“Brad, he’s gone. He’s gone,” I say over and over. Brad eventually falls back, and I pull Scotty’s body into my arms. I silently weep into him as the most painful and guttural sound leaves Brad, and I know that sound will stay with me for the rest of my life. I cling to Scotty’s body, willing him back to life, but it’s useless. He’s gone. He’s left us, and I think he took a piece of me, a piece of all of us with him.
As the sounds of gunfire cease, an eerie silence falls. I haven’t been able to let go of Scotty’s body. I hug him tightly to my chest, already feeling the coldness seep into his skin. Brad stares blankly at the wall, silent, unmoving.
I hear them. I see them, but I don’t move.
Jack and Harry stand in the doorway of the compound. They must see the bloodstains on the floor, the unwrapped bandages, and the unused IV bag. They must see the efforts we made to save him, but it wasn’t enough.
The noise of their grief sounds so far away, or maybe it was that I had floated off to somewhere else. I always thought I would know how to handle a death like this, but it turns out that no amount of preparation or training can give you the skills to handle it. I don’t know how much time passed, but Jack’s hand rests on mine, where I have held Scotty to me in an iron grip.
“Noah, you need to let him go.” I shake my head rapidly, all my professionalism and composure gone. How do we get up and leave and go on with life after this? How do we tell his family? How do we tell Tori?
“We need to leave, but we’ll all do it together,” Jack reassures me, his voice shaky. I reluctantly release my grip on Scotty and let his limp body roll into Jack's arms.
The IC from the other team that came as backup appears in the doorway. His face falls, and he looks to the floor, composing himself for a second before asking.
“Do you want my team to take him?”
I’m the first to answer. “No, we’ve got him,” I choke out.
The four of us move in silence as we circle Scotty, and we all take a second to look down at our friend who, just a short time ago, was walking alongside us and now lies lifeless before us. A reminder of how quickly life can change.
I look at my team, my friends, my brothers in arms, and note this will be the last time we will all be together. I close my eyes and take a centering breath and say, “Let’s carry him home.”
Chapter Five
Tori
Another week passes with no letter, no phone call, and my anxiety levels are through the roof. An unsettling feeling has burrowed into my core, and no matter what I do, I can’t shift it. Something feels wrong, but I can’t pinpoint what. All I can do is keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep busy. I have my first OBGYN appointment this week. I think I am almost eight weeks along. I’m having an ultrasound, and I can’t wait to see my little dot on the screen; it will, at the very least, take some of this heaviness away when I am reassured everything is hopefully progressing as it should.
I know Trent will call or write when he can, but the silence is unnerving. It’s so hard navigating such a big life change without the person you want to share it all with. I wanted to tell him over the phone, to hear the shock, elation, fear in his voice when Iutter the words ‘I’m pregnant’. But I knew I couldn’t keep it in any longer, so I just hope he gets to read the letter I sent soon and he calls.
I kick off my work heels, take off my white blouse, and unzip my pencil skirt that is now getting a little tight around the waist. Opening my dresser, I search for my favorite pair of gray cotton pajamas. Tonight, I need calm and comfort.
Glancing at the clock, I note it’s almost 8pm. I decide on a herbal tea to drink as I watch this week’s episode ofSex and the City, and I light the gas stove, fill the kettle, and place it on the stove. I reach for two mugs out of habit and slowly place the second one back; the one that I want to make for Trent. I miss him. I miss hearing his voice, the way he made me laugh just by doing the silliest things. I miss waking up to a text message, and I miss the goodnight phone calls. The past month has made me realize I am done with our back and forth, carefree, let’s just have fun, attitude with our relationship, and I think he felt it too. When he comes back home, that’s it. I’m all in. I’m telling him I love him, and I want us to be a proper family. That he’s mine and I am his. Always.
A knock on my apartment door disturbs my thoughts, and immediately, my internal alarm bells start ringing.
The knocking happens again; louder this time. I hesitantly step toward the door, my heart thundering so loud, it’s the only thing I hear. I hold my breath as I squint through the peephole, praying it’s a Girl Scout selling cookies or a pizza delivery guy who got the wrong apartment, but when I see my brother,Harry, dressed in dark clothing, his head hanging low, I open the door with shaky hands. I don’t give him a second to speak, lunging toward him, wrapping my arms around his broad frame so tightly I think I could leave bruises. When he hugs me back with a tightness that sends my nerves into overdrive, I know something is very wrong.
I lean back, cupping his face with trembling hands, and the dimness in his eyes and the dark circles surrounding them confirm my biggest fear: something happened.
I step back, relaxing the hold I have on him, and my body and my mind take over. “Do you want some tea?” I turn on my heel and head for my kitchen. With every step I take, my vision blurs, my breathing becoming erratic.
I reach inside the cupboard for another mug and place the tea bag inside.
“Herbal or ordinary?” I ask.
No, no, everything’s fine. He’s just been sent home early. Everything’s fine, I say on repeat to myself.
“Tori,” my brother’s broken voice says, “I need to—”
I cut him off. “I’m having peppermint. Does that work for you?” My words are manic. I grip the countertop to steady my swaying body. I clamp my eyes shut and try to take in a breath, but I can’t. Everything feels wrong. I know why he’s here, but my mind won’t let me hear it.
“Tori, something happened, and—”
“If you don’t want peppermint, I can make you coffee. I don’t have milk. It’s been making me sick, but I can go to the store. Yes, I’ll go to the store. Let me get my purse.” I push past him, but he takes hold of my wrist.
“Tori, please,” he begs, and still, I can’t look at him. I shrug him off, frantically searching for my purse.
