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“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my journal and pen before plopping down on mine as well. At this point, we’ve been here for six months. My time here is halfway over. Clayton’s not so much.
Six more months until I can see her. I open my journal to write that same sentiment when there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Clayton calls out.
Peter steps into the room, holding a large box. “Something came in the mail today,” he says in a high-pitched voice before laughing at his own antics. “This one is addressed to both of you.”
“Raven,” Clayton and I say at the same time.
“This Raven must be special.” He looks back and forth between the two of us. “I don’t want to know.” He shakes his head.
“Raven is my best friend.”
“I thought he held that title?” Peter points at Clayton.
“He does,” I say at the same time Clayton says, “I do.”
“What is she to you?” Peter asks, confusion marring his features.
“Raven is… everything,” Clayton admits.
“So she’s your best friend and your everything?” Peter clarifies.
“We’ve all been close for years,” I explain.
“Well, she sent you both something. My guess is a little bit of home.” He sets the box on the foot of Clayton’s bed. “I’ll leave you to it. Great job today,” he says before disappearing out the door.
“That’s a big box,” I say, staring at it.
“It’s for both of us.” Clayton confirms what Peter said, looking at the label.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s see what she sent.” It’s December, the week before Christmas, and I’m missing home. I miss my parents, I miss the farm, the feed mill, our friends, and I miss Riley with a ferocity I never knew was possible.
“Let’s see,” Clay says, pulling the knife out of his pocket and slicing through the packing tape. He puts his knife back into his pocket before pulling out an envelope with both our names on it. He holds it up to show me.
“Keep digging.” I nod toward the box. If I know my best friend, there are some treats in that box. I’m not much of a junk food junkie, but after six months of being here, I’ve come to appreciate it.
“Cookies, crackers, chocolate,” he says, holding up each item. “There is two of everything.”
“Of course there is. This is Raven we’re talking about. She spoils us.” I don’t mention that I expected the same from Riley, but that’s before our night together, before she ran out on me.
“Chips, gum, hard candy, nuts, and beef jerky,” he says, pulling the rest of the items out of the box.
“And the envelope?” I’m desperate to see if she mentions Riley.
“And this.” He digs through the haul on his bed and pulls the envelope out from underneath.
“Read it.” He nods and tears into the envelope. Something falls out, but I can’t tell what it is from here.
Hey, guys!
Merry Christmas. I hope that this reaches you in time. I miss you both something terrible. There have been a lot of changes since the two of you have been gone. Well, not a lot of changes. It’s just weird not having the gang all together. Yes, I said gang, and I don’t care that Riley says that makes us sound like a real gang. In a way, we are.
Anyway, I have the best news. Guess what I’m getting for Christmas? Are you ready? A nephew! Yes, you read that right. I’m going to be an aunt. I hadn’t told you before now, because she didn’t know what she was having, but we found out a couple of weeks ago. It’s a boy. I’m so excited.
I know you’re both big brothers, just like Bruce, Jacob, and Brett, so let me assure you she’s doing well. The guys have been stopping by and checking on her. The sperm donor isn’t in the picture. He doesn’t want to be in his child’s life, but that’s okay. Riley is strong, and she has us. We will be her support system.
I’m off to shop for my nephew. Yes, I know there are still several months until he arrives, but I can’t seem to help myself. I hope you’re both doing well and staying safe. I miss you both.
Love,
Raven
I can’t breathe.
My heart stalls in my chest.
Riley.
Pregnant.
I’m staring off into space, Raven’s words from her letter replaying in my mind. A nephew. My Riley. She’s pregnant. Lifting my hand, I rub the ache in my chest, willing it to go away. It’s still there. Nothing helps. My lungs burn as I struggle to pull in oxygen.
“Hudson.”
I can hear Clayton calling my name, but I don’t acknowledge him. I can’t. I need to process this. I need to “Fuck!” I roar.
“Tell me what you need, man?” Clayton sounds desperate.
“I have to go.”
“Go? Where?”
“Out. I just… I need air. I have to go.” With the journal still gripped in my hand, I climb off the bed and rush out the door. I faintly hear him calling after me, but my blood is whooshing in my ears, so his efforts are muffled at best. I take off running. I don’t know where I’m going. It’s late, and the sun is setting. I know I shouldn’t be out alone, but I need space. I need the open air to process this.
