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He didn’t call in the morning like he promised.
***
&nbs
p; The funeral was hard.
Bradberry’s one and only church was positioned in the center of town and it was packed that day. People crammed themselves into the pews and when those were full, they stood against the walls. The doors remained open throughout the service so more people could listen from outside.
I sat with Wyatt and his mom in the front row. I held Wyatt’s hand while the preacher spoke about Mr. Murphy’s attributes. He went on and on about Anderson Murphy being a war hero. His medals and accomplishments were listed in chronological order and everyone murmured their appreciation.
I nodded along with them, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. My tongue felt like it was cemented to the roof of my mouth. I knew if I forced it free, I would start to cry. The last thing Wyatt needed was to feel like he needed to take care of me too.
He had his hands full with his mom. He didn’t need to take care of anyone else.
The service ended and everyone moved along to the burial.
I forced myself to hold it together while we traveled to the cemetery. Mrs. Murphy was handed a folded flag, and she succumbed yet again to violent sobs. Wyatt held her tightly and I stood beside them, silent as ever.
For a week, I tried everything I could, to be there for Wyatt.
I asked him if he wanted to talk, he didn’t.
When I sat with him in silence, he told me to leave.
I brought food but he didn’t eat it.
No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough for him to let me in. I felt useless and devoid of hope, but I pushed on. I knew Wyatt needed me, even if he couldn’t say it. I promised myself I would be there, silent and ready whenever he finally came to me.
He never did.
As the funeral ended, the guests began to file out of the cemetery. Wyatt and I watched while they all got into their cars and drove away. There was going to be a wake at Wyatt’s house, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get there. Mrs. Murphy left with her sister, leaving Wyatt and I alone at the gravesite.
I held Wyatt’s hand tightly. He stared at his father’s casket without speaking. I glanced over at him and was surprised to see he had finally succumbed to tears.
He was crying silently while the cemetery personnel lowered his father into the ground. They told us we didn’t have to stay for that part, but Wyatt didn’t move so I didn’t either.
I wrapped my arms around Wyatt’s waist and rested my head against his arm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly.
“No,” Wyatt said. He wiped away the tears impatiently and turned to face me. “But, there is something I need to tell you.”
“Okay,” I said with a frown. I couldn’t imagine what was so important that he needed to tell me then, right after his father’s funeral.
“After graduation, I’m leaving for basic training,” Wyatt said.
His voice was even, devoid of any emotion.
“What?” I blinked, doing a good imitation of an owl.
I had heard him wrong. There was no way…
“I enlisted in the Army,” he explained. “With my undergrad degree, I can be a medic. Not a doctor, but a medic.”
“What about medical school?” I asked blankly.
With tempest of thoughts whirling around my head, it was the first one I could grasp clearly.
