Page 235 of Severed Heart
Zach winds up on the mound as I palm Dad’s shoulder, my heart in my throat as we hold our collective breath. A heartbeat later, the ump calls it as we explode out of our seats.
BLINK.
Dad and I stare, standing side by side, dressed in our blues, as the shots are fired. Granddad’s picture standing nearby as the flag is folded.
BLINK.
My phone rings as I stand idly by the gas pump when my name is called. Turning, I see Layla holding her daughter, Lily, prompting her to wave to me just outside the station door. Grinning, I wave back as I answer.
“Hey man, long time.”
“I’ve got it on good authority that you’re being called up, buddy,” Beekman imparts, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“No shit? Now?”
“Affirmative. I hope you have a realtor in DC.”
“I’m hoping you have one,” I retort absently, as it starts to sink in.
“Matter of fact, I do,” he boasts.
“I prefer to have one you haven’t jilted,” I quip.
“Oh, then you’re on your own.”
“Figures,” I jibe.
“Pack your bags, brother, and your kid, and let him know Uncle Beekman is picking you both up soon, secret agent man.”
BLINK.
Zach tosses his duffle into his truck, his gaze lingering on our DC house for long seconds as I rattle feet away. Glancing over to me, he easily reads my expression before pulling me to him. “Don’t worry, Dad,” his whisper reaches me. “I swear I’ve got this. You made sure of it. Love you.”
Just after he pulls away, I place the knife in his palm speaking around the lump in my throat. “She would have wanted you to have it.” His eyes fix on the knife as he swallows, the sting evident before he nods.
“Thank you.”
“Call me as soon as you can.”
“I’ll call you in ten minutes,” he says before he pulls away.
My phone rings in five.
BLINK.
“Zuzu’s petals, there they are!” Jimmy Stewart rings out on screen as Zach feasts on Mom’s Christmas tree–shaped Rice Krispie treats, his size twelve boots hanging over her ottoman. Scouring the living room, I chuckle as Dad catches flies, mouth gaping in his second nap today. In the corner, I watch as Mom pulls out a familiar box from a large plastic bin. Inside is an ornament that gives me both a nostalgia kick and stokes my constant heartache. At the sight of it, I’m transported back into our little house as silver eyes stare back at me, her lips twisted in a grin.
“It’s my ugly ornament,” I utter to Mom who looks back over to me, concern in her eyes. “I’m okay,” I assure in a rough whisper. “Let me hang it?”
She gives me an easy nod, her eyes misting before she turns to stare at her glittering tree. “I miss her all the time, Son.”
BLINK.
Standing in the doorway of Tobias’s office, he looks over to me, utter devastation on his face. Reason being, Cecelia accepted another man’s ring. “Talk to me,” I prompt, the sweat from hauling ass here cooling on my back.
“No need,” he states.
“You can continue to lie,” I counter, remaining idle, “and maybe I’ll pretend to believe it, or we can talk, really talk this out. Choice is yours.”
