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“Why don’t you go home?” Wyatt said not unkindly. They were not kind either. His words were firm and he still refused to look directly at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I can stay,” I said quickly. “I don’t mind.”
“No,” he shook his head. “We’re fine.”
“But-”
I started to protest again but he cut me off.
“Go home, Hailey,” he repeated, voice harder now. “I don’t need you here.”
I jerked as if he had struck me. I reeled from his sudden lack of patience with me. From his words. He had never spoken to me like that before.
It felt like a physical blow.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he continued, but he wasn’t even looking at me now. He turned back to tend to his mom.
I hesitated still but couldn’t find the words to make this better.
“Okay,” I nodded eventually, not knowing what else to do.
My word was said to his back.
He didn’t look back at me again.
I stood up reluctantly, and took a few steps toward the front door. I didn’t want to leave. It was the last thing I wanted, but I knew better than to start an argument with Wyatt.
He was going through enough. I thought he would need me, that he would want me around to hold him when he finally broke, but I was wrong. All he wanted was for me to leave.
I loved him enough to give him the space he needed even though it was breaking my heart.
He didn’t call in the morning like he promised.
***
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.
