Page 109 of Ebbing Tides
But my sisters had called a month or so before the big day and asked if they could throw a party. They reminded me that I'd never had a birthday party, that I'd seldom done much to celebrate another year around the sun in the past, and that I should commemorate such a milestone with something big. I then reminded them that I hated parties, that there was a reason why both of my marriages had been celebrated quietly, and that the last thing I wanted was to surround myself with a bunch of people I barely knew and celebrate a birthday they cared little about. So, Sid suggested that we do something but keep the guest list limited to family only, and that sounded like an okay idea, one I could get behind if Lucy and Grace were going to be insistent on doing something.
But I hadn't expected then that I would now be surrounded by a house full of people. To me, the thought of family extended to little more than Melanie, the boys, my sisters, their husbands, their kids, and Lizzie and Jane. That alone was a crowd.
But I hadn't expected my grandfather, Maxwell Benjamin Meyer, and his children—my aunt Carrie and uncle Jack—to join us.
I hadn't expected Lizzie and Jane to bring their boyfriends—a couple of nice guys their mother would've loved.
I hadn't expected Brett to come with them—happily.
I hadn't expected Melanie's parents to drive up from Connecticut to meet my sisters and the men I'd called my brothers for many, many years.
I figured Charlie and Stormy would come by, and I was happy to have them there. But I never would've expected them to bring Stormy's sister and brother-in-law—Rain and Soldier—along with their kids. Stormy said they were visiting and didn't want to hang out in the cemetery all night. But when Charlie introduced me to Soldier, the big, tough-looking guy shook my hand and said it was a pleasure to finally meet me.
As if he'd been wanting to.
As if I was someone worthy of meeting, of knowing.
And when I looked around at all these people, all these friendly faces, I realized they all wanted to know me. They all wanted to celebrate me and the life I'd lived—past, present, and future. They were all happy that I existed on this planet, even if the people who had put me here never were.
I was lucky.
But more than that, I was loved.
And I couldn't think of anything more worthy of celebrating than that.
***
Later that night, after the guests left Sid and Grace's house and all that was left was a mess, Sid, Grace, Melanie, and I ignored the dishes in the sink and the garbage bags piled by the door and instead made the executive decision to polish off the cake between the four of us.
“Soldier's nice,” Sid commented, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. “Big fuckin' dude though. Kinda scary actually. Guy looks like he could fuckin' kill someone.”
Melanie nodded thoughtfully. “Funny you should say that,” she said, her lips twitching into a smirk.
Sid stopped mid-chew. “Why are you making that face?”
“Luke knew him in prison,” Melanie said casually, and with that, the three of us slowly turned our attention to her. With a laugh, she shrugged as she stabbed another chunk of cake with her fork. “What?”
“Sweetheart,” I said, flabbergasted, “you can't just … casually drop that on us without elaborating.”
With another laugh, she finished her bite of cake and dropped her fork, wiping her hands off on a napkin. She leaned back against my arm, draped over her chair, and I moved it to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her to rest against my side.
“So, I remember Luke mentioning a guy named Soldier, and that’s not a name you just forget, right? But I never asked for many details. I tried not to think much about who he was locked up with. But, apparently, according to Stormy, he did, like, nine years for manslaughter,” she said. “He was dealing drugs, and his best friend overdosed on something he was selling. Or something like that. I don't know too many details.”
Grace's eyes widened. “How do you not dig for more info? Like, I'm sorry. I'd be asking Stormy for everything she’s got.”
Melanie shrugged. “It doesn't faze me much, I guess. Luke was sentenced to twenty-five years for second-degree murder, and I married him,” she said, her voice holding a touch of disbelief, like even after all these years, she still couldn't believe the trajectory of her own life. “Everyone has shit in their past, and not everything is a reflection of their character. Not all of it is black and white, you know? Some of it is, yeah, but … not everything. Not for everyone.”
The room fell silent for one thoughtful moment. It was impossible not to think about the things I had done. The people I had hurt. The ones I had killed. I knew about Luke, of course. I knew the name of the man he’d murdered. I couldn’t say the same for the lives I had taken. They remained nameless, but I knew their faces. I could never forget. And as proud as I was to have served my country, I never cared to think much about the blood that had permanently stained my hands and soul.
Sid grunted a contemplative sound, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his mind had also gone to Afghanistan. But then … of course it had.
He nodded and said, “I mean, you're not wrong.” His voice was rough, his tone heavy.
My eyes met his across the table. With a barely noticeable nod from my best friend, I knew we were on the same page without a single word spoken.
Then, like the pro he was at brushing the heaviness aside, he allowed a smile to stretch across his face. “But listen, all I'm saying is, if I need some crimes committed, I gotta feeling that dude's the one to call. Like, I could tell him I have a coupleof bodies to bury, and he’d be like,Hold on. Let me grab my shovel.”
Grace laughed but smacked his arm all the same. “Oh my God, stop! He was so nice,” she scolded, rolling her eyes.
