Not the Time, Not the Place
Tiffany
If Harrison didn’t have such a grip on my waist, I would have fallen by now. My legs are shaking, knees weak as we watch the military pallbearers remove the flag-covered casket.
Following our deep-rooted, small, southern town tradition, Matt is being buried in his family cemetery. I was astonished when his mom requested this, but I couldn’t deny her.
Settling into the rows of chairs for family under the tent, I stop myself multiple times from reaching out to the coffin, reaching out to feel connected to him somehow, just one more time. My brain registers that I can’t, but my heart won’t let go.
When the chaplain begins the service, reality slowly washes over me. He’s gone.
The words of the service don’t register as the emptiness consumes me. I hadn’t noticed the lineup for the twenty-one-gun salute previously, but as the cadence is called for seven Marines to begin the routine of the three volley shots, I feel a prickle run through my body. As the shots ring out, my loss fills me. Hollowness further engulfs me as the first sound of the bugle overtakes me.
My entire body now trembling, I can no longer contain my sobs through the sounds of “Taps” playing by the solitary Marine.
The movement in front of me doesn’t register immediately.
Matt’s flag is being folded.
I lean into Harrison, unable to accept this. Yes, I lost my friend, practically my brother, but his mom lost her son.
The only moment of composure I manage is to nod to the chaplain, giving him the sign with my hand to present the flag to her. Lost in my own grief, I can hear the sobs beside me as she engulfs the flag within her arms. She holds it tight as her body shakes and she can’t contain the sadness pouring from her. This is a side of Tiffany I’ve never seen.
Matt knew, though. He knew her, all sides of her. Everything behind the walls she built to protect herself, he understood. He knew me, too. Things I didn’t dare tell anyone else, I shared with him. He was closer than my own biological brother.
It’s time now. Time to move on and find out who Tiffany Richelle King really is. Matt was right; I will never be happy here. His time may have been cut short by numerical standards, but he was full of life—always taking chances, up for a new adventure, and not one to be held back. Loyal to those closest to him and always kind to everyone, he was brave, full of honor, a true friend, a kind soul, and a great man.
Who am I? A cold, snobby, and insecure bitch.
That’s not who I really am, though. That’s what I let everyone see.
I’m really loving, loyal, and sensitive. I’m also weak, very weak.
It’s time to be brave, time to broaden my horizons and step out of what’s expected of me. It’s time to claim my life.
While we are escorted back to the waiting limo for our return to the funeral home, things are still happening around me like an out of body experience. Then I feel a hard tug on my arm, one that pulls me away from Harrison.
“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” My father’s voice is sharp in anger.
“Ummm … I’m not sure what you’re referring to, sir,” I stammer out.
“Who is this? Why would you come with some stranger to this event? Have you no pride?”
I can’t contain my anger.
“The man is Harrison. He’s no stranger to me or to Matt. And this is not an event; it’s a funeral,” I snap.
Before I manage to say anything more, Harrison steps between my father and me.
“Sir, this is neither the time nor the place.”
“Who are you to tell me when the time or place is to speak to my daughter? You’re a jarhead, nothing more. People who can do no better join the Marines.”
Without warning, Harrison swings, punching my dad.
This is going downhill fast.
My dad recovers, looking at me as he wipes the blood from his nose.
“Who are you to disrespect the sacrifice a Marine makes?” Harrison sneers. “Who are you to disrespect every single man and woman who give up their lives to be committed to the Corps? We go where we are needed, when we are needed, to protect your freedoms. Having zero say in where we live, being deployed for months, sometimes over a year. Going on floats that are six to nine months out at sea, being away from our families with zero communication at times. We do all of that so the jackasses like you can stand here in your stuffy suit and tell me I’m a fucking jarhead.
“Well, yes, fucking sir, I’m proud to be a Marine. I’m proud to have served side by side with men of honor, courage, and commitment, such as Matt. I’m proud to be the son of a Marine who served his country for twenty years. I’m proud of the man I’ve become because of the Marines. You can think less of me and my fellow service members all you want because, in the end, you look like the jackass you really are.”
My dad, now stunned to silence, glares at me.
“Are you ready to go, Tiffany? The limo is waiting,” Harrison says, interlacing our fingers.
“Yes, I am. I have nothing left here,” I manage, barely above a whisper.
I’m not sure either male caught the double meaning in my statement. I mean it, though, every last word. I’m ready to leave. There is nothing left in South Carolina for me.
***
Harrison
The ride to the funeral home is one in silence. I need to get myself under control. Pride overtook my self-control back there. I never should have let Tiffany’s dad rile me up like that. That was not the time, not the place, and certainly not the way I needed to react to his goading.
After arriving at the funeral home, Tiffany is handed an envelope containing the cards of condolences. We silently finish up and leave in her car to head back home.
At Tiffany’s condo, both of us are exhausted with the emotions of the day, and the evidence is easily found in our somber expressions.
I need to figure out when I’m returning to Charlotte. With Brayden and Maggie away on their honeymoon, I’m sure Ryder and Jake are drowning in work. I don’t want to leave Tiffany feeling alone, but my life is in Charlotte now.
“Do you need anything tonight?” I ask, looking for a general conversation with her.
“No, I don’t need anything,” she whispers.
She’s so broken now, almost lost. Can she handle this? Matt always told me she wasn’t as strong as she seemed. He always said she was fragile, like glass, and needed to be handled with care. He was always worried that one day she would be too lost, gone, beyond repair.
As much as I need to return to Charlotte, I realize now is not the time.
We both escape the silence to change into more comfortable clothes. In her guest room, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. Once I’m dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, I go in search of her.
As I approach her bedroom door, I hear the sounds of her crying, so instead of knocking, I enter, finding her sitting on her bed. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top, clutching a stuffed tiger to her chest and sobbing into it.
Without a word, I sit on her bed and pull her close. We sit there for a while; her crying, me gently rocking her.
Exhaustion overtaking, I pull us both back onto the bed. It’s not long before we are both soundly sleeping; me on my back, Tiffany in my arms, draped across my chest, clutching her tiger.