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“Wow, this is a nice little spot,” Jonah said, taking a seat on the bench.
I sat next to him, leaving little space between us. “I come here sometimes. It’s a great spot to read a book. I’ve read entire novels here. Especially if you bring a blanket to cover the bench, give it a little more cushion.”
“So, you would bird-watch a lot during your deployment?”
I nodded, a small part of me growing warm at the realization Jonah remembered what I had said. “Yeah, it really helped me. I know you probably think it’s weird, but I don’t know… it just kept my head from feeling like it was going to pop, if that makes any sense. Some guys turn to alcohol, some guys turn to anger, some guys turn to nowhere. I turned to bird-watching, and it kept me really grounded.”
“I don’t think it’s weird.” Jonah looked at me with a dead-set look in his eyes. “At all. It’s great. I think everyone needs something to keep them from feeling like the world’s crashing around them all the time. I completely get it.” He was smiling, and the way he spoke, it really made me feel like he did understand what I was saying.
And of course he did. Jonah had been shot in the line of duty, missing death by a hair’s width of space. Of course he understood the need.
“Do you guys have a name? Bird-watchers? The watchers?” Jonah spoke with an added flair of drama.
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Birders.”
“Okay, all right. So maybe not as cool as the watchers, but still cool.”
“What do you mean? The League of Extraordinary Birders doesn’t sound cool?”
‘“Now that, that sounds badass.”
More laughing, more enjoying the moment. I felt myself at full ease around Jonah, and it was then that I also felt foolish. Why was I holding so much of myself back from him when he had proven more than trustworthy? He had literally saved my life back in Graffiti Graveyard.
“Birding really helped me when I got back home, though. After my mom passed away.”
Jonah stayed quiet, giving me the space to open up. He must have felt the shift between us, something unlocking.
“She died of a drug overdose.”
“Oh, Fox. Sorry…”
“I blame myself sometimes. She was fine before I left—broken but okay. My dad, he died after driving his car off a bridge. He was an alcoholic. He was an aggressive drinker, and my mom bore the brunt of it. She did her best to shield me. And, like most abuse victims, she couldn’t make it out of his grip. And I… I didn’t help her. I ran. I signed up for the military the first chance I could get. I knew she was torn about it; I knew it must have hurt her. But she was happy to see me go, and to get away from that house.” I swallowed, having to brace myself after being hit by a sudden and surprising surge of raw emotion.
Jonah did something surprising then, and something very much needed.
He reached his hand over and placed it on mine. It was all I needed to gather myself and push through.
“She didn’t get hooked on opioids until I had left. After my father left her with a really bad broken shoulder. I should have been there… I wasn’t. When I got back, it was too late. I lost her. And then my father, the coward he was, drank an entire bottle of vodka and went over that bridge.”
“Fox, I need you to know that none of that was your fault. You did what was best for you, and that’s something I know your mom wanted. Who knows what could have happened if you had stayed. Maybe the world would be missing one more bright soul. Maybe you needed to be out of that situation to survive it. And you did. Now, all you can do is keep going and making your mom proud every single day.”
I was crying. I didn’t realize it until I tasted salt on my lips. I wiped at my cheeks, looking away, surprised at myself. Jonah’s hand was still on mine.
Thank God Jonah’s hand was still on mine.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that before,” I said, speaking only when I was sure my voice wouldn’t crumble. “You know, I opened up like this to someone else. Told them about my mom… They took what I gave them, whittled it into a shank, and stabbed me right in the chest. I found it hard to trust after that. Not to say you aren’t trustworthy—I think we’ve established that I would already trust you with my life—it’s just…”
“Not with your past?”
“Not yet.”
The words sat in the air, mingling with the melodic chirps and trills of the singing birds.
“That’s okay,” Jonah said. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who’s in debt with you for life.”
