33
BRYN
Erect, handsome, and with a smooth confidence, Mitchell walks toward the group of similarly uniformed soldiers. Though empty-handed, he takes with him my pride, my support, my awe.
I didn’t realize. I didn’t understand how steeped he was in this world until he put his uniform on. Sure, my cousin Drew is in the Army, but it didn’t sink in, not until now, what this brotherhood and sisterhood is like. Not until I saw Mitchell wearing his uniform and ribbons that transformed him, being embraced by those soldiers with obvious respect and affection.
I’ve only scratched the surface of this man, and I want to know more.
I touch my fingers to my lips, shut my eyes to the memory of us earlier today.
That kiss. It felt different. Hot, tender, sweet. It felt like the sum of our previous kisses hopped up on four cups of coffee and an extra boost of . . . I don’t know what. Lust?
No, it wasn’t lust. It was the feeling of falling away, of peeling back, of giving in.
I put the car in park. Pull my foot off the brake. Turn off the engine.
Mitchell expects me to leave. I’ve already done him a huge favor by bringing him here, and I apologized for my terse words last night. I’ve repaired our relationship so when we see each other next week we can be civil. Besides, my dad’s waiting for me, a short half-hour jaunt across the city.
But my body is rebelling. It pulls out my phone, heads to my last text with my dad: Running super late today, Dad.
As usual, my father is the fastest texter in the city: Okay, iha. Everything all right?
I hesitate telling him, knowing we’ll be exposing our fake breakup in a couple of weeks, but I relent: I’m with Mitchell at the Presidio. He’s speaking at a ceremony.
He writes back: Ah. And you are there because . . . ?
I want to support him. Like he’s been there for me.
Seconds pass where there’s no response. Dad?
You really like this guy.
My fingers still. I shut my eyes and let my fingers tell the truth. I think so.
He’s a diamond in the rough, iha.
I stare at the words, not sure how to answer.
But a diamond’s a diamond. And you’re one of the strongest people I know.
I choke back a grateful laugh. It’s exactly the encouragement I needed from the man who always supported me despite his own reservations.
The squeal of the microphone takes my attention and I climb out of the car. I open the hatchback and tunnel into my suitcase. I laugh, thanking God for my penchant to overpack. I find and slip on sling-back heels and a lace cardigan just as “The Star-Spangled Banner” sounds through the speakers. My right hand finds its way to my heart, and it’s as if I’m hearing the anthem for the first time, knowing now two people connected to the protection of this country. I burst with pride.
Only three rows of white chairs are set up under the tent, and the rest is standing area only, so I take my place behind a group of uniformed soldiers. From where I stand, I catch the outline of Mitchell’s face and his worried expression clutches my heart.
The crowd seems to be aware of the sequence of events, from the chaplain’s prayer, to the couple of times soldiers call out what I think is their motto. Different speakers take their turns, praising Sergeant Murray. We’re given her history, all the awards she’s won, how many times she’s moved. They talk about her devoted husband, her supportive son, the sacrifices this woman has made over twenty-two years.
Finally, Mitchell’s called up to speak. My heart is beating wildly as I squeeze my way through bodies to get a better look.
Mitchell is breathtaking. Seemingly a giant, a real-life superhero in blue, his eyes shine clear. As if he knows exactly what he’s going to say, when just minutes before he was unsure about getting out of the car.
This alone is bravery. It’s acting under pressure even if it scares the living shit out of him.
He clears his throat, and his voice rumbles through the microphone. “Good afternoon, esteemed guests. My name is Captain Mitchell Dunford, and I’ve had the extreme honor of serving with First Sergeant Mercedes Murray as her company commander. First Sergeant Murray is a leader, in and out of uniform, and by example. Soldiers never hesitated under her direction. It’s because she led from the front, taking the helm with her own deeds and words. On many occasions, it wouldn’t be a young soldier who needed sage advice—it would be me. Without her, we could never have completed our missions and kept our soldiers safe.” He clears his throat, and in the pause, I hear sniffling in the crowd. Tears gather on my lower lids, not out of sadness, but for this enormous affection I can’t place. All this time, I faulted Mitchell for using humor as a cover, and now I know it’s out of humility.
