Page 218 of Severed Heart
“I’m scared you won’t find faith,” she says.
“I’m scared I won’t be strong for Zach,” I admit.
“I’m not scared about that at all, Tyler. I know you’ll be exactly what you’re supposed to be for him.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” I utter.
“I am.” She nudges me as I slow us down, knowing we need to get this out and the trek to our destination is a short one. “This is good, see?”
“I don’t share your enthusiasm, but go,” I tell her.
“Bury me close to my sister and nephew... and don’t pick an ugly casket. I’m scared you’ll pick an ugly casket.”
“Hey, I have good taste,” I defend hoarsely, hating this exchange with every fiber of my being. “But I promise I’ll buy the most expensive light blue Cadillac-quality casket available,” I clip, my eyes stinging.
“Soldier,” she whispers, sensing the pain this is causing me, and I shake my head.
“Keep going,” I demand. “I’ll deal.”
“Get him in school,” she orders as we roll over a divot in the trail. We decided right away to let Zach skip this semester because of the legalities we haven’t gotten to yet and to acclimate him to us to see if it was where this was going. Also, to protect me for serving time, because if I meet Tim right now, I’ll kill him. No question in my mind about that.
Along with therapy, and after the holidays, Mom is giving Zach an aptitude test she’s securing from a school counselor friend so we can see what we’re dealing with. But before we get him back into population, Delphine and I decided we want Zach back in good health, which will give him some needed confidence and some added tools in dealing with the company he’s been forced to keep. From what he’s told us, he loves school, but his classmates, not so much.
“What else?” I prompt, realizing we both went silent as the headlights beam ahead, lighting up our path, along with the added help of the three-quarter moon blazing above us. A moon I’m thankful for, which helped cement the decision to bring her here tonight—timing everything, especially with us as emotional as we are.
“No internet,” she states firmly.
“That’s just not possible, baby. It’s consuming the world.”
“That’s a problem. Mark my words, Soldier, it is evil and will cause much destruction.”
“Sean would agree with you, but tell me why you think so,” I ask, taking a turn and slowing even further—our destination an easy four- to five-minute walk, at most, from the house.
“Because I finally got online when you gave me that stupid smartphone, putting my feelings aside to be objective.”
“And?” I prompt.
“And within minutes, I had watched a cat video, a cute baby video, an inspirational video full of beautiful images, before I watched a train crash into a car with people inside it, which killed them. Then I was exposed to another video where a suicidal soldier begged a cop for a hug.”
Her point strikes where intended, and I swallow as our eyes meet.
“All of that, that chaos, the beautiful mixed with the tragic, to the depraved, is a deity’s view, Tyler. It’s a god’s view, not meant for us. We are not built for such exposure to things like this, capable of processing so many extremes in such a short time. It’s already causing so much harm to young minds, who are now harming themselves. While it is disguised as a good tool, Ifeelit’s evil and know it will do great harm.”
“How about limited internet, monitored social media?” I barter.
“Limited internet,no social mediauntil he’s graduated.”
“You just caused me hours of fighting with him,” I relent.
“I know, but please for me, Soldier. Please. Don’t expose him to that. Make him spend some time in the sun every day and form real relationshipsin person.”
“You love him,” I state as we take one last dip and round the bend of trees, and I stop just short of breaching them.
“You do, too,” she says, scanning our path.
“I’m starting to,” I admit before she takes a second look around.
“He’s special, Tyler, like you. There is far more to him that he is revealing... hey”—she frowns, realizing the path we’re on—“this was blocked before, with many, many large tree limbs.”
