Page 24 of Sol
Holding my hands, and looking straight into my eyes, sitting on my couch in my apartment in Granada, Spain, on Earth, in this Universe, Trent said unflinchingly, “Less than two weeks ago, Degan died while our unit was on patrol in the Korengal Valley inAfghanistan.”
No, I screamed inside, but Trent continued on, determined andmerciless.
“A roadside bomb detonated as we passed by. He threw himself on me and also saved another soldier in our company by shoving him out of the way. Degan shielded us from the bomb, and received the full force of the trauma. He died almost immediately from his injuries. It was three days before we were due to fly back to the United States to bedischarged.”
“No,” I said out loud, shaking my head. “No. You’re wrong. You’re lying to me. Degan’s not dead. He’s…He’s on his way to Spain to visit, I’m sure. Or maybe he’s going back to California. But he didn’t die by some fucking roadside bomb in the MiddleEast.”
“Dani,” Trent said, scooting closer, “he did. The military funeral was days ago.” Agonizing tears pooled in his eyes. Those huge, blue eyes, rimmed with long, curly lashes, seemed twice as big as normal. “I loved him, you know? He was my best friend. For life. And now he’sgone.”
I threw his hands down, stood up, and paced in front ofhim.
“My brother did not disappear from this earth,okay.He’s here.” I pointed to the ground, then around with a swirlingmotion.
Wiping his eyes with the back of his well-built hands, Trent murmured, “I wish there was a way of telling you where I could’ve numbed the pain. But there isn’t. You just had to know thetruth.”
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself, not sayinganything.
“I’m gonna let you process this, but know I’m gonna give you anything you need.Anything.”
“I don’t need anything. I’mfine.”
“You aren’t fine, babe, and neither am I. You’re in shock from the news. So am I, frankly. I’m gonna let you ride itout.”
“I’m not in shock,” I said. “It’sfine.”
His eyes first registered disbelief, and then sympathy. “He wanted me to give you this letter.” Trent pulled out a dirty, rumpled envelope from his backpocket.
Scrawled on the front, in Degan’s recognizable all-caps lettering, was my name. He reached over and tried to hand it tome.
I recoiled fromit.
“What is this?” Iasked.
“When we were in boot camp, we each wrote a letter that we would give people if we died. I carried his letter, and he carried mine. Since he died, I’m giving you his letter that he wrote to you. I don’t know what it says. He never showed me.” He held it out to meagain.
I took the letter and set it down on the table by the T.V. “I can’t open that right now,” Iwhispered.
“I know. It’s okay. What do you need? You can see why we needed to leave school totalk.”
I nodded, distracted, not processing. “Yeah,thanks.”
And then it hitme.
My baby brother. The one who followed me around my entire life. The tan kid with blue eyes and stocky legs and pokey-outie hair. The one who’d call room service and order cold cereal when we went traveling with ourparents.
Thatguy.
Thatkid.
Wasgone.
No more emails forwarding me articles about things the cat literally dragged in. No more Christmases where we went to the beach and did handstands, then ran so fast into the cold, cold Pacific that our feet almost burned with the frigid salt water. No more hiking in Muir Woods and stopping for pizza afterward. No more sitting together watchingTheSimpsons.
No more boxes and boxes of CocoaPuffs.
The army had stolen him from me. The kid who wanted everyone to get along. Who was a little shy, but who wouldn’t let new kids eat by themselves atlunchtime.
Thatkid.