“She is a credit to us and to the nation, for serving twenty-two years, being deployed countless months overseas. Sergeant Murray, I hope you can look behind and see your legacy: the friendships, the difference you’ve made. One thing I guarantee: I will be here if you need me. Retiring doesn’t mean this life stops, it means your family gets a little bigger. Now let’s get this awards ceremony moving.”
A soldier on the right snaps to attention. “Attention to orders!”
Every soldier in the room stands bone straight, and I follow suit, puffing out my chest to match the others around me, and absorb the words being read by the announcer. Mitchell hands Sergeant Murray a folded American flag and pins the Meritorious Service Medal on her jacket. They speak to one another, faces close, and they shake hands, pumping their fists as if they don’t want to let go.
Their friendship is a camaraderie I can only liken to family, and in many ways I understand it. My parents, away from the Philippines, have made friends their family, and their friends’ children are like my brothers and sisters. But this is different. Mitchell and Mercedes might have only known each other a couple of years, but it’s enough to forge a bond that will last a lifetime.
After the ceremony, everyone stands. A line forms to the right of Sergeant Murray, and the buzz of noise increases. Laughter filters through the tent. I shuffle around people, frantic to find Mitchell.
Everyone at this ceremony has come with someone, can rely on a buddy, while Mitchell’s alone. He wrings his hands between handshakes, shoulders back and stiff. He shifts his feet awkwardly one too many times, and it’s too much. I hear his thoughts in my head, how he’s thinking about the past, the what-ifs. That even if he’s grateful to have come, his anxiety is getting the best of him.
I can no longer stand it.
I excuse myself through bodies and weave around chairs. Thank goodness I showered last night, threw on a dress this morning. I’m adequately presentable for this important ceremony I had no plans to attend, but have crashed.
Mitchell sees me as soon as I step out of the crowd, though at first he doesn’t recognize me. A beat later, there it is—recognition. He stands taller, eyes flashing. Then he smiles. A full-mouthed, lovely smile that tells me I am exactly who he wants to see.
And by God, I rush to him. I think I push ten people out of the way. When I get to Mitchell, he’s looking at me like I’m the tooth fairy, incredulous and with a slightly goofy grin. “You stayed,” he says.
“You think I’d leave you? You’re my boyfriend for another week. You can’t get rid of me yet.” I take both his hands in mine, and we stand there for a second as I stare at our interlocked fingers, different shades of the same kind of person. His loyalty is like my own, his independence, his affection, his smart mouth . . . the things I value in myself, the resilience and the vulnerabilities, are the same I love in him.
Love?
No. What the hell? No. I’m caught up in the moment, looking into this man’s eyes, remembering the speech he gave, him in his uniform, which looks so damn good on him.
No—Mitchell is a good man. A great man, but that’s all.
I swear.
“Captain Dunford?” A voice on my right takes Mitchell’s attention away. We turn to Sergeant Murray, with a man next to her—her husband. “I don’t think we’ve met, ma’am. I’m Mercedes Murray, and this is my husband, Alex.” She looks at me expectantly and at our joined hands.
Mitchell answers smoothly. “This is Bryn Aquino, my girlfriend.”
I jump in. “Congratulations on your retirement. Thank you so much for your service. I’m so honored to have come.”
A gracious smile spreads across her face. “I have to admit, we’ve been watching you guys through the live stream for a while. We were hoping you’d be here. Could we take a selfie?”
Stunned, I answer, “Oh . . . okay.”
She slings her arm around her husband and me, and with her phone directed at us, barks, “Captain Dunford! Closer.”
Fingers curl around my waist, sending my heart to warp speed as Mitchell inches to my side, leaning his cheek down so half his face is in the image. A click later, Sergeant Murray and her husband are swept away to another set of visitors. And though we are surrounded by revelry, Mitchell and I continue to hold each other as if no one else is around us, his hands on my hips, mine on the lapel of his coat.
“That was a beautiful speech you gave, Captain Dunford.”
“Thanks. I was nervous.”
“The only thing that showed was your heart.”
He lifts my chin up. “Then why do you look so sad?”
“Not sad. Contemplative. There’s so much I don’t know about you.”
His eyes linger on my face, and his fingers leave my chin and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know everything that’s most important.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Bryn. You know me best.”