CHAPTER 8
Harper
J ust like any other night, after I’d finished brushing my teeth and washing my face, I got into bed. Slipping under the covers, I laid my head down on my pillow, thinking of what I had going on tomorrow—a history test and a paper to hand in for my English Lit class—nothing out of the ordinary; just waking up to another normal day. But I was wrong. I woke up to a day that couldn’t be any further from normal.
As the numbness of sleep started to fade and the sounds of my mother’s cries filled the house, I knew something was terribly wrong. I rushed downstairs and my blood ran cold when I found two Marines standing in my living room. They were explaining the events of my brother’s death. My father was trying to remain calm and listen to what they were saying while my mother was crying hysterically and pleading with them to tell her it was some kind of mistake, that her son wasn’t really dead. I wanted to go to her, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I just stood there fighting back the tears as I tried to convince myself that it was all just a bad dream, that I would wake up and everything would be back to normal. But it was no dream.
My brother was gone.
I started to sob, and I cried until I could no longer breathe. I tried to inhale, tried to suck the air into my lungs, but none came. I was consumed with an overwhelming sense of loss, and I just wanted it to stop. But the pain didn’t stop. It had only just begun.
The days that led up to Brody’s funeral were a blur. For the most part, I stayed locked away in my room, crying and longing for Max. I kept thinking if he would just come home that he’d make things better and he’d give me the strength to get through the pain, but he hadn’t come. He was still so far away. All I could do was wait and try to come to terms with the fact that I would never see my brother alive again. I’d had any one close to me die, I’d never faced any real tragedy, and I felt completely lost. I knew I still had my parents, but it wasn’t the same. Brody was a huge part of my life, more than I ever realized. He was my big brother. He was my protector, and now, I was an only child. Suddenly, I felt totally and completely alone. I’d always thought he’d be there for me, and knowing he wouldn’t, hurt in ways I couldn’t describe. He was gone, and we were left here without him.
On the day of his funeral, I had to force myself out of bed. Just the thought of being around so many people, with pity and sorrow painted on their faces, filled me with dread. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of finally seeing Max. I stood there next to my parents; my eyes were swollen and red, and my entire body ached with exhaustion. I looked at the casket and my heart shattered; I knew a part of me was locked away inside that polished wooden box with him. My aunt leaned towards me and patted me on the arm as she whispered, “Be strong for your parents.”
I was too dazed to respond as people came by to offer their condolences and heartfelt tears. I was barely breathing, barely able to function at all, and the thought of being strong seemed like an impossibility. I felt like I could break at any moment, and then, there he was, walking in our direction. I thought seeing Max might give me strength, that he could calm the storm raging inside me, but he only made it worse. Max looked so handsome in his USMC dress blues, but his face was marked with sheer anguish. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for him to witness Brody’s death, to watch his best friend—my brother—take his final breath. If the look on his face was any indication of how he was feeling, he was completely destroyed.
My mother rushed towards Max as soon as she spotted him and hugged him tightly as she cried. He spoke softly as he tried to comfort her. Once she’d managed to collect herself, they turned and started walking toward my father and me. When Max’s eyes locked on mine, I couldn’t wait any longer. My mother stood aside as he reached for me, and finally, I was in his arms. The dam broke, and all my emotions spilled out from every fiber of my being. For that brief moment, I felt his strength, and I knew that I would be able to make it through the funeral because he was there.
As soon as the service was over, we all proceeded to the cemetery. It was cold, and my coat did little to protect me from the frigid wind that whipped around us. Snow covered the ground, making everything look clean and wistful, letting me forget for a brief moment where I was. They led us over to the tent, and my mother cried into my father’s shoulder as pallbearers brought in the casket. I stood there trembling in a foggy haze as the Marines removed the flag from Brody’s casket and held it suspended in the air as the minister spoke. He used words like faithful, loyal, and courageous to describe my brother, and he tried to assure all of us that he was in a better place. As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd grew silent. One of the officers shouted out several short commands, and after they’d all stepped forward and saluted, the sounds of gunfire rang out. My body flinched with each shot, and the tears started streaming down my face. My brother heard shots like that every day, and ultimately one of them killed him. By the third round, I was bawling, and the sound of a trumpet playing Taps only made it worse. While they folded Brody’s flag, I looked through the crowd of people circling the tent and spotted Max standing off to the side by himself. His eyes were filled with regret as he watched the Marine offer my parents the flag.
When the service was over and people started to disperse, Max eased over to the casket. His head was lowered and his shoulders sagged. There were no tears, and it looked like he was managing to hold it together, until my mother walked over to him. Neither of them spoke as she stood beside him, then she turned and wrapped her arms around him once again. As he hugged her, she rested her head on his chest and started to sob. Giving them their moment, my father and I walked up next to them and stood quietly as they both held on to one another.
