To Say Goodbye (11 page)

But he was miserable. It was hard work, thankless work. He couldn’t see himself doing it forever.

So last week, he’d made a rash decision. His dad was right. The military was a respectable career. It was something to be proud of. He could do it. It would be good for him, a prudent choice.

Tim, however, didn’t think so.

“I just think your father isn’t seeing clearly. He’s seeing what he wants to see. He’s seeing what he wanted Wade to be.”

“Don’t.” Jackson’s voice was stern.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like talking about it, especially this time of year. But Jackson, you can’t be Wade. You shouldn’t have to be. I think your father puts that on your shoulders.”

“Listen, this is my choice. It’s an admirable choice.”

“I support you no matter what, you know that. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

Tim grinned. “All right then, soldier. Let’s see what you’re made of, get you ready for combat.”

“
Call of Duty 2
? I don’t think they use this at boot camp.”

“You never know.”

They laughed as they grabbed their controllers, Tim pushing the button on their garage game room Xbox. They rang in Christmas like they had for so many years—playing video games, shooting each other, and laughing.

Within a few months, Jackson knew he would be gone, shipped off to boot camp, to a life far from his life of
Call of Duty
, Tim, and their hometown. Things would change drastically, and life would take a twisted turn.

That Christmas, the Christmas before he changed his life course, Jackson felt blessed to have such an awesome friend in his life.

_______________

Jackson found himself standing in front of his gaming console, flipping through the games. There it was, the case beat-up, the disk probably scratched.
Call of Duty 2
.

Feeling nostalgic, wishing he could go back, Jackson did the only thing he could think to do on this lonely Christmas Eve.

He popped the disk in and warmed up his shooting skills once more.

_______________

Scattered hunks of wrapping paper littered his parents’ living room floor. Jace, exhausted from the excitement, napped on the sofa. The whole family had eaten more ham, turkey, and green bean casserole than recommended.

Christmas was done.

It had been a relatively merry Christmas, all things considered. Jackson had spent the day with his family, watching the holiday through Jace’s eyes, trying not to envy his sister and brother-in-law for their happiness. It wasn’t their fault they had a functional family unit and he didn’t.

He’d held it together, plastered a semi-genuine grin on his face for the day. He tried not to think of all those missing, tried to be thankful for what he had.

He’d laughed at all the right parts of
A Christmas Story,
a Gauge family tradition. He ate three helpings of dinner. He smiled graciously at the socks and underwear his mom bought him, thanked Gretta for the gift card to the gaming store. He passed on the wine, whiskey, and beer.

Driving home, though, his emotions started to unwind. The fake enthusiasm of the day peeled away, revealing the cracked, broken man underneath.

He was afraid to go home, afraid to find himself wallowing in sadness and, consequentially, in alcohol. He was afraid of hitting rock bottom again. He was afraid of being alone.

So he did something a bit rash, a bit crazy.

He turned his truck around and headed in the other direction, driving toward the one person he wanted to see, hoping she wasn’t too busy or too depressed or too anything to spend time with him.

_______________

“Jackson?” She was obviously surprised to see him at the door ten minutes later, and he was surprised to find her alone. The television played in the background, and she was wearing pajamas.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Definitely not,” she replied, ushering him in.

“Are you alone?”

“Should I be creeped out by that question?” she teased, smiling as she pulled her robe around her.

“Sorry. Let me explain. You see, I thought about going home and watching some lame Christmas movies or drinking myself into a coma. So I didn’t have to think about my son, Tim, or Wade. But then I started thinking. You’re probably having a pretty crappy night too, right? I mean, best case scenario, I figured your family was hovering around you, telling you it would be okay, buying you fuzzy socks and perfume hoping they’ll make you forget about Tim.”

She nodded, laughing. “That was my early evening spot-on.”

“Okay. Then I figured worst case, you were here alone, wallowing in sadness, replaying your Christmases with Tim movie style to sappy music in your head, also drowning in a bottle of wine.”

