Page 53 of Venus
Victoria slides her hand into mine, loosening my fingers around themselves. She didn’t ask or say anything. Just holds my hand.
I don’t react at first. I can’t. My eyes are stuck on that stupid wood box with my friend inside. Maybe if I stare at it long enough, he’ll show up behind me, smack me on the ass and say:“Awwww, did Cooter miss me?”
But he won’t. He can’t.
The chaplain’s voice fades in and out like static. Everyone’s crying. Everyone’s hugging.
But not me. I’m just staring at that box.
Trevor’s mom is the first to approach me. She’s clutching the folded flag tightly to her chest in her small, fragile, shaking hands.
I might as well be a second son to her, and she holds me like it. As soon as my forehead lands on her shoulder, I lose it. Ugly, gross, snotty sobs escape me and I think at this point I’m crying harder than she is.
“Oh, honey,” she whispers, “I know you did everything you could. You were brothers. He wouldn’t want you to cry for him.”
I hear her words, but they don’t register. I want to tell her that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry I can’t go back and switch places with him.
But I can’t, so I just let her hold me while Victoria holds my hand. I crack wide open in front of all of them, and let them see everything I don’t have the strength to say.
When his mom finally lets me go, his dad comes next. Then his sister. Then Captain Rodriguez. Then the community handing out thank-yous I don’t deserve like Halloween candy.
Somewhere in the chaos of grief, I lose my grip on my sanity and walk away from the crowd, hiding behind the mausoleum away from all the eyes and the hugs.
Victoria comes around the corner, rubbing my shoulder with her steady hand.
I wipe my nose with my suit sleeve. “I just need a minute.”
She nods. “I know. It’s okay.”
She lingers close by, close enough for strength, but far enough for space. The only person she lets get closer to me is Jackson, and when I meet his gaze, all those horrible feelings come back to me.
“Why him?” I ask Jacks, as if he could really give me an answer.
“You barely made it out yourself,” Jackson says to me. Steady, but broken like the rest of us. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
“He was always at my back. If I had just let him lead…”
“Then you’d be the one in the casket and he’d be here asking the same question. Carter, man, you were just doing your job. He trusted your judgement and he still would.”
I lean my back against a tree and look to my right. V is watching us, but I can see it in her eyes that it’s not right. Jacks and I are missing a very important part of ourselves.
We all walk back together, joining just in time for the salute. Three sharp cracks fill the air, and I don’t even have the strength to flinch at the sound.
The ride home is silent. V doesn’t force me to say anything. She just holds my hand while she drives.
When we get to my apartment, I panic, ripping and clawing in an attempt to get my crisp uniform off like it’s poisoning my skin. V calms me down enough to help, undressing me like a toddler and sitting me down on the couch.
She squats in front of me and my blank stare, pushing my messy hair away from my red face.
“Talk to me,” she says in a soft tone.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to try and hold it in anymore. Not for me.”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Open it again. Close it again.
Then it all spills out.
