Chapter 26 Everything After
twenty-six
Everything After
I’m not one-hundred percent. I can feel it in the first few strides of my run. It’s not just the usual mental anguish I’ve felt since the whole thing with Michael. I can drown that out by pushing myself to where all I can hear is my heartbeat, all I can feel are my legs moving me forward.
I think I’m sick.
I’ve been a model girlfriend waiting for her boyfriend to come home for almost two months now. I spend the weekends doing homework or hanging out with Kendra and helping with wedding stuff. I live for Jacob's emails. We talk about when he gets home, all the things we want to do together.
I haven’t answered any of Michael’s phone calls, emails, or texts. Not even when he sent flowers. Not even when he said he wouldn’t push anymore, that he was okay with being just friends.
Eight more weeks, eight more weeks. That’s my running mantra now. In eight weeks, Jacob will be home and everything will be perfect again.
I never get sick, but this time I’m pretty sure there’s something physically wrong.
The flu is going around. I feel dizzy, nauseous, and my energy is gone.
My legs are like bricks. I cut my route short and quit before I've even gone two miles. I always feel guilty when I do that—like I’m wimping out.
By the time I get to my apartment, I know I’m sick.
“Are you okay?” Nichole asks when I walk in. She touches my forehead. “You feel hot.”
“I just finished a run. But I don’t feel good. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”
“You must really feel awful,” she looks at the clock. It's only 6:30.
I shower, leaning against the wall for support. Getting into my pajamas leaves me exhausted. My whole body aches. I glance at my computer. I’ve been emailing Jacob every night before bed. Usually, it’s just a quick goodnight. I don’t even have the energy for that.
About one o’clock I wake up flushed and barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up. As I crawl back into bed, I pray this is a short bug. I can’t get behind in school. I lie back down, exhausted.
“Jess,” Nichole is calling for me.
I look at the clock, seven-thirty a.m. If I’m going to make it to class, I have to get up now. I sit up, and my head pounds.
“Jess,” she calls again.
I get up and walk towards the door. It takes all my strength. I'm not going anywhere today. I lean against the door frame. “I’m not going to class today. I feel terrible.”
“It’s not that.” She walks into my room. She’s holding my cell. I must have left it in the living room last night. “You have a phone call.”
Something about her face makes me dread taking the phone from her. I wonder if it’s Michael. I told my roommates that I can’t talk to him.
“Hello.”
It’s a man’s voice. Not Michael, but one I immediately recognize.
"Dad?"
Dad never calls me. Usually when Mom calls, she puts him on the phone and we talk for a minute, but he’s never initiated a phone call.
“Jessica, baby.” The tone of his voice is scary—quiet, tender, deadly serious. He hasn't called me baby since I was little. “We had a visit from the Army this morning.”
I clutch the phone tighter. I already know what he’s going to tell me.
It's never good news if they show up in person.
“Matthew is gone. He was killed yesterday when a rocket-propelled grenade hit his Humvee.” Dad’s voice wavers.
I breathe in once. Matthew, not...my mind can’t finish that sentence.
I clutch the phone, and lean against the wall for support. I can’t speak, I can’t cry. Nichole catches the look on my face and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Jess, are you there?” Dad asks.
“I’m still here,” I whisper.
“There’s more.”
“More,” I squeak. I can’t wrap my head around what he just told me. How can there be more?
“Gage was with him. He was killed too.”