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I began again, “I wish I could tell you all what Degan was really like.” In the crowd, my mom’s eyes locked with mine, shining, but encouraging me to talk. “He was the best friend I ever had. When we were little, we would play UNO, and he had all these crazy house rules. Like if you put a Draw Two down, you could trump it with another Draw Two, so the person had to draw four. But he’d put down a ton of them at a time, so it would end up, like Draw Twenty-Two. No one would ever win, we’d just have to keep drawingcards.”
God, I’m babbling. I’d written down what I wanted to say on a card, but when I pulled it out, it seemed allwrong.
“But the thing was, he really didn’t want to spite you. He just wanted to keep playing. He was the kind of guy who in the mess hall would never let anyone sit by themselves. Kind of annoying, really. But he’d reach out, make sure that you were doing okay. He’d make a triple decker peanut butter sandwich and share it. Anything to get you to know you weren’t alone.” I scanned my index card. I hadn’t said anything I planned. Oh well. “I don’t know what else to say. Degan died so I could live. He’s a realhero.”
Unlike me.I’m nohero.
“But more than that, Degan died soour countrycould live. We talk about peace and freedom. He really believed in it. He believed in protecting it. He staked his life on it. He believed in being a soldier, in the discipline and sacrifice, but he always did it with a smile. He took joy in serving others. Honestly, the only thing I think he ever did for himself was eat too much coldcereal.”
I got a fewchuckles.
“But if you want to know the meaning of a true soldier, one who lived by his code and died by it, you don’t have to look any farther than DeganAnderson.”
I was so grateful I’d already told Degan everything I wanted to tell him on that street in Afghanistan, because my words now weren’tenough.
When the ceremony was over, I approached the coffin of my best friend. Placing my hand on it, I whispered, “It’s okay, buddy. I gother.”
With seven others, I helped carry the coffin out to the hearse. It was surprisingly light. Or maybe I’d gottenstronger.
My parents and I followed the procession to the cemetery and sat in white chairs, while the coffin wasreadied.
Boom.Boom.Boom.
I startled, sweating, reaching for a gun in my nonexistent holster toreact.
Keep it together, Milner. No one’s being shot at. This is just to honorDegan.
Fuck, I’d forgotten about the gun salute. Sweat dripped into mycollar.
At the end of the service, I walked up on the wet grass, slightly sinking into the ground because of last night’s sprinklers. Someone handed me the flag, folded, which had been draped on Degan’s coffin. I set my hand on the wood as it was lowered into the ground. Then I turned and hurried out, my heartheavy.
That night I cried myself tosleep.
* * *
The next day,a beam of sunlight sidestepped through the small shower window up high at my parents’ house and smacked me in the face while my mindraced.
Soap bubbles popped on my thigh as hot water streamed down my body. Propping myself against the tiled wall, I grasped the handheld nozzle, and aimed the spray at the top of my head, then my tight shoulders, rinsing off, relieving the tension from my six mile run this morning, but not from mymind.
Working my way down my body, top to bottom, left to right, I scrubbed each part five times. Not four. Not six.Five. In the proper order. That way, my shower would take precisely three and a half minutes, and I could get on with myday.
(Unless I got distracted by thoughts of her, then it tooklonger.)
Today, no distractions. I needed todosomething.
Someone had to tell Danika Anderson that her brother haddied.
But I didn’t know where to go from here. She’d been blowing like a fall leaf in the wind for so long now. I knew from Degan that one month she was building schools in Uruguay, then I’d learn she was teaching English in Peru. The less technology, the happier she was. She’d send him a message every month or so, telling him of problems with SIM cards, Wi-Fi, and cell reception. Adding technical difficulties of traveling around the world to her natural slacker attitude about keeping in touch, and I was trapped in a Bermuda Triangle with nocommunication.
I hustled back to my old room in my towel, dressed, sat down at my old desk, andexhaled.
In boot camp, Degan and I had filled out powers of attorney, medical forms, and all kinds of other important papers, which were now in a file on my desk next to my laptop. We also prepared two letters in case something should happen to us. He wrote his to Dani, and I carried it. I wrote mine to, uh, Dani, and he carried it. They were sealed, with no stamps. No return addresses. Now I had them both. I set them out in front ofme.
After we wrote them, and I handed mine to Degan, when he saw who I’d written on the envelope, he’d crowed, “Iknewit! Dude, I knew it all along! I knew you had the hots for mysister.”
“Shut it, douche,” I’d said good-naturedly.
But the huge grin on his face turned serious as he held the letter. “God, this sucks. If you die, that’s the only way she’s gonna know that you likeher?”
