Turning around, Brett locked his eyes on a dark-skinned black woman, holding a handful of books in her arms.
Quickly, he boxed all of his drama up. “I’m looking for books on…divorce,” he said in a deep baritone, looking down at Cameron. He knew that Cameron had no idea what the word meant, still he was leery of using it in front of him for fear that he might repeat it.
“Oh,” the woman said, walking past him over to the corner of the room. Her perfume wafted up to his nose. “You need to look over here,” she said, placing her pile of books on the table in front of the bookshelf.
Tied in a pink bow, her long ebony hair was pulled off her deep brown face in a delicate ponytail. In a pink button down, starched and tucked in perfectly to dark jeans that fit her wide hips and short legs, she seemed overtly gentle and feminine to him. And it wasn’t that he was trying to notice her; it was simply that her presence commanded it, even in his current chaotic state.
With hazel-colored eyes, she turned and peaked back at him with a gentle smile that showed the deep dimples in her oval face as she flipped through the books. Her manicured nails caressed the books gracefully as she turned back to pull a few from the shelf. “I’m not sure which ones you need, but these should help.”
Brett watched her every graceful movement. She regarded the books like she was the mistress of literature, pursing her lip as she thoughtfully pulled each one from the sea of hardbacks in front of her.
Pulling out a black, leather-bound book, she reached out and passed them to him, brushing his hand as she did so. The touch made him feel uncomfortable, like he had touched something sacred, something he had no right to feel.
The woman looked down at Cameron with raised brows, interested in the rosy-cheeked boy. Bending down, she ran her hand over Cameron’s curly brown locks. Her gentle voice was like silk against Brett’s ears. “You know, we’re having reading time right now over in the center. Why don’t I take you over and introduce you to the other kids, while your father looks for what he needs.” She looked back up at Brett for his approval.
Brett would normally not trust anyone with his son, but the lady seemed warm and nurturing, unlike his blood-sucking wife. Plus, he needed a minute alone to gather his thoughts, box up his frustrations and make a plan that didn’t involve a shot gun and a k-bar.
“That would be great. Thanks,” Brett said, clearing his throat. His face suddenly warmed, showing his gratitude through the sudden rush of color to his peaked features.
She nodded at him and took Cameron’s hand. As she passed quietly, he caught another whiff of her perfume. It smelled of roses, like the ones he wanted to buy Amy the night before. The thought made his stomach cramp.
Left alone for the moment, he took the book and sat down at the table with his pen and notepad. The room smelled like books. Ink, a bit of dust and supreme knowledge radiated through the small place as the sun beamed in through the elevated windows.
“Do you need anything else?” the woman asked, walking back into the room to collect the books that she had left after she had squared away Cameron.
Brett looked up at her. “No, ma’am,” he said, hitting his pen on the table. “Are there more books on divorce out there?” For a moment, he was able to take his focus off of Amy, distracted by her striking beauty.
The woman paused, looking deep into his blue eyes. “Everything you need is in this room,” she said, piling the books in her embrace again.
If only that were true, he thought to himself. Brett smirked at her statement then tucked in his chin and focused on the book in front of him.
“I’m Courtney by the way,” she said as she got to the threshold of the door. “Just in case you need anything.”
Brett looked up at her and nodded. “I’m Brett,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t believe that he could even muster such a thing in the state that he was in, but she sort of pulled it out of him. The idea stalled him. Maybe there was life after Amy.
As if reading his mind, she smiled. The innocent gesture was so provocative to him that he was forced to turn to face her. “Nice to meet you, Brett,” Courtney said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Your son is in the play center. I’ll keep an eye on him until you’re done.”
“Thanks,” Brett said, trying not to blatantly stare at her. “I shouldn’t be too long. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
“Seek and ye shall find,” she whispered as she closed the door.
He quickly turned his head back to the book. Why couldn’t he have run into a woman like that instead of a man-eater?
An hour turned to three hours, and before Brett knew it, the library was closing. With Cameron sitting across from him drawing on a piece of paper, he stapled his notes together and yawned. He had a few options in front of him, first to file abandonment, and secondly to notify his chain-of-command. In court, she wouldn’t stand a chance, but he still had to figure out what to do about his son.
