Letters from War (21 page)

They're sitting in the back of a coffee shop that's open twenty-four hours. Emily hasn't said much since they walked over here to talk.

“Em, what's going on?”

“Nothing's wrong. Okay? I mean, I'm not pregnant or in trouble with the law and I haven't been kidnapped by al-Qaeda.”

“Stop it.”

“I'm fine. Besides my new iPhone being lost. That nearly killed me.”

“Why would you skip classes for a week?”

“Because I'm thinking of dropping out.”

For a while, Beth can't think of anything to say.

Of all the things she thought she might hear tonight, this is not one of them.

“Why? Why in the world would you want to do something like that?”

“It's not that I
want
to. It's just—I can't really sum it up exactly.”

“Why don't you try?” Beth says.

“Don't be all annoyed.”

“I'm more than annoyed.”

“I just don't know what I want. What I
should
want. I mean—a big part of the reason I'm even going here is because of Dad. Because it was always about University of Tennessee. He's not even here to see me attending. And neither is James.”

“You wanted to come here.”

“I don't know what I want. I just—want a break.”

“A break? Didn't you just have one this summer?”

“No. I mean a break. A break to figure out where I'm going. What I'm supposed to do.”

“I don't get it.”

Emily nods and scratches at the side of the coffee
cup she hasn't even touched. “Everybody has their place in our family. Dad knew what he was all about. So did James. You're the mother of James and the grandmother of Richie. Even Britt is something. She has her identity. But me—what am I? Or who am I? I've spent my entire life around people who know who they are.”

“Me? Who am I?”

“An army wife. A mom. A grandmother.” Emily continues. “All along, I've wondered who I'm supposed to be. I've even wondered if I should join the army.”

“You have not.”

“I've never told you or James but I think—well, should I? I mean, everybody else has found their destiny. What about mine?”

“You're twenty-one. You don't have to find it right away.”

“Dad discovered it, right? So did James.”

“Some people spend their whole life trying to find an identity. You're so young. You'll find it.”

“Some people I've known have gone looking for it. They've taken a break.”

“That's just ridiculous,” Beth says. “Why would you do this suddenly? Why now?”

“I've been thinking about this all summer. It's just—you've been pretty occupied with other things.”

It's true.

Emily goes on. “And it's okay. Mom—it's okay. I get
it. I would be doing a lot worse if I was in your shoes.”

“You are in my shoes.”

“No. It's different. I can't really understand what you're going through. I've tried but I can't.”

“Em, I'm sorry. For not being there this summer. For being so busy.”

“It's fine.”

“No, it's not. I was so scared that something happened to you tonight.”

“I'm fine.”

“I didn't know that. I was terrified.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You have to tell me these things.”

“Like the lost phone?”

Beth grabs her daughter's hand. “Like the lost place in life. You need to let me know.”

“That's what I'm doing now, right?”

“I'm sorry it took me this long to listen.”

“I'm just trying to figure out what's next, you know?”

As Beth nods her head, she realizes that it's about time that she does the same.

Maybe it's time to stop waiting and wondering and believing.

Maybe I've put life on hold.

Maybe I've been busy and have avoided living. Maybe I've been outrunning life and responsibilities.

Maybe I've lost my identity, too.

Maybe his body and his soul are at rest and it's time for me to do the same—to put to rest all the questions and wondering and hoping.

Maybe James never made it after saving Corporal Jesse Burks.

Maybe he died in a hole from starvation. Otherwise, why wouldn't he be displayed and forced to talk to a camera to renounce the war?

Maybe James was strong and resisted speaking out. Maybe he got shot or decapitated doing so.

Maybe James lost his mind.

Maybe he escaped only to wander around in the foothills of a place vaguely resembling hell. Maybe he managed to get to a safe place only to realize he was stuck and couldn't go anywhere else.

Maybe he's watching me now, all alone in a cloud of doubt, wondering what he can do to make things easier.

Maybe James is throwing a football with Richard in heaven.

Maybe that idea is better suited to a birthday card than to dwelling inside of my mind.

Maybe it's time I stop with all the maybes of life and get to the things I know and can do.

“I saw James yesterday.”

For a second, Beth leaves the fork in the mashed potatoes. “You saw James? Where?”

Between her and Britt, there is enough food on the table for a family of six. Maybe that's one of those subconscious things, something that a counselor would analyze with some deep, pithy meaning. For Beth, it's a habit that started when she married and then had two children. Some habits aren't hard to break. Some habits she doesn't want to break.

“On the sidewalk. Right in front of me. Wearing his military garb. Walking like nothing was wrong.”

There has to be a punch line and Beth waits.

“I called out his name and actually ran to him. I
ran.
Can you believe it? And the poor man, who really looked nothing like James—I was so embarrassed when I went up and grabbed him. I couldn't say a word.”

“So you didn't tell him?”

Britt laughs, her eyes sad and amused at the same time. “Other people were looking at us. I just felt so pathetic.”

“I'm sorry.”

There it goes, another meal half finished. Beth's appetite has vanished again.

“I swear, for a brief moment I thought it was him.”

Beth notices the freckles on Britt's nose and cheeks. Even though Richie takes so much after his father, he still has reminders of his mother, like the handful of freckles.

“Is it always going to be like this?”

“No,” Beth says.

“Are you sure?”

“You remember those first few weeks with Richie? Maybe the first few months?”

“They were kind of a blur.”

“I remember so many people telling me after I had Emily that things were going to get better. The sleep deprivation, the long days and the longer nights, the fussiness that never seemed to go away. Times when I'd be alone and I'd just wonder if
this
was my life. It eventually got easier.”

“But do you think this ever will?” Britt asks with a sigh.

“I promise you, sweetie. Life isn't going to always be on hold. It can't be.”

“Some of the stories I've heard. Wives who have moved on and then discovered their husbands alive. I just can't…”

“I know.”

Britt stares down at her plate. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Yes, you should. You can say anything to me.”

“Sometimes I think that when James went missing over there, a part of me went missing too.”

I know, sweetheart, I know and I understand and if I could I'd do anything to help. I would.

“I just want that part back,” Britt says. “Even if James never comes home, I want to find that part of me again.”