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Beneath the collar of his uniform, I could see the bulge of the dog-tag he always wore. I reached out and touched it gingerly.
“I also wanted to know aboutthis.”
Without a word the big SEAL pulled me with him, past a dozen or so people seated on benches, feeding the pigeons. Together we stepped off the path, climbing upward along a slow rise until we reached a flat spot at the top of a small hill.
It was there we sat down together, sprawling across the cool, bladed grass. Devyn undid his collar and opened it, revealing the serrated form the blackened dog-tag just beneath.
“This belonged to my father,” he said solemnly. “He served too, a long time ago.”
“Oh.”
Devyn’s eyes unfocused. His gaze seemed to settle upon something very far away.
“He died when I was very young. Got killed in an ambush while on a black-ops mission, somewhere in Bosnia.”
Though we were sitting side-by-side with our knees bent, our hands were still touching. I closed mine over his, comfortingly.
“The worst part was he got betrayed by someone within his own cell,” he went on. “Someone who got captured, and gave up his own brothers-in-arms.”
Devyn winced, or maybe squinted into the sun. I realized at that moment he was telling the story to himself as much as me.
“One of the men in the cell ended up killing the traitor,” he finished, “and eventually told me about it when I was old enough.” He tapped the dog-tag. “He gave me this, taken directly from my father’s neck.”
The silence around us seemed abruptly serene. The trees didn’t rustle, the wind didn’t blow — even the sound of the birds was gone.
“Devyn, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he said, forcing a smile. “Happened a long time ago.”
He leaned back on his arms, and I noticed a circle of pink skin at the very base of his neck. The dog-tag was so twisted, so jagged from whatever had happened to his father, it apparently had been digging into his flesh for a long, long time.
Oh wow.
Devyn wasn’t bleeding however. He’d built up enough scar tissue there that it no longer mattered. I could only imagine how many years he’d been wearing it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said solemnly. “But I could never bring myself to file it down or bend it back into shape.” He reached up to touch the relic. “I accepted it exactly as it is. I took the pain and blood as a constant reminder of my father, and what he fought for.”
In the end, he shrugged. “After all these years, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
Twenty-One
JULIANA
I shifted closer to Devyn, as three kids began playing with a frisbee nearby. We watched them in silence for a little bit, before I turned back to face him.
“I completely understand you following in your father’s footsteps,” I said, “even if your family must not have been too happy about it. Especially you being a SEAL and all.”
“You’d be surprised,” he answered quickly. “My mother was actually very understanding when I told her I wanted to enlist. She drove me straight to the recruiter herself.”
I let out a low whistle. “Nowthat’sa strong woman.”
Devyn nodded. “I was raised by strong women,” he agreed. “Between her and my two older sisters, I actually had a very happy childhood.”
I tried to envision him running around the streets of South Brooklyn, living the life of any ordinary child as the years of adolescence went by. Though his story was sad, there was no melancholy about him. He seemed as happy and well-adjusted as anyone else I knew, maybe even more so.
“The trick’s not to live in the past,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Trouble is, most people can’t do that. They’re too busy looking back to enjoy what’s ahead.”
He inhaled deeply for a moment, then stood up and pulled me to my feet. Face to face, his hands remained on mine as our eyes finally locked.
