Brynn stopped trying to call me a week ago. Under normal circumstances, this would bother me, but I don’t have the energy to keep up with her constant attempts at motivating me. I did call Reid’s mom and thank her for delivering the letter and the box. Then I breathed a sigh of relief when she neglected to bring up what was inside. Even though I’m sure she already knew.
Today, while I clean up the empty take-out boxes and take care of the ever-growing pile of laundry, I stumble upon all the unopened sympathy cards. The first one I open is from Jaxon and actually makes me laugh which I am extremely thankful for.
Jaxon.
My job.
It’s been weeks since I stepped foot in Suppato’s restaurant, and I’m actually starting to miss the comfort it’s always brought. So many nights when Reid was away at boot camp or Recon training or off fighting bad guys in unknown places, Suppato’s was home.
I open a few cards from a couple of old classmates and guys that trained with Reid. Most of the messages are generic but appreciated. The one from Carlos is the most touching, giving me the feeling I’m not the only one who’s felt such a deep loss. I wonder if I’ve just peeled back another layer. The man is an enigma.
But it’s the last one I open that renders me speechless. The outside is nothing special, just a simple vanilla colored envelope with my name on the front. But the message inside makes my blood run cold.
“Someone once said, ‘You never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’ My wish for you is that you have many memories to bring you comfort through the pain. And I hope you find peace. You deserve it.” —Cal
Cal sent this.
Cal said these words.
He took the time out of his day to acknowledge my grief. I gaze blankly at the words in front of me—words that are ironically warm considering the ice-cold reception I get every time I’ve ever seen him.
I stare at the writing until my brain hurts. “You deserve it.”
It looks so familiar, but I can’t think why. Then it hits me. The card that came with my Secret Santa gift read the same way, the same words, in the same sophisticated script.
That’s not possible.
All this time I thought it was Jaxon. Why would Cal have done something like that for me?
He wouldn’t. I don’t even know him.
The birthday flowers?
No.
That was the night he practically fired bullets at me with his words. Why would he send flowers ten minutes later?
I remember how jealous Reid was when I mentioned them and laugh. Ha. If he only knew.
Then I start thinking about Reid in general, and my chest tightens until I can’t breathe.
Over the next few weeks, I venture more and more outside of my safe zone and into the real world. I even make sure to call Brynn and Ryleigh at least twice a week.
The time Reid and I spent away from each other over the past two years has helped me realize something about myself: As long as I’m distracted, I can cope. For me, the best distractions have always been school and work. So, after a little brainstorming, I decide to begin working toward my NP. I couldn’t save Reid, but that doesn’t mean I have to quit trying to save other people.
I have enough money in my savings to buy approximately ten packs of Ramen noodles and a jug of Hawaiian Punch. The bills aren’t going to pay themselves, so I need to go back to work.
As much as Suppato’s felt like home, I can’t go back there. Every time I think I might be able to get that part of my life back, my thoughts shift to Cal and the card… mostly just Cal. And I get angry.
I’ve never had anyone react to me the way he does, and it’s unsettling. When I think about the way he always looked at me, the way he talked to me, about how easily he dismissed me when I offered him help, then somehow thought buying me expensive gifts would atone for his rude behavior, my emotions toggle between feeling livid and being confused.
Why?
Why would someone be as equally generous as they are dismissive?
I think about how much I’ve grown to respect and care for Carlos. Cal is the complete opposite of his father. Then I wonder what happened. What made him that way?
Because something always happens, right? People aren’t born assholes. Life makes them that way.