Page 61 of Broken on the Mountain
"You look like shit, man," Knox announces, stealing a fry.
Travis, quieter but no less direct: "Name the threat."
I exhale, long and slow. "She left again."
The words hang there, raw and honest in a way I'm still not used to.
But for once, Knox doesn't roast me. He just nods and slings a supportive arm around my shoulder. "Vulnerability hangover. Pairs well with fries and your friends not letting you spiral too deep, man."
"She comes back," Travis adds, steady. "Every Friday."
"Yeah. Maybe."
But the wordmaybesticks in my throat, because, despite what Jamie said, he doesn't know the full story.
No one does.
Mom used to leave too. Little trips at first, just like this.
A weekend here, a few days there. Visiting friends, she'd say. Lily just needs some space. And I'd believe her because I was a kid and kids believe their parents are coming back.
Until the day she didn't.
Until the day she called from Germany with a new husband and a new life and a choice that wasn't really a choice at all.
I reminded her of Dad. The man who left her.
I've seen the pictures… I'm a spitting image of the asshole. And the more I matured, the deeper the resemblance grew.
No wonder she couldn't stand the sight of me.
I take a long pull of beer, trying to drown the comparison before it takes root.
"Here he is!" Jamie appears, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "I've changed my shifts this week. I'm on nights with you, big fella. You're not allowed to sulk alone."
"I don't sulk," I mutter.
"You absolutely sulk," Knox confirms. "It's one of your defining traits."
Despite everything burning my insides, I almost smile.
Travis leans back on his bar stool. "Want to hear about my worst Sunday Scaries?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope." He grins. "Ihateddeployment goodbyes. Every single one felt like the last time I'd see my loved ones. You stand there at the gate, trying to memorize your family's face, knowing you might not see them again. And then you get on the plane anyway, because that's the deal when you sign up."
Knox chimes in, lighter. "Lost a climbing partner once. Not dead. Just moved to Colorado for a girl. Swore he'd visit every month, but that lasted two visits before life got in the way."
"So your point is I'm screwed?" I ask, deflating further.
"Our point," Jamie says, "is that you're not the first guy to watch someone leave. And you won't be the last. For now, she keeps coming back, Morrison. Like I said this morning,thatmeans something."
I stare at the table, at the ring of condensation from my glass, at the fries Knox is destroying.
"Why did I ever sign that damn napkin?" I mutter, more to myself because they wouldn't understand anyway.
Charlie swings by with another round, setting down bottles in a way that saysI'm listening but not pushing.