He had never handled childcare before. Normally, Amy stayed at home with Cameron unless she sent him to
Mom’s Day Out
at the local church. Now, he had to figure out if he could get Cameron onto a list for emergency care. Unfortunately to do so, he would have to get the Marine Corps involved in his marriage. That was typically a no-no. No one discussed home and never let it affect the job. In fact, the guys who did have to have the Marine Corps help manage their families would often be looked down upon, but how much further down could he go?
He was clueless about where to begin. Amy had also been kind enough to leave a small note in the downstairs bathroom explaining that things were not working out for her with him and that she needed to move on with her life. And since Cameron was a young man, Brett could raise him better than she could. And that was it. No mention of love or sorrow just that she had to move on like their marriage had meant less than nothing. After that, he knew that there was no need to do any more looking for Amy. She had skipped town, and he was now a single father.
The problem that he currently faced was that he was an active-duty grunt in the Marine Corps. He spent more days in the field training than he did at home. Outside of filing for a hardship and risking his career, the only thing that he could do was find a babysitter and develop a plan for childcare. He had risked his life for his country, given up everything including some personal rights to be called a Marine, and there was no way in hell he was going to watch it all be flushed down the drain by anyone.
Courtney waited until all the other patron’s had left and it was time to set the alarm before she bothered them. Walking into the room, she waved at Cameron and slid Brett a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Nodding, she hunched her thin shoulders. “You look like you could use it,” she said, noting the tiredness in his eyes.
“I normally don’t do coffee,” he said, picking the cup up, “but maybe this will do something for me that the water isn’t doing.” Putting the cup to his lips, he took a sip and sighed. It did feel good going down.
“It will make you more alert,” she said, looking over at Cameron. “And it will make him less of a handful.”
Brett nodded in agreement. “Do you have kids?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I work around them all day.” Biting her lip, she looked at her watch. “I hate to put you boys out, but we’re closing up for today.”
“Oh, sorry,” Brett said, pushing away from the table.
“I’ll give you a minute to get things together.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking another sip of coffee, “for everything.”
“No problem. Just turn off the light and close the door when you get all of your papers together, and I’ll be waiting right outside here.”
“I’ll only be a minute,” he said, gathering all of his papers quickly.
“Okay, but take your time and make sure you don’t forget anything. We’re closed on Sundays,” Courtney said, quietly exiting the room.
Brett covertly watched her hips as she turned and left them. That was wrong of him to do, especially in his situation, still he snuck a look. Being around such a soft-spoken woman who showed the least bit of concern for him was a breath of fresh air. It roused his primal senses involuntarily and reminded him of what a shitty hand he had been dealt.
“Are you hungry again, man?” Brett asked, stretching and taking his mind off of both Amy and the librarian.
“Can we have Burger King?” Cameron asked, wide-eyed.
“You just had Burger King for lunch,” Brett reminded. “How about I go home and fix us something to eat?”
“Please, Daddy. I want Burger King,” Cameron pleaded.
Brett gave in. “Fine. Burger King it is.” At least he wasn’t asking for cereal.
***
The music blasted in Brett’s truck as he pulled into his cove. Cameron had finally fallen asleep in the back with his Sippy cup pressed firmly to his pouty lips, exhausted from their tour de Swansboro. And Brett had finally calmed down and come to some realization of what had happened to him in the last six hours. That was until he noticed two vehicles in his driveway.
“What the hell is it now?” he asked aloud as he pulled up to his house.
He wasn’t sure if he could take anything else.
Stepping out of his truck and leaving Cameron safely inside, he saw First Sergeant Newman, a chaplain and a silver-haired man in a black suit waiting for him. Evidently, news had traveled fast to the base about his sudden fate, but he couldn’t understand how they knew already unless Amy had told them.
First Sergeant Newman was the first to approach. Wearing his desert uniform and a frown, he approached, extending his large hand to Brett.
“How are you, Brett,” he said with worry in his voice.
It was highly unusual for his superior to address him so informally. Shaking his hand, Brett looked around at his small audience concerned. “Had a long day, First Sergeant and it ain’t getting any shorter,” he said, clenching his keys in his other hand.
“This is Chaplain Myers. I believe that you all met when Lance Corporal Williams died,” the First Sergeant said, stepping to the side to allow Chaplain Myers to shake Brett’s hand as well.
“Yeah, how are you, sir?” Brett asked confused.