As he released her, Max looked down at her and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come sooner. I got here as fast I could.”
“I’m just so glad you’re here. Brody loved you, Max. You meant so much to him.”
“I’m so very sorry.” Max’s voice was strained as he looked down at the casket and replied, “It should’ve been me.”
Mom reached for him, taking his hand in hers as she said, “No, Max. Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. He would still be here if it wasn’t for me. I let you down.” He looked over to us and continued, “I let all of you down, but worst of all, I let him down.”
“Oh, honey. You’re taking on guilt that isn’t yours to take.”
“That’s not true.” He shook his head as he took a step back. “It is mine. All of it.”
“No, dear. No matter what you think, none of this is your fault. You have to know that.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You know, Brody wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”
“I know what he’d want. He’d want me to … It doesn’t matter. I can’t. I just can’t.” He looked over to my father and said, “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”
With that, he turned and started towards his truck. When I realized that he was leaving—really leaving, I rushed after him. “Max!”
Ignoring me, he continued walking. When I finally made it over to him, I reached for him, urging him to stop. He shook his head as he pulled from my grasp. “I can’t do this, Harper.”
“Please don’t go,” I pleaded. “Please .”
Without looking at me, he replied, “I have to get back. I don’t have a choice. But once I’m done with my tour, I won’t be coming back here.”
“But why? Leaving isn’t going to fix anything.”
A spark of anger flashed through his eyes as he looked at me and growled, “You think staying here is going to fix the fact that your brother is dead because of me?”
“Max .”
“You just don’t get it. If I come back here, it’s only going to make all of this worse … for everyone .”
“So, you’re just going to walk away and forget about everything we’ve meant to each other?” I shouted.
“I’ll never forget, Harper, but that doesn’t mean I can stay here and pretend none of this happened.”
His words felt like a punch to the gut, and I was overcome with desperation. “Max, I love you.”
“That doesn’t change anything. I wish it did, but I …”
“What about me? I’ve already lost my brother, and now, you, too,” I demanded. “I know you are hurting. I know for some crazy reason you think you’re responsible for what happened with Brody, but this isn’t just about you . You’re not the only one who lost him! You’re not the only one hurting. I’m hurting too, and now, you’re leaving when I need you the most!”
“You’re stronger than you think, Harper” he told me as he opened the door to his truck and sat inside. Just before he closed the door, he looked at me and said, “Someday, you’ll see that this was the best thing for both of us.”
I stepped forward, blocking the door, and begged, “Please, Max .” He refused to look at me as I added, “You’ve got to hold on to the memories … Remember how it used to be … Hold on to the good and know it can be like that again. It’s just going to take some time.”
“No. Everything has changed, and nothing will ever be the same again. You’ll see that someday.” Then he started the engine. “Goodbye, Harper.”
I took a step back, letting him close the door, but before he drove off, I pleaded one last time. “Please don’t do this, Max.”
I stood frozen in place as he pulled out onto the road. As I watched his tail-lights disappear down the highway, I knew I might never see him again, and I couldn’t fathom my life without him. My chest ached like a thousand daggers had impaled my heart. I struggled with the urge to chase after him once more and plead with him to stay, but I knew it was pointless. I wouldn’t be able to change his mind. He was too far gone, too lost in his own despair, and I would just have to accept the fact that I just wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to ease his pain, to heal his broken heart, and I sure as hell wasn’t enough to make him stay.
Weeks passed, and I watched the flowers from Brody’s funeral wilt and die. They were just another reminder of how short life really was: just like his coat that still hung in the closet, his car which was still parked in the garage, and his room with its door that was never opened. It was just easier for all of us to pretend that he was simply away on a trip, and he would be coming back to us one day. It was the same way with Max. His letters were still hidden away in my bottom drawer, his picture was still taped to my mirror, and his ring was still wrapped around my finger. I continued to send him messages, write him letters, and even after I’d gotten no response, I couldn’t muster the strength to get rid of those little reminders. I couldn’t let him go.
When I’d left for college, I still felt the dull ache in my heart, but over time, I had gotten really good at hiding it. I’d mask my suffering with fake smiles and idle conversation. After a few years of focusing on my writing, the pain grew less and the sun started shining again—dimly, but it was there. I could see hope glimmering on the horizon, and the weight of my sadness was no longer dragging me down. I’d made the decision to accept my scars and learn from them. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. I was determined to find my happiness once more—only this time, I’d hold on to it, protect it, and never let anyone take it from me again.