As I sit, another email comes up, Jacob again. Only two lines this time.
Jess,
I just need to know if you’re okay. I love you.
Jacob
I should write him back. I’ve started a hundred times, but what do I tell him? That the service was excruciating? That it was impossible to say good-bye to a box—a flag draped coffin? That my entire world, everything that made me feel safe and happy and normal has shattered. That Mom quit work to homeschool Tyler because he couldn’t handle going back? That I’m jealous of Jasmine and her connection to his family?
Or how about the other connection, the one I made with Michael? I kissed him. I slept in his arms when the pain of being alone was too much to handle. He calls me every night now. He tells me he loves me.
Or maybe I could tell him that the more I read about the war, the more I hate it. And I can’t stay away from it. It’s like an obsession now. I could tell him I blame him for all of this. He talked Matt into joining the Army. Matt should be home right now, finishing college, planning his wedding with Kendra.
My phone rings.
It’s Michael.
“Hey Hon. How are you doing today?”
“Okay.”
“So you survived your Chemistry test?”
Survived. What a stupid word to use for a stupid test.“I think I did okay.”
“That’s good.” He hesitates, like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he starts talking about what’s going on in his life—about the delays in his approval for medical school and how he's getting transferred to another unit at the same base. I barely comment. This happens a lot. I don’t know if he’s that self-centered or if he’s just used to my silence and he feels like someone has to make these phone calls meaningful.
I realize he’s waiting for a response from me. “What?” I ask.
“I said, ‘What kind of car did you decide on?’”
“Actually, I'm not sure. Dad picked it out. It has a lot of miles on it, but he said it runs pretty well.” I’m tracing my finger over the trackpad on my laptop, watching the cursor circle Jacob’s words.
“I wish you would’ve let me help you with the car. I’d like to see you in something nicer. Something really reliable. You’ve spent enough time on the side of the road.”
“It’s fine.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes. “I wish you’d talk to me, Jess.”
I close my eyes and inhale through my nose. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Talk, Jess, just talk. I’ve been through this before. I know you need to talk about things. I meant what I said. Anything, anytime.”
Bring my brother back.
“I need to go, Michael. I have to be up early.”
“That’s right, you’re going home tomorrow. How long are you going to be there?”
“Just there and back. Long enough to pick up the car. I have to work on Sunday.” I can’t tell him that I volunteered for an extra shift so I’d have to leave early. The idea of being home even overnight terrifies me—too many reminders that Matthew isn’t there and that he isn’t coming back.
“When is Jacob coming home?”
The question catches me off guard. I look at the email again, feeling guilty. “Next week.”
He doesn’t ask if I’m going to see him. I don’t volunteer that information. He breathes into the phone like there's something he wants to say, but he doesn't. Finally he says, “I’ll let you sleep. Drive carefully, okay? Call me when you get there. I want to see a picture of your new car."
He knows that I'll do none of those things, but maybe he feels like he has to say them anyway.
