Six years later
Brock
My mom’s done it. After all this time, she’s finally leaving my father—well, actually, she already left.
Over the past five and a half years, I’ve been in contact with my mom, though sporadically at best. We’ve had to time our calls around when my dad was either gone or asleep; she and I had better conversations when the threat of my dad wasn’t looming over her.
The first six months I was gone, I never called, but I did write one letter. I told her what happened the night of the party and explained my decision to leave and join the military. Once I was in, they learned very quickly I was good with a rifle, and then it was a natural progression to become a scout sniper. Over the years, I’ve been deployed three times and shot twice.
It’s still weird when people address me as Sergeant James, but it’s a title I’ve worked hard to receive. Tomorrow I begin my thirty-day leave, and when I get back, I’ll decide if I want to sign my EAS, End of Active Service, papers. I’m finally heading home for the first time in almost six years.
My mom’s been living with my grandparents for the past two months to save up for her own place while she went through with the divorce. Apparently there are some duplexes in downtown Aldridge that are cozy, affordable, and close to a lot of businesses, which is good because my mom doesn’t have a car. She sold it to help get a savings account going, and my granddad has of course been slipping money into her account since she finally announced she was leaving my dad.
There’s a chance I could run into her while I’m there. I’ve gone over and over in my head how I’d react if I ever saw Ripley again, and each time I get stuck. I’ve written her several letters since I left, but never sent them. How do you ask for forgiveness when you left the person you loved the most behind? The past few years, I’ve started dating; nothing serious, but it’s better than before when I was just looking for easy fucks all the time.
Tiffany is my current girlfriend. We’ve only been together a few months and she’s sweet, thoughtful, and good in bed, but there’s no deep connection. I know she’s looking for more, I just don’t know if we’ll get to that point. Right now she’s pissed I won’t bring her home with me. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. She’s a sweet girl, and hurting her is the last thing I want.
I stop thinking about going home when I throw the tennis ball and watch my Great Dane, Tiny, chase it. Tiny was abandoned by his previous owner and I immediately snatched him up. He’s a great dog, very loyal, smart and obedient. Tiny’s the color that’s called blue but looks like a sleek grey, and his eyes are such a bright blue that they look fake. He’s making the trek to Illinois with me, and it will be the first time we’ve done a long road trip. It should take us sixteen hours to get there.
After playing catch, we head inside and I get us both some grub. I’m in the middle of packing when my doorbell rings, and I see Tiffany standing on the other side. I open the door, and the thought hits me that she’s the complete opposite of her. Where Ripley was petite and blonde, Tiffany is tall, brunette, and curvy.
“Hey,” she says as she stops in front of me. I kiss her cheek and wrap my arms around her. “I’m going to miss you,” she mutters against my neck. Guilt plagues me. I can’t say I’ll miss her too. Instead, I give her a squeeze.
“Do you want something to drink?”
She shakes her head. “I have plans, and you’ve got a long drive ahead of you tomorrow so you’ll probably want to get a good night’s sleep.” I don’t remind her that I’m a soldier and can do a lot on little sleep. That’s why my plan is to drive straight through, depending on how Tiny does, of course.
“Okay, well I’m glad you came to see me. I’ll call you when I get there.” I tip her head back and kiss her slowly and thoroughly, giving her a smile as I pull away. I brush her hair back and smile at her dazed look.
“Drive safe tomorrow.”
I watch her walk out to her car, and once she’s gone, I turn around. Tiny loves people, especially kids, but he does not like Tiffany. When she’s over, I swear he lays on his dog bed and pouts. I look behind me and he’s sitting in the doorway looking unimpressed.
“Yeah, I know you don’t like her. Well tough shit, boy.” He comes over and licks my hand before bumping it with his nose. I give him a good rub down and a treat then watch him walk over to his dog bed and flop down on it with a satisfied sigh. “You’re high maintenance, you know that right?” He gives me a woof before he finishes his treat and promptly falls asleep.
I actually go to bed early, but I don’t fall right to sleep. My mind whirls with everything that’s ahead, including seeing my mom and my grandparents again. If I see Ripley, I see her. Hell, she’s probably married by now. Oh God, what if she’s married? What if she’s got a family?
