Page 43 of This Is Why

LEXI

The next day,we pick up Gabe at the farm and say our goodbyes to the Carmichaels. David and Colton thump Ty on the back and Annabelle makes him promise not to stay gone so long. Michelle gives me a long hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers in my ear. “Have a greattime.”

When we get to the airport, Gabe fires off questions about everything he sees and Ty answers them without blinking. The flight goes about as well as we could hope and Gabe does okay, even though the initial excitement of being in a plane wore off somewhere around hour nine in the air. The moment we land, though, that excitement ratchets right back up again. The landscape is breathtaking, with palm trees swaying in the wind and mountains in the distance under the clearest blue sky I’ve ever seen in mylife.

Gabe yawns widely as we pull to a stop at a military checkpoint, just off base. “How is it still light outside? I’m so tired.”

I do my best to explain time zones to a six-year-old but, I’m also feeling the jet lag, so stutter around for a while, confusing us both. “It’s midnight at home,” I say, finally. “But it’s only six o’clock here.” Gabe nods and we leave it atthat.

Ty flashes his ID at the men manning the checkpoint who then asks to see my driver’s license. They take a peek, ask a few questions, and then, without further ado, we’re allowed on base. Ty drives slowly, pointing out a few landmarks as we go. I swivel in my seat, struck by the view and trying to take it all in at once before we pull to a stop in his driveway.

I stare at the two-story house in front of me, surprised to find it to be both larger and newer than I expected. “You didn’t tell me the ocean is your backyard.”

“You didn’t ask.” Ty drops me a wink and then climbs out of the car. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he says as I stand and then stretch.

“Wow.” Gabe closes the rear car door and then comes to my side, a light breeze moving in his hair. “Can we go to the beach?” He stares up at me, looking equal parts delirious and thrilled.

I turn to Ty, almost as eager to get my feet in the sand as my son. “What do you think?”

“Of course we should go to the beach. We’ll get everything unpacked later.” He takes my hand and I take Gabe’s and we walk down to the water. The edges of my shirt flap in the breeze and I lean into Ty. It seems fitting somehow that the first time I saw him was on a beach and now here we are at the beach again. We walk right up to the water and Gabe laughs, skipping backward as it washes up towards hisfeet.

Ty wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Thank you for coming home with me,” hesays.

I drop my head onto his shoulder and stare out at the water. The sun glitters across the surface and the sky stretches out before us. I look up at Ty and smile. “If I had known the view was this good, I wouldn’t have put up such a fight.”

* * *

For some reason,military housing made me think of square little space-efficient homes, gray and uniform in their monotony, each one as perfectly boring and utilitarian as the next. While the homes are placed close together, they look more like something I’d find in a suburban neighborhood back home than in a military installation. On the way in, we passed duplexes, triplexes, and even quadplexes, but Ty lives in a large, two story, single family home that looks almost brandnew.

He shows us around the first floor, with its grand, high ceilings and kitchen filled with new appliances. The only thing uniform about the place is the color. All the walls are white, white, white. Gabe stares up at the vaulted ceiling in the living room. “It’s so tall,” he says, spinning in a slow circle.

“This is not at all what I expected,” I say toTy.

“It’s more house than I need, that’s for sure, but I’m not complaining.”

The furnishings are simple yet comfortable. A plush chenille sofa and love seat sit in front of a state of the art TV and sound system. The kitchen table has clean lines and a glass top, surrounded by chairs that look both functional and inviting. There’s even a centerpiece, a swooping arch of candles that have never been lit. The comparison to my well-worn and mismatched furniture back home is humbling.

Ty leads us upstairs and drops Gabe’s bags in a guestroom. “What do you think?” he asks Gabe. “Is this bed big enough foryou?”

Gabe eyes the queen size mattress on a sprawling four poster frame. “It’s like four of my beds at home.” He climbs up on the thing and stretches out spread-eagled. “I can’t even touch the sides.” He grins at us until a massive yawn overtakes him and he squeezes his eyesshut.

“Come on,” I say. “Up and at ‘em.” I extend a hand towards our son. “I’m tired, too, but we need to try and stay up so we get used to being on Hawaiitime.”

We follow Ty past a closed door and into the master bedroom. A king size bed sits under a window with an ocean view. The matching furniture is made of clean lines and rich wood, functional yet elegant in its simplicity. We drop off my bags and I get a peek at the master bathroom.

“I’m feeling like the country hick at the castle, for sure,” I say as I eye the separate shower and a tub so huge Ty and I could both fit with room to spare.

Ty grins. “When I found out I was being stationed here, I did as much research as I could and quickly realized that this is the holy grail of bases. The only thing anyone had to say bad about the place was to watch out for rock fever.”

“What’s that?” I slide a finger along the smooth surface of the countertop.

“I guess some people get really claustrophobic, living on an island for the first time.” Ty shrugs and flips off the bathroom light. “I haven’t dealt with it yet, but maybe that’s because I’m never here thatlong.”

He leads us out of the master and stops in front of the closed door. He pauses for a second with his hand on the knob and then with a deep breath, he opens the door. While the rest of the house feels like he moved his things in with a thought towards moving out again in the near future, this room looks like he took the time to make it feel like home. Bookshelves line three of the walls which are painted a rich brown instead of the uniform rows of white walls everywhere else. A thick mahogany desk sits under a row of windows on the fourthwall.

Books fill two of the three large shelves. The third is filled with ornate boxes and exotic knick-knacks, framed photographs and bits of art. I run my finger along the spines of the books, scanning titles as I step into the room. Gabe goes straight to a shelf filled with a long row of rocks and crystals, spaced neatly in aline.

“These are my treasures,” says Ty. “Things I’ve found or gotten overseas or while traveling. I try to find one thing when I’m in a new place, something that encapsulates the history or culture, and bring it back. When I’m feeling stuck or sad or lonely, I come in here and stare at these things. It makes me feel like I’m a part of something bigger than me.” Ty shrugs. “Which somehow makes me feel better.”

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