REALISTICALLY, I KNEWhe was gone. I sat beside my granddad’s hospital bed ten hours before, holding his hand as he took his final breath. His death was peaceful and he was surrounded by the people who loved him, but it fucking sucked. My heart just refused to rectify what my brain already knew – that I’d never hear his hearty laugh again or feel the firm slap on my shoulder that I’d received from him my entire life. Of all the blows I’d been dealt in my life, this one hurt the most. I was his namesake and his little buddy; he was the man I admired more than any man in my life – including my father, whom I dearly loved.
He was gone and the anguish I felt had sent me reeling, so the last place I wanted to be right then was sitting in his solicitor’s office, but Terry Perkins was granddad’s good friend and he said it was extremely important – granddad’s final wish, if you will. My German shepherd, Charlie, nudged my leg with his nose where he laid by my feet and let out a soft whimper. I reached down and ran my hand across the top of his head to let him know I was okay and to also seek the comfort the simple act always brought me.
Charlie was a gift from Big Jack after I retired from the Army and found myself unable to handle civilian life. My every single minute was filled with the mental anguish of trying to transition back to a world where I wasn’t in constant danger. I had to live with the losses of my fallen brothers-in-arms and sometimes the pain was more than I could take. It was something a person couldn’t understand until they were faced with the ugliness and the losses from fighting in a war. I couldn’t even find refuge in my sleep, in fact, I had dreaded sleep the most, because I knew the terrors that awaited me every night.
My amazing family was with me every step of the way, but even then it was harder to find the will to live and recover than it would have been to just end it all. No more pain. No more nightmares. No more regrets and sadness over the loss of my friends’ lives and the helpless feeling of watching them die and not being able to do a single fucking thing about it. I thought about ending my life more than once, and just remembering the temptation was enough to make me feel ashamed.
Big Jack wouldn’t give up on me and he refused to let me give up on myself. He’d served in both the European and Pacific theaters in WWII and knew what I was going through. Back then, he’d say, they didn’t put labels on conditions and didn’t invest any time or money helping the soldiers get acclimated when they returned from the battle – not that there wasn’t a lot of room for improvement when it came to veterans’ affairs in the modern era – at least now there had been some changes made.
Granddad read an article one day about emotional service dogs and all the ways they helped returning combat veterans cope. Next thing I knew, he showed up at my loft above the bar I owned with Charlie in tow. He was the absolute best gift I had ever been given, but granddad didn’t stop there. He talked me into meeting with Dr. Noah McKinney, a psychiatrist who specialized in PTSD treatment. I owed my life to Big Jack, Charlie, and Noah.
“Big Jack was a really good man – the best,” Terry told me from across his spacious, walnut desk. His deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts and had me refocusing my attention on him. I just couldn’t understand what was so damn urgent that it couldn’t wait, but Terry was a devoted friend of Big Jack’s and if he said it was important to my granddad then it was. “I know that this is the last place you want to be right now, but I promised I would carry out your granddaddy’s wishes and that is why I asked you to meet me today.” Terry’s hands were formed in a steeple in front of his chin. He lowered his hands and blew out a slow breath before he continued. “What I’m about to do is against the law, but today I’m not acting as Big Jack’s solicitor, I’m acting as his friend.”
“Okay.” I was sure the confusion in my voice was accompanied by a matching expression on my face. “What’s going on, Terry?” I could feel the bite of intrigue in the air around me and it was a welcome change – if only for a short reprieve.
Terry rolled back his chair so he could open the drawer in the center of his desk. He pulled out an envelope then closed the drawer and scooted his chair back up to his desk. Terry placed the envelope on his desk and I saw my name written across it in Big Jack’s handwriting. I’d recognize that masculine scrawl anywhere from all the birthday cards I had received from him growing up and the handwritten letters he sent me while I was serving overseas. I hoped I adequately told him just how much those letters meant to me while I served my two tours in Iraq and two in Afghanistan. It appeared that I was receiving one final letter from my granddad, and fuck if it didn’t have me fighting to keep my shit together.
“Take this letter, Jack, but don’t open it in my office.” Terry’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the seriousness of his tone had me shifting my gaze from the envelope back up to his face. His bushy, white eyebrows were furrowed over his deep set, blue eyes and his mouth was pinched tight. “By law, I should retain that envelope in case it contains anything of value, but I promised Big Jack that I would give that envelope to you upon his death and so I am. I can’t know what is inside; do you understand, Jack?”
I did understand what he was saying, but the only word my mouth could form was, “When?”
“I’m sorry?” Terry was obviously confused by the question so I quickly clarified for him.
“When did granddad write this letter and give it to you?” Had he been sicker than he let on? If we had gotten him help sooner, would he be alive today? I had a pressing need to know.
“Jack, I don’t know what is in the envelope; it could be a letter or perhaps it’s a treasure map. All I can say for sure is that Big Jack gave it to me two weeks ago.” Which was about the same time he refused further treatments. He said he knew that he had lost his war with lung cancer and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days sick and weak from radiation and chemo; I honestly couldn’t blame him. “Big Jack asked me to come see him. He handed me the envelope and gave me instructions to give it to you as soon as he passed away.” It hadn’t been long since he took his final breath so Terry lived up to his promise. He slid the envelope across his desk toward me.