Those are my last thoughts as I slip into a fitful sleep.
I walk Tiny around the rest stop, letting him stretch his legs, eat and drink, then go to the bathroom. Because of Tiny, I split the drive into two parts. I did eight hours yesterday, and today we have about two more hours until we’re home. I spoke to my granddad already and they’ve got the spare bedroom ready for us. He tells me Mom’s been a nervous wreck all day. Even when the abuse was bad she tried to shield me from most of it, and she never failed to show me lots of love in her own way.
Back in my truck, Tiny curls up in the back seat and begins to snore. Music fills the cab as I drive down I-74, and I keep it loud to drown out my thoughts.
When I finally arrive at my grandparents’ house I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. That night I showed up six years ago flashes through my mind, but just as quickly as the memories appear, I push them out. I can’t go there, not now. I climb out of the cab and open the back door, lifting Tiny’s ass out of the back seat.
“Oh my God you brought a small horse,” I hear my mom say as she rounds the truck. She gets down on her haunches and Tiny gives her love. As soon as her eyes land on me, they immediately fill with tears. She jumps up and runs to me, wrapping her arms around me tight. “My baby boy is home. I’ve missed you so much, son.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
She pulls back and smiles up at me. “Gosh, you’ve gotten so handsome. You’ve lost that boyish look, and you’re looking more like your granddad.”
One thing I notice immediately is how fantastic my mom looks. She’s got a glow, and her hair is pulled back from her face in a low ponytail. She even looks like she’s put on some weight, which makes me happy. With her arms around my waist, she leads me inside where my grandparents are waiting impatiently.
After hugs and introductions to Tiny, I carry my bags back to my room, set them on the floor, and sit on the end of the bed. My goal is to get my mom all settled and hang for a few weeks before Tiny and I hit the road again.
There’s a knock on the door and my mom pops her head in. “Do you have a second?”
“Yeah Mom, come sit. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know six months ago I read in the paper that Ripley’s dad passed away. I don’t know how or anything, but I know he was there for you a lot and I thought you’d want to know.” She kisses my cheek and leaves me alone. My nose burns, but I push the sensation away.
My hope is that Ripley wasn’t alone when everything happened, that she had someone to lean on and support her. I remember I need to call Tiffany to let her know I’ve arrived, but I’m wiped so I just shoot her a text.
BROCK: Hey I just wanted to let you know we made it. I’m wiped, but will try to call you tomorrow.
She answers almost immediately.
TIFFANY: Okay, well I’m glad you made it and have fun. I’ll be thinking about you. XOXO
I empty my bags and put my clothes away in the dresser. I grab my Dopp kit and take it into the bathroom, setting it on the counter. In the living room I find my mom and grandma knitting, and warmth fills me. I watch them, looking so content as they chat away. Tiny’s in heaven already—he’s curled up at my mom’s feet, and I can see her petting him with her foot.
“Where’s Granddad?”
“He’s doing some woodcarving on the back porch. Go on back.” I move through the condo and out the French doors.
He’s sitting on the top step whistling as he uses his knife on the hunk of wood in his hands. “Hey old man.” I sit down next to him, pick up the other knife and piece of wood, and start working. Before I left for the service, Granddad taught me how to whittle. I can’t actually whittle shit, but I can zone out while I do it. It’s become my anxiety medication. If I’m feeling edgy, I just grab my wood and knife and lose myself to it.
“Getting settled in?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I look behind me to make sure my mom’s not outside before turning back to my granddad. “Mom looks amazing. She seems so happy.”
“She is. She loves her job with the florist, and your dad’s left her alone since she filed for divorce. We have enough evidence that I told him if he doesn’t disappear, he’ll be arrested for domestic abuse. He’s no dummy. He’s stayed away from us, away from her.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “That’s good. She already seems more confident.” We work side by side in silence. I’m not sure how much time passes, but after a while I feel Tiny’s nose butt the back of my head. “Oh excuse me, I didn’t realize I was in your way.” He lets out a little bark-snort noise as he trots between us and out into the yard, lifting his leg all over everything. “I promise he won’t do that forever.”
