As I sit here staring at the box Devon told me to get from the clubhouse, I feel like I'm invading his privacy for some reason. I've held onto this box for the last week, scared to open it, scared to get the answers I'm not sure I want. I know it's to help me understand what happened to him, but I'm terrified. It took me a week to grow enough invisible steel woman balls in order to go and get the damn thing.
He wants me to open it though. I run my sweaty palms along my thighs, take a deep breath, and release it.
I reach out, grabbing the coffee table to pull it closer to me. I remove the lid, and looking inside, my lips lift when I see Grizzly, my bear I’d given him when I was six. He was so sad that day while sitting on the curb, crying because he wanted to go home. I bring Grizzly to my chest and hug him before laying him down next to the box.
The next item is a picture of me and Devon when we were teenagers. I look closer. GAH! We were so young then, so happy, not a care or worry in the world. I remember this picture had been taken not long before he left. We were sitting on the tailgate of his truck, one of his arms around my shoulders, and I was smiling at the camera while Devon was grinning down at me.
The rest of the box is filled with envelopes, hundreds of letters. I sort through each of them, all of them with my name. I open the first one.
Dear Daphne,
I can't disclose my location. It wouldn't matter anyway because I have no intentions of sending this letter to you. I guess this is my way of keeping you close for my own selfish reasons. Me leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'm sorry for leaving in the middle of the night, but I couldn't bear the thought of having to look you in the eyes and say goodbye, only to then, have to walk away from you.
You don't know this, but I came into your bedroom the night I left. After you ran from me, I waited on my front porch, watching your bedroom window until I knew you would be asleep, and then I snuck in through your window. I watched you sleep for the final time. You called out my name and sat up like you could feel me there with you, but you never saw me. We always did have this invisible string holding us together, like our souls were actually connected. My name coming from your lips will always be the sweetest sound, and I'll never forget it.
I have Grizzly here with me, keeping me safe, and it's almost like a part of you is too. I miss you so much Daphne, and I know you probably hate me, but I had my reasons for leaving.
I stop reading, tears blur my vision. I had no idea he came into my room that night. I huff, “Why did he leave?” It doesn't make sense.
I begin reading again.
I imagine if you were to read this, you would be huffing and getting irritated by the unknown. Don't worry, I'm going to tell you why.
He knew me all too well. I laugh to myself.
The night before I enlisted my mom was gone for the evening. I think she was with your mom…maybe. Anyway, my dad had been drinking and he started in on me about college. I told him our plan. You would go to art school and I'd go to the university in New York. It wasn't the first time he called me worthless, as you know, but it was the first time he said I was a leech that was attached to you. He said I was a fucking pussy. That I'd never be a man if I followed my girlfriend like a little pussy. He told me that if I was a real man, I would leave you alone instead of chasing a stupid fairytale dream, and that if you could get away from me long enough, you would realize there's more to life than a worthless maggot like me. He told me that all I do is suck people dry like the fucking leech I am. Then said that when I was finally out of the house, I shouldn’t ever think about coming back.
He got in my head, Daphne, and I thought that maybe he was right. Maybe I was holding you back from something because you are fucking amazing. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and you are destined for something great. I wanted to be a part of that, but because I listened to my father, I gave it all up: our dreams, plans, future. I hope one day you'll move on and find someone you can love again because your love, Daphne, is everything.
I'm sorry. I'll love you forever, Daph.
Devon
Oh, my God! Anger boils inside my veins as I set the letter down. I plant my elbows on my knees and cover my face with my hands. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This must be why Devon's dad wouldn't go to see him at the center, why Devon feels like his parents’ house isn't his home, and why he couldn’t go home. Maybe this is the reason his dad quit drinking so much after I found out I was pregnant. Maybe he felt guilty for running his son off and realizing he was going to have a grandbaby. Maybe this is why he treats Zane better than he did Devon…spoiling Zane.
I always knew Devon's dad had a drinking problem, and I knew sometimes he and Devon would fight, but I never knew his dad called him such horrible names. Devon would sneak into my bedroom window some nights and sleep in my bed when they would fight, but Devon never wanted to talk about the fights with me. He would always tell me to just let it be.
