Page 89 of Stony Point Summer
“To who? I didn’t know you were even seeing anyone.”
A smile comes then; Neil can’t seem to stop it. “Oh, I am. I’m marrying Lauren Smith.”
“Lauren? Wait.” The father squints at Neil.
“I know. You’re thinking she’s with Kyle. But she’s not. Or, she won’t be.”
“I’ll be damned,” his father says as he starts walking again. “Now something’s making sense. I was helping Jason at your flip cottage yesterday, ripping out kitchen cabinets. Early in the morning, before your brother even got there, Lauren knocked at the door.”
“Are youkidding?”
“No. She called out your name and was surprised to see me instead. She got flustered asking if you were around. I figured it was something about the wedding. I mean, her wedding toKyle. Isn’t Jason the best man?”
“Not anymore.” Neil takes a long breath. “Guess he’ll be mine now.”
The father looks closely at Neil. “Are you serious?” But anyone can see his son’s made up his mind. There’s a resolve in his stance.
Neil nods as they walk side by side. “I’ve been seeing Lauren for months.”
And as the two men continue on to the eleven-foot granite monument, then cross the lawn to the harbor beyond, Neil empties his heart. He just lets it all out, from falling in love with Lauren over morning seaside talks, to walking with her on Little Beach, to sneaking away to be together, unseen.
“I haven’t asked her to marry me yet,” Neil says when the two men stop at a stone embankment overlooking the Sound. “But I will, after the dust settles.”
“Dust?”
“She’ll be breaking up with Kyle anytime now. If she hasn’t already.”
“Oh, Neil.” His father shakes his head. “Lauren didn’t look too happy yesterday. You sure about all this, son?”
“Never more so.” Neil steps closer to the rocks and runs a hand through his windblown hair. “I’m going to make a life with Lauren, in Stony Point. Eventually. Like you and Mom did. Breathe that salt air, let it be a part of our days,” Neil says, turning to his father now. “Problem is, I’m going to lose a brother in the process.”
“Kyle.”
Neil nods. “Not arealbrother, but … acomrade. In what feels like a hell of a battle coming.”
His father sits there on the lawn and draws up his knees. He plucks a blade of grass and fiddles with it. “You’ve been friends with Kyle all your life. Since you and Jason played with him and his brother in the marsh. With those toy boats.”
“Yep. And that’s why I called you, Dad. Youlostbrothers on the field, in the jungle. You ended lives. Enemy lives.” As he says it, Neil nods toward the Vietnam War monument. “And you’ve learned how to live with that.”
“I have.”
“How, though? Because itfeelslike I’ll be ending part of Kyle’s life, once Lauren leaves him. So what makes it easier?”
“Easier? No one ever said it’seasy.” Neil’s father stands and walks closer to the harbor. The water is calm; pleasure boats are moored there. “What you do is you make things livable. So that you can just breathe. In and out. Every day. You go to work. You cut the grass and wash the car. You have dinner. Sleep. You go on.” He looks over at his son. “But Ineversaid it’s easy to live with choices.” He motions to Neil then. “Come here. Maybe this is the only answer I can give you.”
With that, the man walks toward the massive granite monument. But he keeps going, right past that eleven-foot-tall black letter V. He takes one step on the long pathway before it, then another, with Neil silent beside him. They don’t stop until reaching a large plaque embedded at the very start of the sidewalk.
“I see how much you love Lauren. You wouldn’t be this bothered otherwise,” the older man says, “with the fallout of what you’re about to do. The hill you’re about to conquer. The combat about to ensue.”
Neil says nothing. He just stands there, watching his father.
“We all choose a path in life. A path we live with. Most of them? Most arenoteasy.” His father draws a hand along his jaw. “Your path will have its own coordinates. Its own destination. Its own fallen brothers.” He pauses then, and lifts a gray chain off his neck. Two battle-scarred dog tags hang from it. Taking his son’s hand, he drops the necklace into his palm. “You wear these for now. Maybe it’ll help you through.”
“Dad.”
His father shakes his head, then moves closer to the plaque at their feet. It’s set dead center in that sidewalk leading in a straight line to the granite war monument. Pointing to the plaque, he tells Neil, “Thatwas my path, son. And you’ve got yours now,” he says before clasping Neil’s shoulder, then walking away.
Neil watches him go. After a few moments, he turns back to the plaque. Crouching low, he brushes some sand off it and reads the raised lettering.
