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“A house fire, in my childhood home.”
The call had come when I’d returned from the field, deep into what would be my second tour. The news was already more than three weeks old. Any window of opportunity to do something — not that there was anything, really — had been long since closed.
“Apparently the flames burned hard and fast,” I choked. “My mother, my father, my little brother… they all died that same night. My sister lasted a little longer, maybe a day or so. But not much.”
Brynne’s eyes were full of sorrow, but that was it. There was no unwanted pity. No displaced remorse.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” was all she said.
She reached out to hold me, and in that moment I could only stare at her. Silently I marveled at how beautiful she was. Even in the darkness she was absolutely radiant.
“I raged hard at first,” I went on. “Pretty much destroyed everything within arm’s reach. In the end though, there was nothing to be done. There was no property to lay claim to, no bodies to even bury. I could’ve held a funeral upon returning I guess, but would it even matter? Any mourning of friends and family would be long since over.” I laughed bitterly. “I missed that too.”
Brynne squeezed me reassuringly. But she said nothing.
“I remember feeling resentful, even at them,” I murmured. “At least they’dbeenthere. They’d been able to say a proper goodbye. But me, well… I was on the other side of the world. My home was burning, my family dying, and I was this asshole belly-crawling his way through jungles when I should’ve been there to—”
“You couldn’t have helped,” Brynne cut in sharply. “You said it yourself, the fire burned hot and fast, and the whole thing happened at night. If you’d been there too, you’d only be dead. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
Her words sunk in slowly. She’d meant well by them, I knew.
“By the time I got back I was past all the anger, past the denial,” I finished. “I went back to where the house should’ve been, and that was the worst part of all.”
I could recall the day, the time, the exact temperature and weather. I could smell the asphalt of my street, baking in the sun. It smelled like childhood.
Damn.
Where my childhood home had once stood, there was nothing but an empty, vacant lot. Even the ashes were gone.
“I felt…” I tried to explain. “I felt…”
“Robbed,” Brynne finished for me.
I swung my head to look at her. Solemnly, I nodded.
“You felt totally numb by then,” she guessed, and guessed correctly. “And then you felt guilty aboutthattoo, because instead of feeling pain or sorrow or remorse, you felt nothing.”
“Yes.”
Somehow she’d captured the essence of my emotional state at the time. It wasexactlylike that.
“The shrink they forced me to see tried telling me it was survivor’s guilt,” I added, “but it’s not like that at all. It’s—”
“It’s the guilt of somehow being shielded from the pain,” Brynne said. “Of seeing everything you loved erased from the earth all at once, and not feeling anything.”
I nodded again and looked back at her. Her eyes were soft. Full of silent understanding.
“My parents are gone too,” she said softly. She looked away for a moment. “Evan might be a total fuckup, but my brother is all the family I have.”
“ThatI understand,” I told her gravely. “After the fire I was lost for a while. I did anything, went anywhere. I took on the most dangerous assignments, not even caring what happened to me.”
“Andthenwhat happened to you?” she smiled gently, as if she knew the answer.
God, she was perfect. Beautifulandcaring. Wise with understanding.
“I got separated from my unit while in Sudan,” I told her. “Had to make the choice between crossing a river and getting shelled by mortar fire.”
“That doesn’t seem like much of a decision at all.”
