Chapter 2
A lex
July
I can say with absolute certainty that none of my siblings saw their significant others for the first time and knew their lives were changing for the better.
I knew the moment I saw Sara Taft that I would marry her one day. After our first date, I could picture our wedding. Within a month, I envisioned our children. I knew exactly how I was going to propose, and how she’d respond. I’d never felt so peaceful in my life. Sara was comfort and home.
After attending a football game on the College of Colorado campus in Boulder with my younger brother Dominic, a full-time student there, I took the long way back to my car, walking past so many large dorms and apartment-style buildings for students. I had a momentary twinge of jealousy over what they might experience there, but I shook it off. I knew a long time ago that college wasn’t for me. It’s why I joined the military. I wanted out of Colorado. I wanted to see different places of the world, one where I wasn’t “one of the Santo kids,” and featured on the small-town gossip website every couple of days.
Staring up at the large dormitories, I wondered what it would have been like for me if I’d chosen to attend. Dom was in his glory at college. Learning had always been a passion of his, and he was determined to take over running Everlasting Hotel and Spa one day. I loved that for him, but not for me. Don’t get me wrong: I love the hotel my family has owned and operated for generations in my hometown of Eternity Springs, Colorado. But I didn’t want to work there.
What kind of degree would I have gotten at CCB? Something business related, like Dom? Or something I was interested in, like physical therapy, or sports management? Maybe kinesiology. Something that involved my entire body, working in a field that I had a genuine interest in. I thought about poly-sci briefly, until I realized how sedentary that job would be, and I felt like puking.I can’t stand to sit still.
My job in the National Guard technically fell under security forces, which is the military’s nice way of saying I was a police officer. When I was here, in Colorado, it was boring as fuck. We’d patrol our tiny base, and check ID’s at the gate. Most excitement I’d seen was when a drunk guy mistook the gas for the brake, and rammed into, ironically, the anti-ramming vehicle barriers that servicemen manning the gates can deploy. Another time, a troop exited his car to check on a gap in perimeter fencing, and a pronghorn took the opportunity to get in the security forces vehicle. Pronghorns aren’t that big. They’re just the size of a small antelope, but it still managed to do thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to the car.
In any case, my military job stateside was pretty boring. When we’d get the opportunity to go overseas, that’s when it would get exciting. That’s when I’d feel my best. When I’d be busy and constantly on the go. I missed my family every time I deployed, but I didn’t have anything I felt that I was truly leaving.
Until Sara.
Walking to my car after that random football game, the voice of an angel asked for my help. “Quick! Grab those papers!”
As I turned, I only saw a flash of blonde hair before a flurry of white blew around me. I grabbed as many as I could while listening to this tiny woman mutter to herself.
“Are you okay?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Stupid anatomy class,” she snapped. As I handed her the papers, she turned, and I felt like my world tilted on its axis. Porcelain skin, eyes the shade of a Colorado blue sky, and the plumpest pink lips I’d ever seen. I saw her lips moving, but couldn’t make out any sound, until she waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, uh, sorry. What is all this?”
“My stupid anatomy and physiology class assignment where we had to color all of these nerves and muscles, and honestly, if I wanted to major in art, I would have done that instead of nursing, because this is ludicrous!” she said, her voice getting louder and louder as a lock of pale blonde hair fell across her forehead. I had to resist the urge to move it out of the way so I could see her eyes better. When she huffed, the puff of air blowing the hair away, I couldn’t help but grin.
I was meeting my wife. I knew it deep in my soul.
“I’m Alex,” I remember saying as I thrust my hand into her space. “What’s your name, and can I take you to dinner?”
“I’m Sara,” she laughed. “And yes.”
I never looked back from that moment. She was my future.
When her hand hit mine, I didn’t get a crazy zing that some people talk about. Like lightning coursing up their arm. Instead, a sense of peace overtook me. Warmth flowed slowly across my skin, like sliding into the hot springs at my family’s hotel. That was a great way of expressing our entire relationship. Warm and homey. We rarely argued, instead having almost all of our morals and values lined up perfectly. On the rare occasion we disagreed, a calm discussion took place.
I proposed after two years of dating, and we were married only a few short months later, on our joint birthday. That’s right, we shared a birthday. What better way to celebrate than tying our anniversary to our birth date? So, when Sara turned twenty-three and I turned twenty-five, we pledged to love one another until death parted us.
I just didn’t think it would end up being as early as it was.
And today, as I sit by her grave, I hate how I can’t hear her voice. Get her advice. See her with our kids. I want more Sara.
“God, I miss you,” I sigh, leaning my side against the large gravestone and absentmindedly tracing the letters of her name with my forefinger. Sara Taft Santo. I hadn’t seen a reason to put her maiden name on there, but her parents demanded it. Since they bought the rather ostentatious gravestone, I didn’t have much say in the matter. Bad enough that my wife was buried in their family plot, with no room for me. Never occurred to me that she should have updated her will with specifics about her death, but again, I assumed if either of us would die, it would be me. Maybe I could have voiced an opinion, but frankly, I was so inconsolable I could barely function.
Sara was killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. Our kids were with my parents, thankfully, but I was deployed. Out in the desert, with no communication, it took almost a week for news to reach me. By that point, Sara’s parents had already planned everything. Even immediately leaving Afghanistan, it took me two days to get home. I walked into our house to find Sara’s parents and my parents fighting.
“You can’t take them!” My mother shouted.
“It’s what our daughter would have wanted,” Sara’s mother, Nancy, insisted.
“What would she want?” I asked.
