Page 66 of Dangers of Love

I’d thought I’d been getting through to her, convincing her that she could find much safer places to work, and then she’d mentioned the school shootings that had been happening for more than twenty years. One more thing to worry about. One more way to have her and the baby taken from me.

I’d been in elementary school when the Columbine shooting occurred, but my older siblings had been in junior high and high school, old enough that it’d been all they’d talked about for days. There had been more since then. Little kids too. Teachers. Some bad enough that I’d heard about them in war zones.

My chest tightened, and my vision narrowed. Every picture and news story I’d seen, even ones I hadn’t realized I could remember, came flooding into my mind, tangling up with everything else.

Kids running out of their school with their hands in the air. Flags being lowered to half-mast. Crime scene tape around a parking lot. Police cars with lights flashing and a parade of names and faces. The sound of gunfire and the smell of dirt and death.

It occurred to me that I needed to sit down, but then I realized I already was sitting. I didn’t remember doing it. I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands, focusing on breathing, focused on keeping my panic attack from becoming a full-blown PTSD flashback.

When this happened before, I’d think about Aline, and her face and smile grounded me, but thinking about her now just brought up all the fears of what could happen to her.

A knock on the door made me jump, but at least I recognized the sound for what it was and not as an explosion or gunshot. Knowing that I hadn’t completely disappeared from reality help me steady myself enough to get up and go to the door. Part of me wondered if it was Aline. If she’d forgotten her keys, she’d have to knock or ring the doorbell.

It wasn’t Aline, though. It was a young guy in a brown uniform. “Eoin McCrae?”

He massacred the pronunciation of my name, but I didn’t bother to correct him. No one who ever saw it said it right the first time.

“That’s me.”

He handed over the package, his gaze fixed on my face. He was still staring when I turned around and closed the door. I figured my rudeness balanced out his.

I went to toss the box on the counter, not really caring what was inside, but then I saw the return address.

Israel McCormack.

Leo’s dad had sent me something.

If anything was going to get my mind off of the shit that’d just happened, it’d be something from Israel and Nana Naz. Sure, it’d make me think about Leo, but I’d take that over my head spinning out over Aline walking out.

Another box was inside the plain cardboard box, but on this one was a card with my name on it. In Leo’s handwriting. When I flipped it over to open it, my fingers were shaking. A different hand had written a brief message on the back of the envelope.

I found this in the last box of Leo’s things. I don’t know what’s in the box or in the card, but I think it was a birthday present. It’s a little late for that, but that’s not important. I know this year hasn’t been a good one, but I hope that this will bring some form of closure so you can go into the new year with hope and a new outlook. Love you, son.

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat didn’t go away. A part of me wanted to put the card away, unopened, put the box in a closet, and pretend that I hadn’t gotten it. Not that I’d be able to pretend that Leo was still alive, but Israel had talked about closure, and that wasn’t something I felt like I wanted.

Or deserved.

But I opened the card, anyway.

It was a birthday card with the sort of corny joke that Leo had always loved. And there, right under the punch line, was a message from my best friend.

Creeping up on thirty now, old man. Hard to believe we’ve been friends for more than two decades. Here’s hoping for a few more, brother.

“Fuck.” The word cracked as I said it.

I sat down before reaching for my gift. My pulse pounded as if I was running a marathon, but I wasn’t going to back off now. I forced myself to take off the wrapping paper and then opened the box. I braced myself for what was inside, but there was no way I could’ve prepared myself for this.

It was a book.

Not a big one. Probably the size of one of those little kid books Evanne had had five years ago, but the picture on the front wasn’t some Dr. Suess craziness or whatever.

It was a picture of my mom and me on the day I’d been born.

I opened it and found another note from Leo inside.

I know you don’t remember your mom, so I put together some memories for you.

Each page had a memory from someone in my family. Alec. Brody. The twins. Extended family from back in Scotland who I hadn’t seen in years.

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