. . . Today was hard, Lil. That's all I can even put on paper. Just hard . . .
. . . So I found out about mom and dad today. You know, I thought it was going to be them getting the news about me. But here I am, bombs and bullets flying overhead, and it's them who die in the tranquility of an afternoon drive. I never wanted them to get that visit at the door. And now I'm thankful that if I go, they won't. But I also realized, that truly, there's nothing to go back to. I've created an entire world where we are together. An alternate reality where it was just you and me. What kind of asshole pines over his brother's wife? I kid myself about these fantasies of you waiting as I come off a ship, in a pretty dress, jumping into my arms. But I know it's a fantasy. Because you have Rory and he has you. And I have no one to come back to. Not even mom and dad. So I think I'm going to stop the bull. Because the truth is I lost you. And writing letters won't change that. And looking at the stars and wondering if you still think about me doesn't change that. I wanted to disappear after the wedding. And I sort of did. Dropping out of school, traveling the country. But mom and dad kept me grounded. Now that they're gone, I can truly vanish. Maybe that's for the best . . .
. . . I know I said I'd stop writing to you, but I'm here in a hospital and I begged the nurse for a paper and pen because I needed someone. And the only person I could think of was you. You're the only person I want to talk to right now. Curtis died. No . . . Curtis was shot in the head standing right next to me. You know, Curtis wasn't just a friend. He was a brother to me. I had to give up Rory in some ways. Actually, many ways. I’m sure he’s hurt that after the wedding I hit the road, and hardly called. Mom and dad told me as much. But I felt like a fraud talking to him. When Curtis came in, I had that feeling again, of a guy I could talk to, rely on. He was here and then in an instant he was gone. I'm not even sure if I'm really here. I think I am because my shoulder hurts, and the wound is there. And I hear the cries of amputees and burn victims. But I should have died. And the only reason I think I'm still here is because I am supposed to do two things Curtis asked of me. One of those things is to go get you. But I can't just get you, can I? You probably have a family now with Rory and have moved on. So that's what I need to do, too. At least I'm going to try. Become someone else for a while. And do at least one of the things I promised Curtis: tell his girl and his brother he loves them. Maybe one day, when I can think of you with a clear head, I'll come back. Just to make sure you're happy. Because if you are, then I'll know I did the right thing. But right now, I can't see you without wanting you. And it's wrong. For you. For Rory . . .
When I reached the end of the letters, I flipped the pages over frantically. I wanted more of him. The ending came too fast again. Reading the letters was sad, but it was a beautiful sadness. The kind of sadness that can only come with profound and extraordinary love. Having a love like this is a gamble, because when you lose, you lose more than you think you can afford to surrender. You lose parts of yourself you think you need to survive.
But with each sentence of Bobby's I read, I bloomed, like a parched plant being fed water. His words filled me with love, giving me back some of those pieces. And for the first time, I felt connected to the life inside of me. Not just an instinct of protection. Not just a source of responsibility. But I felt like a person lived in me. I surged with hope again. With thoughts of the future. With strength. With love.
I reached for the other items in the box. A life insurance policy with me as the beneficiary. His will, leaving me everything in his name, including his inheritance and his truck. A key to a safety deposit box, and a note attached to the key explaining that the box held a couple thousand dollars cash.
I looked up into the blue sky, full of puffy clouds. “I'll take care of her, Bobby,” I whispered. “I'm gonna make you proud.”
A gust of wind lifted the stack of letters, and I grabbed at them, laughing through a heavy heart. Maybe it was just a gust of wind, but it would have been just like Bobby to want to send me scrambling. He was always such a pain in my butt.
But of course, I was still so, so sad. So I hugged the stack of letters and cried for a while. But I drew courage from the words I had read. How a twenty-year-old man had gone through so much loss and never lost his kindness, was never overcome with bitterness. In fact, he came back and touched lives with his spirit. He saw the world and all the beauty in it. He never got wrapped up in the trivial things. He knew what was important.
When I was ready, and the gusts of wind had stilled for good, I walked back to the house.
Will and Sasha were inside cooking lunch. The slap of the screen door closing caught their attention.
“Hey sweetie,” Will said.
I knew it was obvious I had been crying, but they didn't ask.
“Are you hungry?” Sasha asked.
“No, but I should eat anyway,” I said.
“That's probably a good idea,” she answered.
“Not for me, though.”
“Hmm?” she asked, as she laid the lattice-shaped pie dough on a cherry pie.
I was ready to tell them about the pregnancy. In fact, I think this was news they needed. They had accepted Bobby was gone, and now they could use this news to heal instead of just adding to the injury.
“I didn't want to tell you until you had some time to process Bobby's passing . . . but I wasn't just at the hospital for my head.”
I watched Sasha and Will look at each other quizzically.
“I didn't know. I had no idea. Rory and I tried for years and it never happened.”
“You’re with child?” The words barely escaped Sasha's throat.
“I started bleeding . . .” I paused, stopping myself from recollecting the horror of a few days ago. “And they found out I was expecting. I still am.”
“Is it . . . Bobby's?” Will asked the sensitive question delicately.
“Yes . . . um, the timing makes it so. I stopped being with my husband when he got here. And . . . um . . . Rory wouldn't admit it, but I think he has some issues. I don't think he can,” I sighed, “produce.”
Will let out a soft, lingering gasp. A mixture of relief and disbelief.
“But you were bleeding? What did the doctor say? Should you be on bed rest?”
“I'm supposed to follow up, but I was told I should take it easy. As if that's even possible,” I stated bitterly.
“Whatever you need, Lilly,” Will interjected. “You are not alone.”
It's amazing how some simple words can knock you in the chest like a battering ram. I was surrounded by occupied beds in the hospital. My sister sat vigil by me. The streets were filled with movement. But I was in a desert. I was in an invisible purgatory. Stuck between mourning Bobby's death and celebrating the life we had created together.
You are not alone.