Sydney shivers and crosses her arms over herself.
There’s a wooden pallet in the corner, and I drag it to the middle of the floor and drape a drop cloth over it. Sydney sinks into it and shivers. I slide my jacket off and drape it over her shoulders.
“Here. Take this.”
She pulls it around her shoulders, getting lost inside.
“Wait here,” I tell her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I return a few minutes later with a lantern I found in the staff room and the last mug of coffee. “Yours was empty and this is lukewarm.”
I hold it out to her, and she takes a sip. Her shoulders drop, and for the first time the defensive expression is gone from her face.
“Thank you.”
I nod once, listening to the wind howl through the vents. A long beat goes by.
“You deserve to know what happened. Why I re-enlisted. I wrote it to you in letters, but I guess you never read them.
I turn to her in the faint glow from the lantern. I can’t see her expression. But she doesn’t stop me, so I go on.
“Did I ever tell you about Tank? The guy I was in foster care with?”
There’s a long silence. “You never told me anything about when you were in foster care.”
She’s right. Some things aren’t worth talking about, or they’re too painful. I never wanted to come across as complaining. Foster care sucks, but shit happens, and I got out of there and found myself a purpose in the army. There never seemed to be any point in talking about it. But perhaps I should have.
“Tank was in the same foster home as I was. The last one I was in before I aged out of the system.”
I pause, remembering the bright-eyed kid with the wicked grin who could talk to anyone about anything while stealing their wallet from right under their noses.
“He was the closest thing I ever had to a brother. He was the smartest kid I ever knew, but he hated school. We enlisted at the same time. We did basic training together and were put in the same platoon. But we got separated on the second enlistment. It’s not surprising the army saw his potential. He was trained in logistics; I was left in infantry.”
I take a swig of coffee, wishing it was something stronger to dull the ache in my chest.
“Tank was killed by an IED in Iraq. It happened on my last leave.”
Sydney stiffens beside me. My last leave was when we got close.
“While we were playing happy families, some fucker was making crude bombs to end his life.”
I squeeze the coffee mug so tight my fingers hurt.
“I heard about his death on the final day of re-enlistment. He was my brother, Sydney. I had to go back to the fight. I had to honor him.
“I still wear his dog tags.” I pull the metal from around my neck, and it catches in the dim light. I carry a piece of my brother with me every day.
Sydney stirs next to me, and I continue before she has time to cut me off.
“I hated the way I did it, with a letter. I thought there would be time to see you, but because I’d left it to the last minute, I had to report straight to Fort Bragg. We were shipped out the next day.”
“I would have waited for you.”
Her words cut to my heart.
“I know. But I was cut up by his death. All I wanted was to get the fuckers who had ended his life, and I was ready to lay down my life to do it. I truly thought the only way I would be coming back was in a body bag. I didn’t want you to have that grief. I thought it would be easier if you forgot about me.”
There’s silence between us, and I can hear Sydney breathing.