“I know, I’m not worried about it. He’s a good boy. He’s got to eat a ton, huh?”
A laugh slips past my lips. “He eats about fourteen cups a day, which reminds me, I’ll need to head to the pet store tomorrow to get him some more food.”
My granddad gets up, grabs Tiny’s rope toy, and throws it across the yard. My big dork gallops toward the rope and picks it up, taking it back to my granddad and dropping it at his feet. They repeat that move a couple more times before we head into the house. Mom and Grandma are making dinner, and the scent of Grandma’s homemade chicken fried steak makes my mouth water. I set the table and then sit in the living room while they finish cooking. I tip my head back and feel my eyes get heavy.
I come awake with a start. Sweat dots my brow and my heart races, and I realize my grandma is standing in front of me.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Concern is written all over her face.
“Yeah I’m fine.” I stand up and as the cobwebs clear, I wrap my arm around her slender shoulders and walk with her into the dining room. They all know I was shot, and none of them were happy when I told them not to come, that I was okay. Neither bullet wound was life threatening, with one to the shoulder and one to the leg. I shake off those thoughts because honestly I don’t like thinking or talking about it, though I can’t help dreaming about it sometimes.
I pull out my grandma’s chair and get her settled before heading into the kitchen to help my mom bring out the dishes. I’ve missed her cooking. That was always one great thing about my mom—she is an excellent cook. “This looks great.” I kiss her cheek before carrying a bowl of homemade mashed potatoes and the gravy boat into the dining room.
The old wooden chairs groan as we all sit down to eat. My grandma holds out her hands, “let’s join hands and say grace.” We do as she asks and hold hands and bow our heads. “Lord, thank you for reuniting our family. Thank you for bringing our beautiful daughter home to us and for keeping our grandson safe as well. I pray that our son Jacob is looking down on us, happy that our family is together again. Thank you for this food, may it nourish us and give us strength. In your name I pray, amen.”
My Uncle Jacob was sixteen when he died; he was out riding his bike and someone wasn’t paying attention and hit him. According to my granddad, my mom had a really tough time with it. She was fifteen at the time and worshipped the ground her brother walked on, and she still misses him every day.
I look down at my food and let out a happy sigh. My mom makes the absolute best chicken fried steak—it should be illegal, it’s that good.
“Brock, do you have any plans to meet up with any old friends while you’re in town?” my mom asks with a hopeful smile on her face.
The truth is the way I left I don’t really have any friends left here. I looked Cale up on social media and saw that he’s a counselor at a drug and alcohol treatment facility in Moline. It looked like he was single, which was a bummer—I had been hoping he and Kat had finally hooked up.
I never looked her up because she was Ripley’s best friend. It was cowardly, but I was afraid I’d see pictures or posts from Rip, and I didn’t want to see her. “I’m not sure. Cale works in Moline so I might try to meet up with him.”
“Anyone else?” Urgh! I know what she’s getting at, but we’re not going there. I shake my head while casting a pleading look to drop it. Her face falls. “Oh.” My mom surprises me when she throws down her napkin and gets up from the table. I get up and follow her into her bedroom.
“Mom, what is it?” Her eyes glisten and she looks so freaking sad. “I’m sorry if you don’t like my answer, but you know how hard it was for me to leave her.” The sudden pressure on my chest aches, and I rub it, hoping it’ll go away. “Reopening those wounds, for me or her will only cause more pain.” The ache only increases, but I ignore it, the same way I have all these years. Grabbing her hands in mine, I say. “You understand that right?”
“She came to the house.” My hands spasm around hers. “She was so sad honey. She begged to know if we knew where you were.” Mom takes a deep breath. “When I told her you went into the Marines, she looked shattered. I went back inside, b-but y-your dad went to the door. He told her you left because of her and said he hoped she was happy.” Mom closes her eyes before reopening them. “When I looked out the window she just stood on the sidewalk, staring at nothing. She didn’t budge , but after a few minutes a blond-haired boy helped her to a car and they drove away.”
My pulse races, the pain in my chest threatens to explode. “Why are you telling me this?” I swallow down the lump in my throat.