It looked like my hand was moving in slow motion as it reached out and picked the envelope up off the desk. As I did, I felt a small object – perhaps something metal – slide along the bottom of the envelope. I looked at Terry again and found his expression to be inscrutable. It made me question whether or not he knew more than he let on. Sadness slowly creeped into his features and I quickly pushed aside my curiosity and suspicions. Terry was grieving too and there would be time later to talk to him about the envelope contents if I had further questions, which I was certain I would. I folded the envelope in half and slid it inside the back pocket of my jeans.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” Terry said softy, as he eyes misted over with tears.
“Our loss,” I corrected, “he was important to you too. You’ve always been a good friend to Big Jack and I’ve long considered you a part of our family, Terry. Please don’t be a stranger, okay?” Terry silently nodded, unable to use his lips that were trembling with the sorrow he struggled to contain. I was certain he was remembering all of the fishing and camping trips he had taken with my grandfather at Big Jack’s cabin once they both became lonely widowers. I wasn’t sure of Terry’s exact age, but I figured him to be in his late seventies, where my granddad had just turned eighty-eight on his last birthday.
Seeing Terry’s devastation took my mind off my own heartbreak for a few minutes. I reached across the desk and placed my hands on top of his and gave his cold, wrinkled hands a gentle squeeze. I watched as tears leaked over the rim of his eyes and spilled down his weathered cheeks. “Your friendship meant a lot to Big Jack too. You guys became inseparable over the last decade or so, after your wives passed away. He was lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Thanks, Jack.” The older man’s voice was barely above a whisper. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and face with shaky hands. Terry cleared his throat and said, “I was blessed to have a friend like him too. I’m feeling a little lost to be honest.”
“One day at a time, right?” I hoped I said the right things to Terry to maybe bring him a little comfort. I wasn’t a typical Irish Murphy male, who easily expressed their feelings. Instead, I often stumbled over the right words to say. “Granddad wouldn’t want you to be sad, Terry. He’d want you to toss back a pint, a shot of good Irish whiskey, or both in his honor.”
“So true.” A thin smile split his face. “I’ll do just that when I get home. Thank you, Jack.”
I ran out of words to say, so I stood up and warmly shook Terry’s hand before Charlie and I left his office. My heart was crushed, my brain and body were exhausted from lack of sleep. I needed to head back to my parents’ house and get a bite to eat, a hot shower, and crash for a few hours. Maybe then I’d find the courage to open up the envelope that Big Jack left for me – if not, I knew where my dad kept some liquid courage.
“ARE WE THEREyet?” I whined from the backseat of Chase Wright’s car. Chase was my good friend, some-time co-worker at Bottoms Up where we worked for Jack Murphy, and my half-brother. Chase just didn’t know he was my half-brother yet, because I chickened out each and every time I tried to tell him since I met him eighteen months ago. I had to make my move soon, because his best friend and adoptive brother, Xavier Cruz, figured it out and approached me last week. Xavier was kind enough to give me a little more time, but he wouldn’t let me wait long. He loved Chase and it would hurt him to know Xavier had kept a secret like this from him. Regardless of how it goes down with Chase, I refused to let Xavier get thrown under the bus.
“Just a little further,” Chase played along from the front passenger seat. I was looking out the window, but I could hear the smile in his voice. My brother was a good-natured guy and I reminded myself of that every time I started to panic about telling him that we shared a father.
“Don’t make me pull this car over, young man,” Chase’s husband, Grayson, said in a mockingly angry tone.
“Yes, sir.” My heart was pounding heavily in my chest with dread, which I thought suited both the circumstances and the joke, so I let that seep into my voice.
Dread was an awful emotion to feel. It was that weighted brick in your stomach, blood sluggishly flowing through your veins feeling that made you drag your feet as if being led to the executioner’s noose. The dread I was feeling that day was a double edged sword. I wanted Chase to know I was his brother. We were already good friends and I was confident that we could get even closer if he knew the truth - that is if he didn’t hate me for withholding the information for so long. I should have told him as soon as I tracked him down, but I let fear hold me back; it was still holding me back.
“It sure is beautiful here in West Virginia,” Chase said from the front seat directly in front of mine. “The leaves are starting to change and all those shades of orange, yellow, and red just take my breath away. I bet it’s equally as beautiful in the spring when everything turns green with new growth after a long, harsh winter.”
“Let’s plan a weekend getaway for both spring and fall next year. I find the fresh air to be invigorating,” Gray replied. He didn’t bother to hide the suggestive sexual undertones in his remark.
Playing up the whiny kid role, I made gagging and retching noises from the backseat. “As if either of you need any help.” My sarcastic comment was met with laughing from the lovebirds. “If you insist on getting away you might talk to Jack, because his family owns a cabin near the Monongahela National Forest. I’m not sure if they rent it out though.”
