Page 52 of To the Moon and Back
• • •
HE’D ALWAYS THOUGHT of them as part of a club. The wanderers who made it to the memorial every April 19. The ones who walked along the chain-link fence alone and without words of any kind. All of them had lost someone.
Brady never asked who, never talked to anyone at the memorial. Even when he saw the same people year after year. He never spoke to a single person until 2007.
The year he met Jenna.
He was reading the offerings left on the fence when he spotted her. Golden dark red hair, beautiful green eyes. A face that took his breath even with the sorrow written into her expression. He was about to walk by, wouldn’t have interrupted her moment.
But just as he was about to miss her, their eyes met.
They exchanged names, and he showed her his arms. Proof he’d been in the building that terrible day. At one point he asked her to feel his scars. She did, and her touch was the softest thing he’d ever felt.
He could still feel her fingers against his skin.
She had no reason to trust him, but a connection happened between them. They spent an hour at the Survivor Tree, and all the while he could feel himself drawn to her. And his attraction gradually turned into something deeper.
She told her story and when she finished, when they realized they had been only a couple of five-year-olds when the bomb went off, Brady had reached for her hand. And for the first time in all his life he felt something he’d never felt before.
He felt complete.
Her hand was made for his, and gently he ran his thumb along her fingers. For a minute or so he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to ruin the quiet understanding between them. Like they were both still just two kids missing their parents.
Jenna’s expression was different than any Brady had ever seen. And somewhere along the course of the day, Brady knew what it was. Empathy. The empathy he had missed every day since. Jenna’s eyes held a kindness and understanding, the sort that could only come from someone who had been through it. She was another grown-up five-year-old who had lost everything that April morning.
As the day played out, the weather changed. It grew colder and they took a walk. All the while Brady wanted just one thing: for the day to never end. One of the best parts of their time together was the conversation they had before they walked to the coffee shop across the street from the memorial. They agreed that people talked about the bombing like it happened to the city.
When really it happened to the two of them.
Personally.
Then they got deeper still. Jenna admitted how she used to imagine that her parents were traveling somewhere far, far away and one day they would walk through the door and they could all be together again. Brady admitted that he had thought something similar. They talked about how they used to pray that God would return their parents, that life might miraculously find its way back to what it once had been.
Before the bombing.
That’s when they discovered something else they had in common. One more connection. Both their mothers had come to their rooms every night and said the words “Love you to the moon and back.”
After that he was hooked. He might only have been seventeen, but he knew he wanted Jenna in his life as long as he lived.
Then Brady shared something else he hadn’t shared with anyone before. He told her about his disconnect with God. Jenna felt the same. She said she was frustrated with God. Why would He take her parents?
Brady would never forget the walk back to the memorial. The wind was in full force and he took her hand again. When he eased his fingers between hers, the feeling sent chills down his arms and legs. She looked just like Emma Stone, only prettier. Jenna was definitely prettier.
Brady couldn’t remember everything else they talked about. But he would remember the feel of her hand in his as long as he lived. Finally the clouds had broken open and it started pouring. They ran into the museum to get out of the rain and there they found their way to the picture.
The one before the bomb went off.
They talked about how Brady and his mom could’ve run errands another day, and maybe her parents might’ve stayed home from work that April 19.
And then it was time for Jenna to go.
Brady still held her hand, still had his fingers between hers. They swapped numbers and he promised he would call. He had to call. He was sure he would.
No one had ever connected with his soul the way Jenna had.
They promised at least to talk when the next anniversary came around. But then Jenna smiled at him. “A year is a long time.”
“A week’s a long time.” They were standing so close. He wanted to kiss her, but it wasn’t the time. He stared at her number. “I’ll call you soon. It’d be nice to get to know you.” He felt his smile drop off. “Outside the club, I mean.”