How could his mom not know what was happening though? Obviously, she doesn't know why Devon left, but did she know how he was treated? My parents never mentioned anything. There were never any issues at our family dinners on Friday nights, and Devon obviously downplayed how bad it really was. He made it seem like it was just the normal parent/teenage rebellious arguments. And it wasn’t like he was sneaking over every night, but maybe I should have pushed more or insisted he tell me?
I fought with my parents too when I stayed out late or defied them. Who didn’t fight with their parents? But mine would never have treated me like this. Was I just clueless and naïve, too caught up in myself to realize what was happening to the boy I loved?
I grab the next envelope and begin reading. Over the next couple of hours, I don't know how many letters I have read, but Devon wrote to me every single day. He never tells me the location, but he describes the weather as the hottest he’s ever felt, shares what he does from day to day, and he always tells me he'll love me forever. My heart hurts reading those words after what happened in his room at the clubhouse.
I reach for the next letter.
Dear Daphne,
I've been here for about a year now and it's rough. Today especially, and I don't know how I'm going to make it another three years in the Army. I miss you so fucking much. I miss a lot of shit, but I try to keep reminding myself that I'm here for the greater good. Mullins, he's my gunner on patrol in the truck, tries to keep me laughing. He's a shithead most of the time, pulling pranks on people and always joking around, but I guess it's his way of dealing with the shit we go through here.
Today was especially hard because we were out on patrol and came up on a little girl. She was adorable with long black hair, big brown doe eyes, and no older than eight. I had a thought, maybe that’s what our daughter would have looked like except with your gray eyes and creamy skin.
She was standing in the middle of the dirt road, just standing there. We tried to get her to move, but she wouldn't budge. We smiled at her and tried to talk to her, and after a while, one of the privates stepped out of the Humvee and walked over to her. When he grabbed her arm, she lifted her shirt with the other and there was a fucking bomb attached to her. He couldn't get away fast enough. She pushed the trigger blowing them both away. It was a fucking bloodbath, Daph. Blood, guts, brains, and body parts, scattered all across the roadway and on our truck.
Fuck, Daphne. This shit is fucking with my head. Watching people die. Killing people every day. Innocent people losing their lives, and some of our men will never return home to their families. This shit is so hard, and I don't know how to deal with it. This place has made me a killer, a murderer. I’ve lost myself in this darkness that is starting to consume me. The higher-ups say this shit gets easier, but I can’t see that happening.
I'm sorry I had to get that off my chest. Hopefully, tomorrow's letter will be better.
I'll love you forever, Daph.
Devon
Jesus, I can't even imagine. My stomach turns at the words written on this piece of paper. How would anyone be okay after witnessing something so horrific? I’m glad he had Mullins trying to keep his spirits high, and just from the time I spent with Mullins, he was a good guy, joked around, and he will be severely missed.
I begin reading more letters. A couple more hours go by, and I open the last one.
Dear Daphne,
It's been a few months since I wrote to you and I'm sorry about that, but I was in an accident.
We were on patrol, like any normal day, like we have been for the last three years. I don't remember every detail, but I do remember the sound of gunfire that surrounded us and the loud boom when I ran over the IED. The IED exploded and my Humvee was on fire. I was trying to get out, but I couldn't get my door open. The truck was filled with smoke. I was panicking and my back was starting to get really hot. Suddenly, my door did open. I fell out, and everything went black. I've been at the military base hospital for the last few months for my burns.
I found out later that Mullins, my gunner, was the one who opened my door. He stopped the fire that was burning through my clothes and burning my flesh. He also ended up taking two bullets while trying to get me to safety. I owe him my life, Daphne. He's come to see me since he's in the same hospital, and he tells me he's fine, but I'm not fine, Daph. I'm far from fine. I failed at keeping my men safe. They died because of me, and one of them was just eighteen. Jesus, how do I deal with that guilt? I'm filled with it. Filled with darkness and filled with regret. I wish I could go back to easier times, times with you, but that's not my reality anymore. My reality is filled with death, killing, and scars that have disfigured me. I haven’t seen my back yet because it’s still bandaged, but I can imagine how repulsive I will be.
I won't be writing to you anymore, I hope you're happy, and I'll love you forever, Daph.