Since when did the military send out a chaplain for a divorce?
“Nice to meet you, Staff Sergeant Black,” Chaplain Myers said in a warm voice. His smile suggested that someone had died. Considering his mother had recently passed in the last year and he was the only child, nothing made sense.
“What’s going on?” Brett asked, looking over at the unidentified man, standing a few feet away. “Who’s the civilian?”
They all looked back at the man.
“That’s Kevin Daugherty. He’s with Southern Atlantic Airlines. He needs to talk to you,” First Sergeant said, moving closer to Brett. “It’s best that we step inside.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Brett asked alarmed.
“It’s about your wife,” Chaplain Myers answered. “Have you seen the news at all this morning?”
“No,” Brett answered as his eyes darted back to his truck. “I’ve been sort of busy.”
“Well, that is why we’re here. Why don’t we step inside?” Myers suggested again, motioning towards Brett’s front door.
“No,” Brett answered defensively. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
First Sergeant took a deep breath and put his hand on his hip. “Amy’s plane never made it to her destination, Brett. It went down a couple of hours ago. We couldn’t reach you on your cell. Your wife is dead.”
Brett’s best friend, Joe, came over as soon as Brett called him. Hauling his wife, Judy, with him, he dashed from Jacksonville in their Dodge mini-van packed with kids straight from Wal-Mart to the small township of Swansboro with the blinkers flashing.
When they arrived, Brett was sitting on the porch steps in a daze, staring out in blankness with papers clutched in his hand. Sweat poured down his face and soaked his shirt; his skin had started to burn, reddening around his forehead and cheeks. Yet, he sat baking in the sun like he didn’t feel it.
Brett barely acknowledged his friends as they approached. He even ignored the children as they crawled all over him to get into the house with Cameron. With a little more care, Judy bypassed quietly, moving past him on the steps to follow the children. But Joe came and sat beside him on the step, slowly easing the paper out of his friend’s hand to read the news in print.
It had taken a moment to get Brett to stand up and go into the house. But Joe knew the right words to say to snap his friend out of it. And it had taken even longer to get him to speak. But Joe was good at that too, and in his own little way he coerced him out of his shell.
Slowly, Brett moved back into reality, though it wasn’t easy to be there at the moment. He had seen many things, very gruesome things, and he had held it together through all of it. But never in his life did he expect to be burying what was left of his wife at such a young age, nor did he expect the things that happened preceding her death. It was all a dreamlike experience that seemed to get worse as the day went on. He was almost afraid to see what would happen next. Yet, finally, the eerie feeling in his stomach had subsided. He hoped that meant the hysteria was over.
While the kids played in the backyard, Brett sat at the kitchen table looking through the paperwork that Mr. Daugherty had left regarding his rights. Supposedly, in a freak malfunction, the plane that was to take his wife from Jacksonville to her lover in Japan had suddenly gone down taking all of its passengers with it about an hour after takeoff and crashed into a patch of farm land. There were no survivors. Not one. He dwelled on that fact for a while after he heard it, thinking that just because Amy deserved to be burned to a stake didn’t mean that everyone else should have. He wasn’t sure if he was sadder about her death or the strangers that he had never met.
He had decided as soon as he heard the news to keep the fact that his wife was
leaving him
to himself. Instead, he had stood in a stupor, trying to process everything that had suddenly happened. He had just gone from a husband to part of an abandoned family to a widower in half a day.
Talk about a blink of an eye.
His life seemed to be moving at warp speed.
The only people who did know the truth about his tragedy were sitting across from him at the table looking nearly as shocked as he was.
“The Marine Corps is going to give me a few days to get all the arrangements together. They have a liaison who’s going to help me get some emergency care for Cameron, and the chaplain is suggesting counseling, which the airline will pay for,” Brett said, looking up from the paper.
“I hope that they plan to pay for a hell of a lot more than that,” Joe said absently.
“I’m sure that they will,” Brett said, sipping his beer.
“I hate to ask, but did you have a life insurance policy?” Judy asked, looking over at Joe for approval of her input.
Brett nodded. “Yeah, the same as we all have. $100,000 payable immediately according to First Sergeant.”
“Well, at least that will cover the money she took,” Joe said, immediately wishing he could take back his words. “Shit, man, I didn’t mean it that way.” He did. He just didn’t expect the truth to come out so bluntly.
