“Wake Me up when September Ends”
Nathan
About Three Years Earlier
There was no way to see the path it would take, the way my life would change over the course of these short three months in Tucson. I had happily anticipated a return to the cockpit, again enjoying the passion I felt for flying. Even more, I looked forward to permanently closing the door of my Pentagon office. Plenty of people loved their work there and found it fulfilling, but, for me, it was a frustration that stood between me and the unfettered freedom of flight. But Eliott was a curveball. In the well-orchestrated life I’d carefully created, she was completely unanticipated.
She was every free-spirited, easygoing thing I wasn’t. She had fallen, unceremoniously, into my regimented life when I least expected it, coloring my existence with her spontaneity. She challenged everything I thought about myself while loving all of me at the same time. She was something I had never dreamed existed.
And I loved everything about her.
She turned my life on its ear. And now I was furiously negotiating with myself about how to proceed. I always had a plan—until Eliott. But at least I’d handled one big decision. I had The Ring.
That alone should have signaled the game had changed. The old Nathan would have never wandered into that jewelry store, smiling all the while, and emerged an hour later with an antique diamond and ruby engagement ring that cost more than the GTO’s expertly applied custom paint job. The ring had been with me at all times for the past two weeks as my time in Tucson drew rapidly to a close. I was undecided about the timing and method, but there were no doubts about the girl.
The moment came when I least expected.
I unlocked the door to my room in the temporary quarters that housed officers, not much more than a hotel suite in truth, and the smell of heaven wrapped around me. Eliott’s cheeks were pink, and the little kitchenette was suffused with the enticing smell of garlic. Her eyes danced as she reached into the oven, retrieving a small pan of bubbling lasagna. She cocked her head and smiled. “I knew you’d be so hungry; it was a long day. So I thought I’d try my hand at cooking in your micro-kitchen.” She placed the pan on the stovetop and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around my neck.
My throat was suddenly tight and my heart full. I couldn’t live another moment without knowing that she would be mine. I reached up and unwrapped her hands from my neck while taking time to kiss the knuckles of each. Her bright smile faded somewhat as she saw the seriousness on my face.
With no real forethought, I sank to one knee, still holding both of her hands, and swallowed hard. “Eliott. I know it hasn’t been very long. But it’s a lifetime already, and I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” I dropped one of her hands, unzipped a pocket on my flight suit, and drew out the sparkling ring. “Wear this, Eliott. Be my wife. Please say yes.”
Any other woman, faced with this surprising development, would’ve cried, laughed, panicked, but not Eliott. She never failed to be herself. She sank to both knees, and her soft eyes held mine. “Of course I’ll be yours.” Her forehead fell forward until it met mine, our eyes still locked together. “I already am, and I agree. It’s time we told everyone else.” She took the ring from my hand, kissed it and slid it onto her hand. “My mama’s gonna love you, Nathan.”
Lasagna forgotten, for now, Eliott wrapped herself in me, and the world shrank until it encompassed only the drab suite, now warmed with a love that seemed to make anything possible. I loved her every way I could conjure until hunger and exhaustion overtook us. At half past two a.m., we sat on the countertop, eating now-lukewarm pasta directly from the pan and whispering plans to each other.
“Let’s marry in Taos,” she suggested, eyes dancing. “We could do it this winter, on the mountain. My art teacher from high school is a minister. And a ski bum…and several other things, actually.”
I smiled, mouth full of delicious veggie lasagna. “Sounds perfect to me, babe. I don’t care where; it just has to be you. Can I swing back through after leave and take you to San Diego to meet my mom and dad?” I had a wedding to attend in Maine immediately after finishing my short course in Tucson. I’d hoped Eliott could accompany me, but she had a senior seminar to complete. Graduation would follow, and I hoped to see her walking down an aisle toward me soon after that.
She turned to face me in the darkened kitchen. Only a short few months ago, in another dark kitchen across town, she’d changed my life all at once, permanently and for the better. “I can’t wait to meet your family. I want to know everything about you, and where you come from is a big part of that.”
I hated to leave Tucson without each detail attended. In her inimitable way, though, Eliott reminded me it was my nature to micromanage; our love didn’t require that. She helped me pack my meager belongings, storing some in her studio near the university, and saw me off to Maine with love and promises to be constantly in touch. Her mother was driving to Tucson to help her begin shopping for a wedding dress. We didn’t want to delay our marriage and planned for a small family wedding to follow her graduation in early December. There was much to do; neither of us had met the other’s family, but it was all inconsequential. We were already part of each other. The wedding, the marriage, and a long life together were a foregone conclusion.
I was more than glad to stand at Nick Bamford’s side while he married his girl, Candace. BamBam and I were roommates in pilot training and became fast friends. They were childhood sweethearts who stood the test of time and made their promises to each other under the oak tree in the front yard of her family’s camp in Maine. Her family’s rabbi officiated their vows, and Bam smashed the goblet under his heel with genuine glee to the chorus of “mazel tov” under a rustic chuppah. Candace and her sisters had woven the arch from vines found on their family property. I offered a heartfelt toast to the newlyweds, unable to separate their joy from my own, and wished Eliott could have been with me. She’d love Maine. Our life stretched out ahead of us; I wondered how many places we would discover together. Stateside? Maybe Alaska and the Pacific Northwest, New England. And overseas…Asia? Definitely Italy, Spain…the Greek Isles. Wales and Scotland. I couldn’t wait for a life of making her happy.
