30
jo
When Beth walked back into the kitchen, the color was drained from her face. On her heels were two men in Army uniform.
Meredith dropped to her knees before they spoke.
Beth rushed toward her.
I felt like my socks were rooted into the ground. I couldn’t move as chaos erupted in the room.
My mom was screaming, but the voices of the men broke through it.
“Meredith, Meredith! It’s just an injury. I only came because Frank is my friend. I’m sorry to have frightened you!” the taller man yelled.
My dad’s supposed friend looked like he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. His cheeks were so red and the newspapers from the counter were all over the floor.
“Where is he? Where’s my husband?” Meredith demanded.
The other man took a step forward, and his boot covered a picture of a homecoming ceremony for the Scout platoon who came home last week.
“Germany. He’s at a hospital there while he gains his strength to come home.”
“Germany?” Beth asked.
I told her that most injured soldiers end up in Germany before coming home to the U.S.
Beth wrapped something around my mom’s shoulders, and I felt like we were on an episode of True Life or something. It all felt like it wasn’t really happening to us. It felt like an article on the internet. I read once that by watching too many documentaries and Facebook videos, you can become desensitized to violence in front of you in real time because your brain and memory are not able to tell the difference from watching it happen virtually.
The room spun a little until my mom calmed down. Beth got my mom to sit in Dad’s recliner with a cup of something that smelled a little stronger than coffee.
Beth called Aunt Hannah and our grandparents.
Twenty minutes beforehand, I was rummaging through old newspapers in my room upstairs. I was listening to music and searching through page after page of homecoming ceremony coverage. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing with them yet, but I knew Laurie had a plan when he gave me a list of names to search for. It suddenly seemed incredibly unimportant as my mom’s shoulders were shaking under the blanket wrapped around her.
Aunt Hannah showed up thirty minutes later, and Amy came home from her friend’s house and wouldn’t stop asking Meredith what was wrong until she got yelled at. Beth stared at the wall, and I stared at my computer. Aunt Hannah was just sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV on the wall. The mess of cords hanging from the wall and wrapped around the extension cord screamed house fire, but there were just so many things to plug in.
“Have you talked to Meg yet?” Meredith asked when Aunt Hannah brought her another drink. I didn’t even have a mental comment on her drinking, I had no right to question her in that moment. I even craved a drink and I hated the taste of alcohol.
The only thing we knew was that my dad’s tank ran over an IED on the side of the road and caught fire. Out of four men, my dad was one of two survivors. One of the men killed had just had a baby halfway through the deployment. It didn’t seem fair, but I couldn’t speak the word fair since my dad was alive. The men who came bearing the news told my mom that she could go to Germany and stay with my dad until he healed, and she said she would have to see if she could.
Beth and I stood in the kitchen with Aunt Hannah and went over our options if Meredith decided to go.
“I can drive Amy to her stuff and myself to work,” I offered. “I just need to go get my license. I can go Monday.”
Aunt Hannah peeked into the living room and came back to stand by the oven, which she turned off. It was on from when Beth and my mom were making breakfast, which seemed like another lifetime.
“I can stay most nights, but I work five days a week,” Aunt Hannah told me. Beth nodded and wiped a chunk of brown hair from her forehead. “I can help out as much as I can.”
“Amy’s the only one who can’t take care of herself,” I said, just as Amy came walking into the kitchen.
“I can take care of myself just fine, Jo.” Her tone was harsh, but I didn’t blame her. We had all had a long day, and no one had heard from Meg yet. I considered calling Shia or emailing John, but I didn’t know how much of a mess that could make.
“Anyway . . .” Beth opened the fridge and poured Amy a glass of milk. Beth grabbed a pack of Oreos and slid them across the table. For once in her life, Amy shook her head at the cookies.
“So, Jo, you’ll need to take that test this week. How many shifts do you work this week?” Beth asked.
I didn’t know off the top of my head, and I told my sisters and my aunt that I would tell them when I knew. I leaned my elbows against the cold counter and felt the room shifting and our lives changing with every passing breath.