Brett raised his trembling hand. “It’s okay. I know.” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe that she’s gone. I mean, it was hard enough to know that she was gone…leaving me, but to know that she’s now dead…” His words trailed off as he zoned out again. He almost laughed at the satire.
Judy stood up and picked up their plates. She had fixed them an afternoon meal from the groceries that they had just purchased before coming over. Going to the sink, she immediately began to clean.
Joe could look at his friend and tell that he needed a
man
minute. Standing up, he motioned towards the door. “How about we go and get some fresh air,” he said to Brett.
Standing up, Brett followed him outside to the front porch. Everything seemed bizarre to him at the moment, every movement, every room, every person. It was there, but it wasn’t. With shallow breaths, he tried his hardest to hold on to his fleeting reality.
“Do you want us to take Cameron for a day or two?” Joe asked as he dug a pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket. Pulling out a single Kool, he offered one to Brett.
“You know I just quit a freaking month ago,” Brett said, taking the cigarette from Joe. Lighting the end of the cigarette as he held it in between his full lips, he took a drag and squinted up into the setting sun.
Joe watched his friend for a moment and lit his own. Leaning against the white wooden railing, he stared off. They had been boys for four years. They had served in Iraq and had gone through the perils of married life together. Still, he often marveled at their friendship and their closeness, considering when he had first met Brett, he thought him to be another close-minded redneck.
However, Brett had proven Joe wrong. He had a very open, liberal mind about most things and didn’t make a difference between his black and white Marines. He had never given him shit in the past about being one of the only black men in Bravo Company Recon unit or the fact that he was married to a white woman. He had never asked his view point about President Obama, assuming that just because he was black that he had to be a democrat, which he was.
But that was beside the point
. He had never treated his bi-racial children any different from Cameron. In fact, Brett had never mentioned race at all to him. The only thing he did discuss in length was his rocky marriage to Amy.
No one had approved of her. Sure, she was easy on the eyes – a fair, thin woman barely 100 pounds and fighting for every inch that made her a solid five feet tall. Her big blue eyes and bleached blonde hair matched her saline breasts and French-manicured nails. Amy Black had been the talk of the base. She always worked out during the lunch hour, catching the eye of many higher ups in the grunt gym that she
faithfully
frequented. And on several occasions, while none of the accusations had been founded, she had been linked to a couple of officers in the town bar.
No, no one had approved of her with her Southern charm and her short skirts, her incessant demands of Brett and her drama queen antics that had landed him in a few uncomfortable situations that caused him to move off the base and out of free housing into their current home - a place she had to have because she just couldn’t take being around other Marine wives.
Joe thought that Amy wanted to move out to Swansboro to have more privacy in order to do her dirt without anyone finding out. He believed the stories of her one-night stands with anything with rank and her desire to move up the Marine Corps ladder from being a Sergeant’s wife to being an officer’s wife with a
blue
sticker on the front of her blue Ford Focus instead of the red one she had reluctantly been forced to brandish.
Every opportunity she could get, she stressed to Brett the need for him to go to college and get a degree so that he could go to Officer Candidate School, never taking into consideration that while he was determined to be a lifer in the Marine Corps, he was also happy to be an enlisted man. It was her pressure on him that caused his relentless drive, even when he was already one of the best Marines in the fleet and her demands of him that caused his continued unhappiness with himself.
Joe was actually happy that she was gone, and while he hated that she had to go down in flames
literally
, he felt that she had gotten what was coming to her.
Brett finally snapped out of his daze and realized that they had been standing in silence for a while. Going back to the question that Joe had asked, he flipped the butt of his cigarette over the rail into the bushes and sighed. “Cameron should stay here with me. I’ll be alright. In fact, he might help me get through this.” He said so with hope.
“You sure?” Joe asked. “You have a lot to do. You have to plan a funeral with
her
family, get him into some kind of child care, see a counselor, get a lawyer to sue the pants off this airline and still be ready to rock and roll with the Corps.”
The list sounded daunting to Brett, but he pushed out his chest and rose to the occasion. “As long as I can call you guys
if I need to
, I think that I’ll be fine.”
“Well, you know you can call us. Judy only works part-time at the Naval Hospital. She’d love to help you watch Cameron.”