“Daddy!” Ben sobbed, running into my arms. He shook as he cried, and I’ll never forget that feeling. My poor child, at only three years old, had lost his mother.
“What would Sara want?” I asked again.
Jim, Sara’s dad, squared his shoulders as he turned to me. “We want to take the kids back to our home. They can’t continue to live here with your schedule. They need to be in a home with two parents.”
I stared at them incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Nancy gasped. “Language!”
“I don’t fucking care, Nancy!” I shouted, jarring Ben. My dad grabbed him out of my arms so I could address my in-laws. “How dare you come in here and try to take them away. You’re doing this right now because you wanted to get them before I came home. Would you have even let me see them?”
“Of course we would – we will. We’ve already spoken to an attorney, Alex. We’re suing for custody,” Nancy cried, her voice hysterical with grief.
“You go ahead. Waste your money. Just know that Sara and I both have wills, and our instructions for our children are incredibly specific.” I knew there was a section of her will, mine too, that stated the children would not be taken away from either of us in the instance a spouse passes away.
“What does that mean?” Jim boomed. My father-in-law always tended to puff out his chest when he was trying to appear more foreboding and authoritative. To me, he always just looked like a fat baboon.
“It means that your daughter specifically stated in her will that the two of you,” I pointed to both of them, maintaining eye contact to ensure they were paying attention, “were allowed visitation, and nothing more. I actually think she has a stipulation in there that you are not allowed to gain guardianship or custody of the kids, no matter the circumstances.”
“She wouldn’t!” Nancy whispered. “What kind of monster are you? You brainwashed our daughter! We’ll fight this!”
“No, you won’t,” I sighed. “You’re hurting and upset right now, but you know this is for the best. My entire family is here. The support system my kids have is unmatched. You live two hours away. You’d be ripping them away from the family, their friends, and the schools and daycares they know.”
Nancy’s lower lip trembled as she studied me. “They’re all we have left of her.”
“They’re all I have left of her, too,” I whispered, closing my eyes as hot tears built. I had yet to cry. I couldn’t cry in front of my unit, or on the five flights it took me to get home. But at that moment, in our home, where I could still smell the comforting notes of Sara’s perfume, I knew I was in danger of collapsing into an emotional heap.
“Please — please don’t take them away from us. They’re a part of Sara, and it would kill us if you didn’t let us see them,” Jim said brokenly, his eyes covered with a sheen of tears.
“I would never do that,” I told them. “You’re their grandparents. They love you. But you can’t take them away from me. I’m their father. This is the only home they’ve ever known. I’ll change my schedule as much as I can to be home more. We can schedule dinners with you every week if necessary. But if you take them away from me … I won’t survive losing my entire family.”
“Oh, Alex,” Nancy breathed, putting her arms around me. “We didn’t think — we just reacted. We’re so sorry. We lost our baby girl, and now we don’t know how to move forward.”
“Neither do I,” I confess quietly. Neither do I.
It took an hour of talking to Sara’s parents, calming them down and assuring them that I’d keep them in their grandchildren’s lives, before they finally left to drive home. Halfway between Denver and Colorado Springs, Jim and Nancy Taft owned a beautiful upper-class home in a sought-after neighborhood in Castle Rock, Colorado. Sara grew up with everything she could ever need, yet somehow never expected anything. She was the most selfless person I knew.
Was. I’ve never hated a verb tense more.
Looking at the picture Jim and Nancy had etched onto the gravestone, I don’t notice the tears that trace down my cheeks. “I hate my life, Sar. Fucking hate it. I’m miserable without you. I hate my job. I’ve been doing it for a year and I know I can’t do this for twenty years. I’m so alone, and I have no one to talk to.”
Date .
I scoff. “I’m not dating anyone. No one could replace you. You know that.”
Date anyway.
“No.” Am I having a conversation with my wife at her gravesite? Yes. Is it concerning? Also yes.
Love someone else.
“Absolutely not. I’ll never love anyone like I love you. How can you even ask me to do that?”
It’s okay.
“No, it’s not. I could never love someone else. My heart will always belong to you. You. No way could I do that to you.” Pretty sure I’m shouting.
You can love another woman. I want you to be happy.
“No,” I say adamantly. How can she ask this of me? How am I supposed to move on like she wasn’t the love of my life?
You have to let go.
“No.” I look down in my hands, gripping my keys tightly, where just the keychain sits against my hand. Sara made it years ago. On one side is a picture of us in front of Everlasting, and on the other is a picture of us with our kids. It’s one of my most prized-possessions, and I took it with me on each deployment. I considered it to be my lucky charm.
The number of times she talked about how she couldn’t wait until our kids were older and she’d introduce them to her love of crafting … and then she died before either of our children really en joyed it. Since I don’t have one ounce of creativity, I certainly haven’t attempted to continue her ideas.
I’m doing such a shit job as their only parent.
Rubbing both palms across my face, I finally say the thing I’ve thought a million times. “It should have been me.”
A gust of wind whips around me, unsettling loose leaves that only recently fell from the Aspen trees. Aspens were Sara’s favorite, and we made countless trips into the mountains each autumn to see the leaves change. It was a huge production each year: scouting out the location, planning stops, and what to bring for lunch. It wasn’t an hour trip. No, we were gone the entire day. Sometimes overnight. My wife loved everything about Colorado in autumn.
I haven’t taken the kids once.
“I’m failing them, Sar,” I whisper brokenly. “I can’t do this without you.”
Yes, you can. You will.
“I need you,” I rasp.
I know. But she needs you too.
“Abbie?”
No .
“Who?”
You’ll see.