Page 41 of The Strawberry Field
“It was strange, though. He didn’t seem afraid of me. It was like he was trying to tell me something.”
Jake turns slightly toward me.“I get that. Living out here, I’ve felt it too. A kind of understanding between us and the animals. Like we’re sharing space that doesn’t really belong to either of us.”
I nod.“This house. The land. It all feels temporary now. When I was younger, it felt like forever. Like if we owned something, we’d outlast it. But that’s never really true, is it?”
“No,” Jake says quietly.“I think it’s not about how long we’re here. It’s about what we do with the time we are.”
I glance at him, startled by how much that echoes what I’ve been struggling to name.“I used to think I had that part figured out. My job, my purpose. It all made sense—until it didn’t.”
“Will you go back?” he asks gently.
“No,” I say without hesitation.“I can’t. I used to feel alive doing that work. Now it just feels… broken. Like I was fooling myself all along.”
Jake reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder.“No one would have tried harder than you.”
The words hit something deep. I look away, biting the inside of my cheek.
“I didn’t sign up for a war, Jake. But that’s what it became. Except the enemy was invisible. And relentless. And it always won. I left. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t keep watching people die.”
“Sometimes, we do everything we can, and it’s still not enough. That doesn’t mean we failed.”
“But what if there is no next?” I whisper.“What if I’m just… done?”
Jake is quiet for a moment. Then,“Sometimes the hardest part is waiting for the next thing to show up. We expect it to arrive right away, but it rarely does.”
I glance at him.“How do you know that?”
He takes a slow sip of wine.“Have you ever looked me up online?”
I blink.“No. I thought about it. But maybe I didn’t want to know what happened to you. Maybe I wanted to remember you as you were.”
Jake studies me, then, after a long pause, says softly, “You could. If you want. And then I’ll tell you everything. Tomorrow. Just know it might change how you see me.”
I nod slowly, unsettled by his tone. There’s something in it I don’t recognize. Something heavier than he’s let me see before.
He finishes his wine and sets the glass on the railing.“Thanks for the drink. If you see the coyote again, give me a call.”
“I will. And… thank you. For coming over.”
“Goodnight, Sawyer.”
I stand at the door and watch him walk to his truck. I listen to the engine hum as it rolls down the driveway. The house feels hollow once he’s gone. Like something real just left it.
Inside, I set my glass in the sink and rummage for something to eat. My stomach growls, surprising me. I haven’t felt hunger in days, but I make crackers with peanut butter and eat them standing at the counter.
It tastes like nourishment.
Like life.
Like maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought.
Later, in bed, I glance at the laptop. Jake’s challenge lingers in my mind.
I sit down, prop pillows behind me, and type his name into the search bar.
What I find shocks me.
The headlines. The articles. The accusation. The resignation. The swirl of speculation.
