Soaring Seventeen Years Old, Virginia
Soaring
Seventeen Years Old, Virginia
After a night of fitful sleep, my alarm blares before sunrise.
Connor’s ceremony. Eight o’clock. George Washington’s Mount Vernon.
I power through a shower, then dress in a burgundy sweaterdress, argyle tights, and camel boots before blowing out my hair and securing it in a neat pony. Then I rush through a makeup job that I’m hoping will make me appear more rested than I feel.
I’m gathering my keys, phone, and bag in the kitchen when Isaiah appears, standing bleary-eyed in the entryway.
“When will you be back?” he asks.
“Like, eleven?” I move closer, running a hand through his disheveled hair. I’m not angry the way I was last night. After texting with my friends, I got to thinking…Isaiah doesn’t want to crash Connor’s retirement ceremony; he just wants me to want him there.
I smooth my dress and ask, quietly, “Are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “I’m…I don’t know. Struggling? But today’s about you and your family and his family. I’m not gonna fuck it up.”
He’s never said Beck’s name aloud. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“I’ll text when I’m on my way back.”
“Yeah.” Eyes downcast, he says, “Drive safe.”
“Isaiah.”
He lifts his chin, gaze cool, jaw set. “Do what you came to do. We’ll talk later.”
***
The air gleams with a dawn chill, but the sky is clear and the sun dazzles in the east. A day fit for celebrating.
I navigate to the highway, where I’m roadblocked by a jam of cars. Antsy, I weave in and out of lanes, trying to gain ground, but as soon as I’ve found a flow, brake lights explode in front of me. The clock ticks closer toward eight and then, appallingly, beyond.
When I park at the estate, I’m a knot of stress. It’s been years since I was last at Mount Vernon, and by the time I make my way to the Visitor’s Center and hurry around the Upper Garden and toward the Bowling Green, a large lawn in front of the stately main house, the ceremony is underway.
My dad stands before a few dozen people, distinguished in his dress uniform, speaking about Connor’s selfless and noble service. I hang by a grouping of trees in the back, near enough that I can hear, but not so close that my arrival interrupts. While I listen, I find Bernie and the twins in the front row, as well as her mother and both of Connor’s parents. My mom’s on Bernie’s opposite side, her hair like spun gold in the morning light.
I could cry, looking at these people I love so much.
Dad closes his remarks, finishing with, “It’s an honor to have served this great nation with you, Connor, but my truest privilege over the last quarter century has been your friendship.”
My chest fills with gratitude. For so long, the Byrnes have been knit together with the Grahams. How fortunate we are, to have each other.
If Beck were here, I’d take his hand.
Before it’s Connor’s turn to speak, he accepts an abundance of medals and certificates, his grin somehow both dignified and mischievous, so much like his son’s once was.
Oh, my heart.
He clears his throat before launching into a highlight reel of his military career. He speaks of his parents, his earliest enthusiasts. He speaks of Bernie, his great love. He speaks of the Grahams, his chosen family. He speaks of his daughters, harbingers of happiness.
He speaks of Beck.
“My oldest child, my son, is no longer with us. That’s still an unbearable reality to reckon with. His passing is, in large part, why I’ve chosen to leave Army life behind. My family needs me—all of me.” He pauses, letting his sorrow dissipate as he draws a shaky breath. “I’ve also become too old and too creaky to max out push-ups on the PT test.”
There’s a smattering of laughter. Like their auburn hair, Beck and his dad share a flair for levity, a knack for comedic timing. Thank God for that, because I’ve been teetering on tears since I stepped onto George Washington’s lawn.
“I thank you for coming today,” Connor continues, “whether you battled the Beltway or flew across the county. Your enduring support confirms my decision to retire. Your smiling faces give me comfort, and bring me a hell of a lot of happiness. It’s funny: When you’ve trudged through deep pain, the joys that follow are all the greater.”
A hollow screech echoes across the historic estate.
Everyone looks up as an eagle glides overhead, the white feathers of its head stark against the cobalt sky.
It calls again, dipping low, showing off, exuding credence.
A shiver dances across my skin.
Beck is with us.
He always will be.
I drop my gaze back to the ceremony to find that Connor’s face has changed. He looks astounded—except he’s not watching the eagle anymore. He’s staring right at me. It must take him a moment to make sense of what he’s seeing, to register my presence as more than a trick of the light. His face breaks into a smile.
Bernie turns to find the source of her husband’s surprise.
When she spots me, her mouth falls open.
So does my mom’s.
My dad lifts a hand to shade his eyes, peering through the sunshine to where I stand.
In perfect unison, the twins squeal, “Lia!” and before Bernie can snag their little hands, they’re scampering through the grass and into my open arms.
***
Norah and Mae stay by my side as their daddy’s ceremony comes to an official end.
The eagle lingers, swooping and soaring in the sky.
Connor has guests to receive, but Mom, Dad, and Bernie hurry to where the twins and I wait. Bernie wraps me in a hug before nudging me into Mom’s arms. She holds me tightly, smoothing a hand over my hair, and then it’s Dad’s turn.
“You were supposed to stay close to home,” he says. For a second I think he’s mad, but when he pulls back, his eyes are full of fondness.
“How did you…?” Mom asks.
“I drove, Friday night. I left after your flight took off. I just—I couldn’t miss this.”
I broke rules. I lied. Our dynamic has never been messier. But I’m hoping for grace.
Mom loops an arm around my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Dad says.
“Where are you staying?” Bernie asks as the twins run circles around us.
“Near GMU, with Macy and Wyatt.”
Dad ruffles my hair. “I can’t believe you drove all the way here by yourself.”
I swallow, hoping his goodwill endures my next bit of news. “Actually, Isaiah came with me.”
If he’s unhappy, he doesn’t let on. I look at Bernie, trying to discern whether she recognizes the name, whether Mom told her about the new person in my life. I find pain in her expression, but acceptance too. She reaches for me, and I lean into her, wishing I hadn’t spent the last year and a half avoiding her hugs.
“I’m glad you haven’t been alone,” she whispers.
Bernie’s never given me anything but the truth.
“You’re not upset?”
“Girlie, no. I expected you to move on eventually. What you and Beck had was extraordinary. Your next love will be too.”
I nod, teary all over again.
She smiles. “All I want is for you to be happy. So would Beck. He’d want you to live, Lia. He’d want you to love.”
The eagle calls out, a resonant caw slicing through the tranquil morning.
We watch it ascend over the estate, wings spread wide, beak aimed toward the Potomac.
We watch it disappear into the dazzle of the spring sun.