Page 67 of Close Match
“He sponsors kids to ride?” I’ve seen kids of all ages around the farm, but I assumed they were there for the classes I’d heard people talking about. It never occurred to me there might be more than just that. In my quest to get to know my father, we’ve never really talked about the business. It doesn’t surprise me though. Knowing what he’s told me about his background and the kind of people I know Ev and Char are, I can totally see them sponsoring underprivileged kids. Another part of my heart warms toward my father and his wife. I feel Monty relax a little beneath my hand.
“Yeah.” Even though I can’t see his face, I can hear the smile in his voice. “These kids come in with no confidence, and the idea is to get them to build up trust. Build up their faith in the world around them.”
“Has it done the same for you?”
My question lies in between us in the small confines of the car. Monty’s harsh breathing is all I can hear despite the raging storm outside. “I’m not prying, but I’m assuming this involved a child. You don’t have to tell me,” I add on quickly.
“It’s always worse when there are children involved.” There’s a sting in the back of my eyes I ignore. If he wants to talk, I’ll listen to every detail without showing a single ounce of emotion. “And when decisions have to be made in a split second, time is only a luxury in the aftermath.” He lowers his head to his clenched hands. I doubt he notices my hand smoothing up and down his broad back. “Should I have made a different call? Would things have turned out differently?”
“In the aftermath of my mother’s death, I asked myself that and a lot of different questions.” His head whips around to mine. “I noticed some oddities that she waved off; she overheated at the oddest times, out of breath. Did I dismiss them because she wanted me to or because I didn’t want to see? Would she still be alive if I trusted my intuition more?” The tears I swore I wouldn’t shed spill over. I swipe at them angrily. “I’m sorry, this isn’t about me.”
“I had a choice of trying to talk a boy down from taking his own life or taking a shot to disarm him that almost certainly would have taken Shaun’s.” I can’t hold the gasp in no matter how hard I try. “Turns out he was too far gone to leave it up to my decision. How do I live with that? How do I trust my judgment when I spent the next month being berated for making the wrong call? By my chain of command? By his mother?”
“How do they know he wouldn’t have tried at another time?” I wonder aloud.
“Excuse me?” Monty whispers. I struggle as I try to clarify the question.
“Not knowing anything more than what you just said, it seems like this poor soul was determined, Monty. It’s a horrible tragedy. It happened, and you feel you made the wrong decision, but if he was willing to do something so tragic in front of strangers…” I shake my head. “He would have found a way to do it alone for sure. He was searching for a way out, not for a way to be helped.”
“How can you be so sure?” The uncertainty in his voice is my undoing.
“Because he may not have thought there was a reason to get help when he saw no way out. He couldn’t see past his own pain to see who else would be impacted by the decision he made. He was just a kid, Monty. His reasoning was impaired by what happened. There was no way for him to know it might have been the hardest fight of his life, but he could have survived.”
At his doubtful look, I give him my truth. “It took a long time, but my mother realized her drinking while pregnant with me caused me lifelong complications. It’s not my fault she drank; I wasn’t even born yet. She was determined to get help though. Even though she spiraled on and off in her journey, she kept trying. Eventually, she had a reason inside why she was trying to get sober.” Sitting back, I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill that runs through me.
Monty hasn’t moved a muscle. I push forward. “Don’t you get it? You’re a victim of what happened just as he is. That’s why you don’t want to go back. Whatever happened is eating away at your soul because you’re carrying the burden for everyone.”
“How…” he chokes out. There’s a single tear running down his face. No one’s ever explained it from this point of view to him because he felt he had to be a hero and hold it all in.
“Because you have the same look on your face that I remember seeing on mine when Patrick told me that rehab failed for my mother. Again. You look lost and terrified.”
Shifting in his seat, he faces me. “How old were you?”
“Which time?”
“Any, all of them.”
“My earliest memories of my mother drinking and cheating on Dad—Patrick? God, I was no older than two.”
“What did your father—” He shakes his head. “—Patrick do?”
“Kept trying to get my mother help. He loved her—God. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that. When she was sober and saw what her actions were doing to me, well, that might have been her compass to save herself. But she had to be her own north. Nothing else would have saved her. With addicts, I don’t know if anything else does.” I glance over at Monty, something about the shadows under his eyes sparking a disquieting memory, but I push it aside. If he’s been carrying these kind of burdens, it’s no wonder he’s not getting enough sleep.
Monty’s quiet as the storm starts to let up. I hope this doesn’t put a wedge between us. “I didn’t tell you all of that to redirect the subject. What I was trying to drive home was I don’t think there was anything you could have done. Unless the person is willing to change, nothing will compel someone to let go of something toxic for something beautiful otherwise.”
Shifting back, he looks at the homes directly across from us. “His mother told me I betrayed the badge I wore.”
“That’s someone else lashing out in their grief,” I declare resolutely.
“Maybe. But it made me question my judgment enough that I leapt at the opportunity to get away. I couldn’t be responsible for the lives of other people while I used the job to try to find my confidence,” he admits.
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Tell that to SecNav and the director. Both of them are putting the pressure on for me to come back.” Monty pushes the button to start his Jag.
“And do you want to jump back into the saddle?” I probe as he puts the car into gear.
“Only the kind that has Hatchet beneath. I still don’t trust myself to make the right choices.” He swings the car out onto the tree-lined two-lane road and punches the gas. Soon, we’re flying down the highway in a dizzying blur of twists and turns with no other words between us.