She sheepishly nodded, turning to eye the half-empty bottle of wine on the end table by the couch. “And that summarizes the rest of my night.”

“I thought so. So on the way home from my family’s overly festive Christmas feast, I realized something. Since both of us are having a shitty Christmas, why not spend the evening together?”

“Misery loves company?”

“Sort of. More like, commiserating while also keeping each other out of depression status.”

“And what did you have in mind?”

“A walk?”

“A walk? That was your master, soul-saving idea?”

“Yep. A walk. In the freezing cold air. Two miserable friends walking on Christmas trying to abate the loneliness and shittiness of the season.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how could I resist? Let me go change.”

“Don’t change. Just throw a coat on. You don’t have to impress anyone today.”

She eyed him like he was crazy, but the wine was probably dulling her rational thoughts. “Okay, then. Lead the way.”

It’s a stupid idea, really
, he thought as she followed him into the brisk December air. The moon was out, lighting their path. It was cold but not completely unbearable. It was a good temperature to walk with Sophia, to let the pure state of their friendship coupled with a jaunt through nature numb him to his thoughts.

“Despite your lack of eloquence, I do appreciate this,” she said, turning to him. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, and her hair was in its customarily messy ponytail. “I told my parents to leave, that I was fine. I really wasn’t. I was in a pretty low place. You saved me from making a huge mistake, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I was contemplating putting in our wedding video when you came to the door.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Yeah, I know. Masochistic at least. I just, I don’t know... I wanted to see him. You know?”

“Yeah. I get it. But please don’t. Don’t do it. Not yet.”

“So from the sounds of it, your holiday wasn’t much better?”

He stared ahead, eying the glassy road as they meandered forward. “Nope. My ex-wife refused to budge on the custody agreement. She gets Christmas this year with Logan. I wanted to just stop by, to just see him for a little bit. She refused.”

“She wouldn’t consider it at all? Not even for Christmas?”

“Nope.”

“Jackson, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. I can’t really blame her. Hey, do you want to sit for a few?” They had reached the tiny park at the end of the block. A bench illuminated by a streetlight humbly invited them in.

She nodded, parking herself on the bench. He sat beside her.

“So what happened? Tell me.”

He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to open up. “Well, I came home from the military. I’d left to be with her, to be with Logan. I was tired of having to leave. It wasn’t fair to either of them. So I quit. I’d been home a week when she told me the truth. She was seeing someone else. She was leaving me.”

Sophia gasped, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. It was. She took my son, moved him in with Seth, and left me with the house. Not the homecoming I’d planned. I was jobless, wifeless, and sonless. I was pretty low. So I started drinking. A lot. Alcoholic level a lot.”

She looked at him, her eyes sparkling from the streetlight. She didn’t gasp, didn’t judge. She just listened. He tensed his jaw.

“One night, about a month after she left, I got really drunk. The booze gave me this crazy idea to get in my truck and drive to see Logan. I was on my way when I lost control of the vehicle and crashed into a tree.”

“Oh my God! That’s awful.”

“Yeah. Luckily for me, I wasn’t hurt, and I didn’t hurt anyone else. It wasn’t as serious as it could have been. But I had no one to call. A guy I worked construction with came and picked me up. I was lucky I wasn’t caught by the police. It’s a small town, though, and Chloe, of course, found out. She was pissed, especially since I’d been on my way to Logan. She filed for sole custody immediately. Her lawyer painted me out to be a basket case from my Iraq tours, and she won, leaving me with a few weekends a month and a few appointed holidays.”

“That’s not fair. She did this. She started it.”

He smiled at her. It felt good to have someone on his side, deserved or not.

“Can you appeal?” she asked.

“I’d sort of given up on everything. But recently, I’ve been talking about it with my brother-in-law. He thinks we have a shot.”

“Don’t give up. You’re a good man. You made a mistake. I think the court was crazy not to see that.”

