Page 72 of The Darkness Within

“Working on it. Any day now I should get the papers in the mail.” My last official day on the United States Army payroll is in six days. After that, I trade a paycheck for a settlement. A fat one. “Did you get everything squared away with your survivor benefits?”

“I did. Although it’s no substitute for my boy.”

Of course not. Not even close.

“Brewer tells me you’re staying with him? Do you like it there?”

“I do. I live with several roommates, but I have plenty of privacy and they’re good company.” Does she have good company? Or is she lonely?

Violet slides the sandwich in front of me and takes a seat. My first bite makes me moan with sheer pleasure, and she giggles, but then the only sound is my chewing. The silence grows heavy and awkward.

“I miss him so much,” she confesses, her voice breaking on the last word.

Fuck. “So do I.”

“They returned his dog tags and his gold cross to me. He died wearing it. That brings me some small comfort. God was with him when he died.”

She swipes tears from her eyes, and I hold my tongue, biting back the acidic words I want to hurl at her. Victor Gutierrez did not die a comfortable death. God was not with him or with me. God fucking quit on us the moment we entered that building! It was the sound of my voice singing to him, my touch, that brought him solace and comfort in his last hours, not a gold fucking cross hanging around his damn neck. Certainly not God!

Fuck these tears! I wipe them with the back of my hand and drag a deep ragged breath into my lungs.

“He talked about you. He was thinking of you at the end. He missed your paella,” I admit with a teary sniffly chuckle.

“He loved my paella, just like his Daddy, God rest his soul.”

Violet makes the sign of the cross, and I hastily copy her, although I’m pretty sure I got it backwards. I grew up Protestant and went to church maybe a total of three times in my life. What the fuck do I know about religious etiquette?

She looks so much like G when she does that. Whereas I would knock on wood or something, G used to make the sign of the cross and kiss his gold cross before tucking it back into his shirt. I’m glad she has it now.

“I never buried him like they wanted. The Army wanted to put him at Arlington, but I couldn’t part with him. I wanted to keep him close, so I had his body cremated. His ashes are in the living room.” Her gaze falls to her lap. “I know that sounds silly, wanting to keep him safe even though he’s gone.”

The heaviness between us punches me squarely in my chest, landing there like a crushing weight that makes it hard to breathe, hard to swallow, hard to…Christ, I’m losing it. Deep breaths, count to three. Touch something solid. All the tricks Brewer taught me. I reach for the only solid real thing nearest to me, Violet’s hand.

She clutches me back with a strong grip. A rope to tether me to the present as the past tries to tear my mind to shreds.

“He’s exactly where he wanted to be. At home with you. You did the right thing.” My voice sounds incoherent, warbled and broken with grief. “He’d want to be here, where you can talk to him, and he can smell your cooking. Where he can look after you.” At least my mind isn’t slipping, it just hurts. It hurts so bad. Wrenching sobs break free of my constricted throat, and Violet grabs me in her strong, reassuring arms. Her motherly hug holds all my broken pieces together like duct tape. “All he wanted was to come home.”

I can’t tell her more than that. Most of it is classified, and even if it wasn’t, those aren’t the sort of details I would ever burden her with. There’s no peace or solace in those torturous details. Only pain and heartbreak. That kind of pain only belongs to me. It’s between me and G, and I’m trying like hell to bury it with him, in the past.

“You come visit with him anytime you want.”

I’m not so sure about that. Talking to a jar of ashes doesn’t hold much appeal for me.

“Can I…” I have to swallow twice before I can get the words out. “Can I come visit you?”

“You’d better.” She warns. When she pulls back, I can see tears in her eyes. “Anytime you want, just drop in.”

“Can I take care of things around here for you?” Jeez, I sound like a kid, asking his mom for chores.

“I’d like that very much.”

Struggling to pull air into my constricted lungs, I take a deep breath and feel a bit calmer, more settled. My time with Violet isn’t coming to an end, just a brief pause. What I won’t say out loud is that I need her memories of him. I need her to lean on me and let me look after her in order to honor my unpaid debt to my best friend, a debt that will forever remain unpaid, no matter how many hours I spend with Violet, fixing things and keeping her company.

My phone beeps with a message.

Brewer:

Valor and Leif are doing fine. Take your time.

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