Page 37 of The Summer We Mended
“Nah,” he said, voice low.“I improved it.”
She exhaled softly, giggling a little as she did.“Yeah.You did.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.The wind rustled the sea grass, and the surf curled like ribbon onto the shore.She knew how this went.These calls were never long.Never guaranteed.And never did they ever start with panic or updates or fear.That wasn’t the rule.The rule was: normal.Always normal.
“How’s your mom?”he asked, as though he were just asking about the weather.
Anna hesitated.She could lie.Say “not bad” or “getting there.”But it was Luke.If there was one person she could be honest with, it was him.He’d know in a heartbeat if she wasn’t being honest, too.And then the phone call would be tainted by that.So she didn’t sugarcoat it.
“She’s… she’s not doing great,” she said.“Some days are better than others.But mostly it’s… a fog.She forgets to eat unless I remind her.She cries without warning, like she’s just walking through her own shadow all the time.She shut the studio down completely, but I think I’ve talked her into reopening it for the season.She’s just so…far away.”
Luke was quiet on the other end, and she knew he was listening the way he always did—fully, like every word was a piece he needed to fit into a larger picture.
“I’m trying,” she added softly.“I really am.But I feel like I’m failing her.Like I did fail her by not coming home sooner, by not realizing it was this bad.I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and I hate that I’m so tired all the time.I shouldn’t be tired.She’s the one who—” Her voice broke.“She lost him.”
“You lost him, too, Anna,” Luke said gently.“He was your dad.”
She pressed her thumb against the rim of her mug, tightening her grip just a tad.It was how she kept her emotions in check.She was trying to hold back her tears; she didn’t want to cry in the few minutes she got to talk to her husband.She could do that later.
“Grief’s not a pie,” he continued.“It’s not like the more she gets, the less you get.You’re allowed to feel it.You’re allowed to be tired.You’re allowed to not have the answers.”
“She needs me to be okay,” she whispered.“But sometimes I’m not.”
“She needs you to be real,” he said.“That’s different.You’re not doing any of us any good if you’re shouldering everything by thinking that you need to pretend to be okay.Your mom, me, the kids, we all need you to be real, baby.”
Anna didn’t speak, afraid her voice would crack.
“And hey,” he added, softer now, “you being there?That’s not failing her.That’s love, showing up messy and tired and unsure and still not quitting.That’s everything.”
She leaned her head back, eyes stinging.She took a few deep inhales and exhales, trying to tamp the emotions back down.The sky was gold now, streaked with fire.
“I wish you were here.”
“I know.”
“Everything feels… less when you’re gone.Like it’s a copy of itself.”
There was another pause.Then: “I think about you when I close my eyes at night,” he said.“About your laugh.The way your hand feels in mine.That stupid mole on your right shoulder that you say looks like a comma.”
Anna laughed, surprised.“It does look like a comma.”
“I miss that comma,” he said, a faint smile in his voice.“I miss all of you.”
The wind shifted.The gulls overhead cried out, lazy and aimless.
“Are you…” she started, then stopped herself.
Ops normal.That was the rule.That meant that they couldn’t get sad on the phone, couldn’t talk about what could happen or might happen, or what was happening.Anna didn’t need to know if he was in a war zone or the statistics; she just needed to hear his voice and know that, in that particular moment, he was okay.It was their rule that she didn’t watch the news, didn’t start thinking about what could be happening there.Most of the stories in the media weren’t true, leaving out crucial parts that would make any soldier’s wife insane with worry.There was no point in putting herself through more crazy than she was already dealing with.
Luke picked up the thread anyway.“I’m safe,” he said.“I’m focused.I’m with my team.We’re good.”
She knew better than to press.He’d never say more than that.Wouldn’t risk it, even if he could.
“Alright, sunshine,” he said after a beat, his voice regretful.“I gotta go.”
Her heart clenched.“Okay,” she said softly.
“You ready?”