I danced with Candace’s baby sister, the maid of honor, her mom, and Bam’s mother. We’d met years ago at pilot training graduation, and the years had been kind to her.
“Hey there, flyboy.” Bam’s dad’s voice boomed across the dance floor in my direction. He was a retired Navy pilot, and we’d exchanged good-natured insults at the rehearsal dinner. “You trying to move in on my girl, there, son?” His face was awash with happiness as he feigned stealing my dance partner.
“No, sir, Commander.” I mock saluted with a laugh and spun his wife into his arms. “I know when I’m out of my league.” The reception tent was permeated with warm light in these hours after dark. The music and sense of celebration were contagious. I wished Eliott were in my arms. We could immerse ourselves in these moments and look forward to many of our own.
Bam and Candace were in a world of their own as the celebration raged around them like a storm, the crowd dancing and enjoying good food and wine. I wandered, catching up with a few friends I hadn’t seen over the past several years. The night was still young, but my mind already turned toward getting back to the hotel. I had an early flight out of Boston, back to Tucson and Eliott’s arms.
My reverie was shattered by the crude ringing of a cell phone. Who on earth? I was disconcerted to see that I’d neglected to silence my phone, but the screen read “Mom.” A pleasant surprise.
“Hi, Mom. How are ya?” I was glad to hear from her; she’d been excited to hear the latest details, however scant, about my plans with Eliott. She was nearly over the moon to meet her next week.
There was only silence for a moment, followed by what sounded like a sob. Then my father’s voice. “Son?”
“Dad?” I was confused; the caller ID said it was Mom’s phone. I jogged quickly away from the reception and the sounds of the wedding band belting out the words to “Louie Louie.” “Is it you? I thought I heard Mom.”
My dad’s voice sounded strained. “Where are you, Nathan? Still at the wedding? Who’s there with you?”
I didn’t understand. Something was wrong. Why did Dad call me on Mom’s phone? “It’s just me here; I stood up for Bam. His wedding…I’m the best man. Is Mom okay? Who’s not…what happened, Dad?”
There was a long pause, then Dad’s long exhale. “Son, it’s Eliott.” I could hear Mom sobbing in the background now. Oh, God. “She’s…Nathan, her mother just called me. She’s…Eliott, she’s gone.”
Gone?
That didn’t mean anything. Didn’t make any sense. “Dad. What do you mean…gone?”
“Son.” Dad’s voice was broken, reaching through the phone line, across the miles. “Eliott passed away about an hour ago. It was…unexpected. There was an accident. No one knew…no one thought…”
My eyes couldn’t see; my mind couldn’t think. No. She couldn’t be gone, just like that. Could she? We had plans. We had a life together ahead of us. This wasn’t real; it had to be a terrible dream.
My dad’s voice steadied. “I need you to go to your hotel room, Nathan. Your mom and I are coming to get you. Can you do that for me? I’ve spoken to Bam’s dad, and he’s going to grease the skids to get you out of the party right now. You need to wait for us. We’ll come for you. Do you understand, son? Then we’ll go to Eliott and her family in Tucson.”
I don’t remember hanging up the phone, but I must have. A deafening noise swirled loudly in my ears, and the ground seemed to fall away. Vaguely, I saw Commander Bamford and his wife rushing toward where I stood rooted. They must have helped me to my room because that’s where I was when my parents arrived late the next morning. One of my old pilot training buddies changed his return ticket to remain with me until their arrival, but I hadn’t spoken over the hours that passed. He dozed in a chair, and I lay on the bed—staring at the ceiling until morning light washed over the hotel room. My mother wrapped me in her arms, silently weeping, and rocked me while my father wordlessly packed my clothing.
I have virtually no memory of the hours following, but we boarded a plane and flew west, touching down in Tucson just at sunset. Eliott had been involved in a major car accident, one that involved several cars and a large tour bus. Three people were killed, but Eliott’s injuries were minor, I was told. She was in the Emergency Department, awaiting treatment behind those who were more severely injured when she suddenly experienced cardiac arrest. Despite immediate medical attention and treatment, she never regained consciousness and died soon thereafter. The doctors were unable to explain what had happened, and an autopsy was planned in an effort to explain the unexplainable.
The ensuing days passed as if I was walking in a dream. Looking back now, I have only occasional flashes of remembrance—snapshots. Meeting Eliott’s parents for the first time and accompanying them to finalize funeral details. Picking a favorite pale lilac dress of hers to hold her soft body in its satin-lined casket. My father retying my tie before he and my mother walked by my side into the church. Trying to thank friends and family who hugged me at the reception afterward only to have my voice fail me.
When the week finally passed, I lingered in a fog, numb and unable to eat or feel anything but unfathomable, searing pain. The earth still rotated and life seemed to move on while my Eliott lay dead and still in the cold ground.
But I was utterly lost. I had no idea how to rejoin the living.