“I don’t know? I-I guess I-I thought maybe you two could find some closure. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have said anything. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”
I wrap my mom in my arms. “I know you weren’t, I just think too much time has gone by. Maybe it’s better left alone.”
“Whatever you want honey.”
I give my mom a squeeze. “I appreciate you trying, but I’m finally happy and ready to move on.” I’ve apparently become the ultimate liar because my mom smiles and nods her head like she believes me. “I’m going to take Tiny for a walk.” She nods, kisses my cheek, and then tells me she’s going to clean up after dinner.
Whistling for my dog, I wait for him by the front door. He trots up, his tail swishing back and forth when he sees his lead. While we walk, my thoughts are all over the place. I think about Rip, and about her dad and wonder how she and her mom are doing. He was such a good guy, and was so important to me. If not for him, who knows where I would’ve ended up—though in the end, look where I ended up anyway.
I pick up the pace and begin jogging down the road. Tiffany flashes through my mind, and then Carly. Carly was my first “real” girlfriend after Ripley. We only dated about six months. She broke it off because I couldn’t fully commit. Now there’s Tiffany, and she’s starting to get a lot more serious than I’m ready for. Maybe this time away from her will put things in perspective.
On that thought, I head toward home.
Tiny jumps out of the cab of my truck and I lead him into the pet store. We make our way slowly through the store and as always, people approach us, wanting to see him. I don’t mind it, and he thrives under all the attention he gets. We move toward the dog treats and I’m trying to decide what to get when I feel someone watching us. I turn and see a little boy looking at Tiny from the end of the aisle. His cornflower blue eyes remind me of Ripley’s, and his blond hair is on the shaggier side.
Down on my haunches next to Tiny, I say, “His name is Tiny. You can pet him if you want. He’s really nice.” The little boy moves just inside the mouth of the aisle. “I promise he’s super friendly.” The boy inches toward us.
“Why do you hab a horse in here?” His big eyes blink up at me and a pang hits me in my chest. At first I don’t get it, but then I laugh at his question.
“He is as big as a horse, isn’t he?” The boy nods his head. “Tiny’s a Great Dane. He’s just a really big dog. You can pet him.” His little hand reaches up and strokes the top of Tiny’s head, and my attention hog immediately starts licking the side of the little boy’s head. “Tiny, stop.” Thank God my dog actually listens.
“His tongue feels scratchy.” The boy’s giggles make me smile.
I open my mouth to speak but right then, a guy flies around the corner and gets down in front of him. “Bud, you can’t take off on me like that, okay?”
His little face grows serious. “Okay Uncle Jonah, I’m sorry. Did you see the big dog?”
I take a better look at the guy in front of me, and he freezes when he looks up at me. Time seems to stand still, and every bit of torment the guy threw at me comes rushing back. He stands up and picks the boy up in his arms. “Brock? How . . . How are you?”
My gut clenches. “I’m good, just on leave and came to help my mom move into her new place. She left my dad a while ago.” Why the hell am I talking to him? What’s the matter with me? I glance at the boy in his arms and realize it’s because I didn’t want to scare the kid by beating his uncle’s ass. “Uncle? I thought you were an only child.”
His eyes are darting all over the place, they’re avoiding mine, as he laughs nervously, and it’s got me curious. “Alex is the son of a really good friend of mine.” He smiles at the boy. “We need to go bud so we can meet your mom for lunch.” He turns his attention back to me. “It was good seeing you Brock.” In a few steps down the aisle they’re gone.
Talk about a weird encounter. I expected him to treat me like he always had—talking shit, making smartass comments about Rip and whatever else he could think of—but instead, he acted friendly. He was babysitting for fuck’s sake.
We get a couple bags of dog food, and I get the guy who rings us up to help me get them out to the truck. Back at my grandparents’ place, I let the dog into the house then go back out to grab the bags of food, sticking them in the garage. Inside the house, I find a note my mom left. Going to work. Grandma and Grandpa are out running errands. See you later. Love, Mom.
In my room, I decide to lie down and take a nap, and my dreams are filled with images of the past.