Page 70 of The Art of Dying

“Right behind you, sir,” I said, following him into the hut.

We sat with our backs against the walls, and about the time we could hear the helo in the distance, the villagers began singing a somber song. It filled the air and surrounded us. I know it was meant to be comforting, but all I could think about was how much the world was going to suck without Matt. The grave tone, the low, almost hollow notes of their song was a foreshadowing of how empty our lives would be without him.

I knew Trex, Sloan, Martinez, and Harbinger had the same thoughts, what it was going to be like without part of our family, who would break the news to Naomi, and what she’d do. If she’d hate us, or if she’d understand.

Once the helo arrived, Trex—despite his injury—picked up Matt and carried him over his shoulder without even a grunt. We loaded Matt’s body and then Gibby’s before climbing in, and the helo lifted off, the village Matt died to save getting smaller and smaller as we flew away.

Trex held Matt in his arms, rocking back and forth with the movement of the helo, his face emotionless. Most people would offer each other comfort, but there was no comfort in this. There was nothing that would make Trex feel better about Matt dying on his watch. The ride home would be long, the arrival anything but a celebration. We all knew it, we all dreaded it, and it wasn’t even the worst part. The real heartbreak was that there would be no news story, no headlines, no flags at half-mast. The world would keep turning. People would go to work, pick up their kids from school, fight about politics online, all while having no idea we’d just lost the best of us.

• • •

I leaned down to look out the window as our plane came to a slow stop. Mack and Caroline flanked Naomi, all wearing black with big, dark sunglasses as they waited for us to deplane. This time, there would be no relief, no smiles. The kids were left with the neighbor. This time, we’d stand together, holding Naomi while they carefully rolled her husband’s flag-draped coffin from the plane.

Trex approached her first. There were no words, but she immediately hugged him. They stayed in that embrace for a while. Once she let Trex go, she kissed my cheek and then Martinez, Harbinger, and Sloan’s.

Mack stood behind me, placing her hand on my back to let me know she was there. We’d never spoken about what we’d do if one of us didn’t come back, how it would be respectful not to greet each other as usual, but I wasn’t surprised she understood.

When it was time, Naomi walked alone, stopping in front of the coffin. She stared at it for a long time before flattening her left palm against the wood. One of the officers spoke words we couldn’t hear, she nodded and then he stepped away, leaving her to be alone with Matt for a few minutes. Naomi didn’t move, keeping her hand in place. Her sunglasses were so dark I couldn’t see anything but her body language, but if she needed to stand there for a week, so would we. After fifteen minutes, she finally put the other hand next to the first, her head tilted and then she leaned in, pressing her cheek against the coffin, turning her head away. Her shoulders were trembling with her cries.

After several minutes, she caught her breath and then stood, touching the back of her hand to the tip of her nose. She walked toward us, and we broke away from where we stood, rushing to meet her halfway, surrounding her with love. That’s where she lost it. Her knees buckled, but Trex and I supported her weight, walking with her all the way to the car.

Mack and Caroline climbed into the back seat of the SUV with her, and I held the door open, staring down at my wife.

“We’ll be there shortly,” I said.

Mack nodded, subdued anguish in her eyes. I wanted to kiss her, but out of respect for Naomi, I didn’t. I just mouthed the wordsI love youand then closed the door, watching the driver pull away from the curb.

chapter nineteen.

Mack

“Water? Whiskey?” I asked.

Naomi shook her head as she settled into Matt’s recliner. She hugged her knee to her chest and stared at the floor. It was too quiet, and it made me want to crawl out of my skin, but what mattered was what Naomi needed in that moment, and she just needed the world to be silent and stand still while her life spun out of control. Usually, their home was full of noises, music coming from their surround sound speakers Kitsch had helped Matt install when they moved in, Naomi laughing at something her husband had done, friends chatting. But today, today it felt like we’d all fallen to the bottom of the hole Matt’s absence had left.

I kept waiting for Naomi to cry, or scream, or vent, but she just sat, rocking the recliner gently.

The sound of an engine signaled a truck had parked in the drive. Less than a minute after it shut off, Kitsch, Trex, Harbinger, Martinez, and Sloan filed in, standing around just long enough to get a sense of where Naomi was at emotionally. Then, they took to preparing the meat they’d brought to grill. Not once did they ask us to join them in the kitchen, instead leaving Caroline and me to be there for Naomi when the time came, and we all knew it would.

“Babe,” Kitsch whispered in my ear. “The kids set up for a while?”

I nodded.

Naomi joined us at the table when the food was ready. She loaded her plate but only picked at her food—like the rest of us. She’d nod when appropriate, and when we finished, she returned to Matt’s recliner.

The men cleaned up and then joined us, all of them finding spots on the rug.

Unlike Caroline and me, the men couldn’t stand the silence for long.

“Do you… do you have any questions, Nomes?”

She blinked, as if her name brought her back to reality. “Tell me,” she said simply.

Trex waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he cleared his throat. “You know I can’t give details.”

“Tell me what you can,” she said.

Trex looked to his men and then seemed to think about how he would word the answer. “There was a grenade. We didn’t have time to clear the room, so he… he…”

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