“I’ve had some shady moments in my past, some rock bottom moments. Being in Iraq took its toll. I’m not a saint, Sophia. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“None of us are.”

He looked over at her now, this woman who’d been through so much, yet she was comforting him. “How are you holding up? Really?”

“Honestly? I’m not. I mean, I put on a good show during the day, but it’s awful. Some days, I don’t even want to get out of bed. Some days, I feel like it’s going to be okay, like I can be okay, only to have some other aspect of my life tell me otherwise. Most days, racking pain surges through my entire body. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.”

He instinctively reached over, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her in to him.

“We’re quite the pair, huh?”

She eyed him now, pulling back slightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—”

“I know.” She settled back against him, and they sat for a few moments looking at the stars, wondering what the new year could possibly bring.

“I’m glad you stayed in town,” Sophia murmured. He squeezed her arm.

“Me too.”

“Thanks for making Christmas a little bit more bearable.”

“Same here.”

“And Jackson?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her now, her blue eyes gleaming up at him, her cheeks slightly pink from the chill of the night air.

“You’re a good man. Chloe’s a stupid bitch if she doesn’t see that. You fight for Logan. You fight until you get him back. You survived Iraq. You can survive some stupid woman who has her head up her ass.”

He smiled. “Tell me how you really feel, huh?”

“I don’t like censoring myself.”

“I see that. But thank you.”

She did something surprising then, something that jolted him to life.

Under the moonlight on Christmas night, perhaps still emboldened by the contents of the wine bottle, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips felt smooth and shocking against the cold of his cheek.

“I can see why Tim thought you were such a good friend, even when you two lost touch,” she said. She jumped to her feet then, before he had time to think about it. She pulled him off the bench and they headed toward her house in silence, the calmness of the neighborhood soothing both of them into a place of complacency if not downright peace.

Jackson

“H
ey. I hope you like coffee.” Jackson stood sheepishly holding two Dunkin Donuts large coffees at her door. She was dressed in leggings and a T-shirt and looked peaceful.

The holidays had been gone for a couple of weeks, and the two had fallen into somewhat of a routine. Once or twice a week, he’d show up at her door. She’d grab a coat, and they’d take a walk through her neighborhood. They’d stroll down memory lane together, too, talking about Tim, old times, and old dreams. They’d talk like two old friends who’d just rediscovered each other. Talking with her felt like talking with a piece of Tim. He felt close to him again by being with her.

It was more than that, though.

Sophia understood loss. She didn’t try to tell him he should cheer up or be thankful. She didn’t begrudge him feelings of depression, hurt, or anger when he talked about Logan. She let him simmer in the grief, let him spew about it. She made him feel okay.

Jackson needed to be near her, not just for comfort, but also for a pull all too familiar. There was something about her, something about the way her hair frizzed a bit at the top, something about the way she aimlessly twirled the loose hair around her face. There was something about her delicate hands when they reached out to touch his arm, the way her blue eyes glimmered like she could feel his pain.

He shut down that side of his heart, closed off any lascivious feelings that were emerging.

She’s your best friend’s wife,
he reminded himself.
She’s off-limits. This is crazy.

He promised himself—promised Tim—nothing would come of it. Sure, she was gorgeous; every man who came in contact with her was probably pulled in by her. Who wouldn’t be? But she certainly didn’t feel anything toward him, and he would never expect her to. It would be too weird.

“Thank you,” she said, the smile lighting up her face. “Are you kidding? I love coffee.” She helped herself to one of the cups in his hand and wandered back inside, not needing to lead him inside anymore. He knew the way. “What’s up? You’re earlier than usual.”

“Yeah, I got off work early. I wanted to stop by, see how you’re doing.”

She smiled. “Better now. Who can resist a man with coffee?”

He felt his cheeks redden as he looked at the ground, fiddling with his coffee cup.

She reddened now, too. “Sorry. That sounded awkward.”