Devon
My God, how much is one person supposed to deal with? Everything makes sense now, but Devon needs to deal with his demons. He needs to realize this shit wasn't his fault, and there was no way he could have prevented it from happening. I know that just by reading what he wrote, but I guess living it could make you feel otherwise. I’m thankful he’s getting the help he needs.
I grab the letter about his father, get my keys from the kitchen counter, and I lock up my apartment. When I turn to start walking, I bump into someone. When I look up, an instant feeling of irritation takes hold. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Hey, come on, babe. I just wanna talk. I thought we could hang out." Brad tries giving me a sexy smile, but fails miserably. It looks more like he's got an Elvis lip going on. What the hell did I ever see in this jackass?
"Not now, Brad!" I push by him racing to my car. I don't even bother explaining that he wasn't welcome at my apartment when we were dating, why would he be now?
When I reached my destination, I slam my car door and storm up to Devon's parent's front door, pounding my fist on the wood. Connie answers. "Hi, Daphne." She smiles, but I'm not.
"Where's your husband, Connie?" I ask harshly.
Her brows knit and lips purse. "He's sitting at the dining table. Why? What's going on?"
I push my way past her, taking quick steps to their dining room, slamming the letter down on the table. He looks up at me with a raised brow. My eyes bore into his. "Did you say this shit to him? Did you say these horrible things to Devon? Are you the reason he left?"
Devon’s dad stands to his full height, the top of my head coming to his chin, but this intimidation tactic isn't going to scare me. We stand toe-to-toe, he stares down at me while I stare up at him.
"Daphne, what are you talking about?" Connie asks again, but I ignore her.
I continue staring at the man who fucked up his son's life. "Did you do it?" I ask more sternly.
He shrugs his shoulder. "Doesn't matter if I did or not, he's just as weak now as he was then. The Army couldn’t even make that boy a man. He’ll always be a scared little mama’s bitch boy." I guess I was wrong. He doesn’t feel guilty or sorry for the way he treated Devon. “He was a failure from the start. He should have pulled that trigger a long time ago, but he couldn’t even succeed at that.”
My eyes narrow as my hands form into fists at my sides. I grit through my teeth, "You have no idea what he's been through." It’s taking all of my strength not to throat punch him.
He spits, “He’s back and you become that stupid girl once again.” He shakes his head. “All this time I’ve tried to make Zane better and you just go a destroy it by letting that no-good son of a bitch in his life.”
Stepping closer, I lift my hand and slap him across his smug face. “Don’t you dare bring my son into this! The worst fucking thing I ever did was let you be in his life.” I hiss, “You are a disgusting human being.”
"Someone tell me what is going on right now!" Connie demands.
I hold the letter out for her to take. "Read what your husband did." I keep my eyes glued to his.
It only takes a minute until the gasp can be heard. "John, tell me this isn't true." Her voice is unsteady. He doesn't acknowledge her, he doesn't deny or admit, he continues staring daggers at me.
"Get out!" Connie punches him in the arm, jostling his stance. "How could you? He is our son! How could you say such things? Get out now!" She screams while continuing to slap and hit him. He doesn't say a word as she follows him to the front door, opens it for him, and when he walks out, she slams the door shut and locks it.
Her tear-filled eyes find mine. "He's the reason Devon never came home." She doesn't say it as a question but more of realization. She walks over to their couch and plops down. I sit next to her. "John wasn't always the nicest man, especially when he was drinking. He would say things to Devon, but never anything like that. I would yell at him and tell him not to say stuff like that, but he would tell me not to interfere with how he raised our son. He said he was teaching him to be a man." She huffs out a breath.
My eyes shift in her direction. “Why does he hate his son so much?”
Her head shakes back and forth. “I don’t know. It wasn’t always like that, but Devon was always closer to me and they never really had that father-son bond.”
I look down, fidgeting with my fingers. "I'm sorry."
"No." She pats my thigh. "I'm the one that's sorry. I should have opened my eyes and stood up for my son.” She repeats more to herself that to me, “I'm the one that's sorry."
My eyes drift to hers. "None of us knew how bad it was."
She nods. "John was a different person outside of this house, but behind closed doors..." She trails off.
We sit quietly for a while longer until it's time for me to pick up Zane from my parents’ house next door.