“Now that I’ve got some extra money, I think that I’ll try to get someone to come into the house and stay with him…just until I get up on my feet.”
Joe had nearly forgotten about the insurance money. Nodding, he thumped his cigarette. “Sounds good. Why don’t we leave Judy to do her thing? She’s going to be in there cleaning for a minute. And the kids are having fun in the back. You and I could go out to the beach. I think Anderson’s having a cookout tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Brett said, fishing out his keys. “I could use something stronger than a beer right now, anyway.”
***
Emerald Isle was only a few minutes away from Swansboro, but it seemed as though Brett was driving into another world. He went from the quiet, tranquil middle-class community by the lake where his home was to the playground for retired officers and business moguls by the Oceanside.
The upscale homes that lined the waterway were all complimented by extravagant boats docked at their backdoors and luxury cars parked in their multi-car garages.
Palm trees swayed in the night air and sparkling stars and a full moon shone down on his black truck as he let his elbow rest on his open window. He looked around and shook his head.
This is the life,
he thought to himself
.
Brett knew that he had no bright ambitions that would land him as a resident in Emerald Isle, and he had no desire to be anything other than what he was. Yet, when he drove over from his world to this one, he always felt a sense of wonder. What were the people who lived here like? How did the other half live? Did they have the same type of worries that he did? Did their wives leave in the middle of the night? Did they know what it was like to sign their lives over for another four years of possible death just to have sense of security for the moment?
The world will never know
, he thought to himself.
With a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and
Kung-Foo Fighters
playing on his radio, he watched the sun trail behind him as he drove over the bridge to his friend’s waterfront condo to let his hair down for a minute. He could feel Joe look over at him every once in a while to see if he had finally broken, to see if he had cracked. Yet, strangely enough, Brett still felt numb, which allowed him to hold it together.
“I’m fine,” Brett finally said, releasing smoke from his mouth.
“You sure?” Joe asked, turning down the radio.
Brett looked down at Joe’s hand. Didn’t he know that a man should never touch another man’s radio? Rush Hour 2 flashed through his mind and he cracked a smile.
Joe was confused by Brett’s sudden smile. Frowning, he sat back in his chair and put his elbow on the window. “Want to talk about it?”
Brett drove quietly, every once in a while checking his rearview mirror. “She didn’t love me,” he said flatly. “She was leaving me, and had it not been for the plane crash, she would have been in another man’s arms by tomorrow. How am I supposed to feel about that?” He looked over at Joe for an answer.
“You’re supposed to feel as betrayed as you obviously do feel. I know what hurts more is that she left Cameron.”
“Makes me wonder if she loved either one of us,” Brett concluded.
“Young women are hard to read. That is why I love Judy. She’s pretty dependable. She might not be a size two, but her heart is made of pure 14 carat gold.” Joe smiled at the thought of her, but he quickly remembered that his friend was mourning and reigned in his own joy. “What you need to focus on now is a plan.”
“You know what really ticks me off?” Brett said, going back to Amy. “And I don’t mean this in a racial way… she was leaving me for a
black
man. You knew Amy. She was by all accounts a racist.”
“Yeah, she was a redneck,” Joe said absently. He looked out the window.
Brett laughed. “Exactly.” He wiped his nose. “It just goes to show that I didn’t know that woman one damn bit.”
Joe smacked his lips. “Well, you can’t beat yourself up over it. You didn’t do anything wrong. Everything that happened came about because of her decisions. Karma’s just a bitch like that.”
Brett shook his head in agreement. Karma was a bitch, but at least for now it was in his favor.
***
Anderson’s place was packed at dusk. Marines and women crowded the small two-bedroom condo and spilled out onto the deck and beach. Music blasted on the stereo and the television played the New York Yankee’s baseball game. People hooked up on the couches and in the bathroom, while some just rolled around on the floor. It was by all accounts a party. Girls. Beer. Lots of making out. And no regrets. A perfect place for Brett.
While some of the men gathered at the grill to pass off food to those waiting, Brett stood talking to Anderson in the small kitchenette.
Quietly, he had told his good friend about his misfortune and received the almost exact response. Apathy. No one liked Amy. And no one was sad to see her go. They did not even pretend, which made it further possible for Brett to come to terms with his feelings.