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“‘Why?’” I asked her, repeatedly. My voice was something I hadn’t recognized since my dad passed away. It only took an instant for my world to crash down around me, for my heart to drop to the ground leaving me open to every imaginable pain possible. For the first time in a long time I was crying and she was standing there matching me tear for tear.
“I asked her again, why, and she shook her head. “‘You’re dead. How is this… why?’” But I didn’t want to hear those words from her. “‘Who?’” I asked her next, and she dropped her head, covering her face with her hands. I couldn’t wait any longer for her answer so I went to her, grasping her wrists in my hand and pulling them away from her face. “‘Who gave you that ring, Ryley?’”
“‘Nate. I’m marrying Nate because you’re dead. You’ve been dead for so long. So long… why are you doing this to me?’”
“I stepped back, dropping her hands. It was like her words burned me. They did in a way.”
“‘I’m not dead, Ryley. Why would you think that?’”
“‘We buried you. We had a funeral, and you were put into the ground with honors. Other SEALs were there. Their Tridents are imbedded in your casket. How are you standing in front of me? Are you real? Are you really my Evan because I cried on your grave for months and months, and now you’re standing in front of me like nothing is wrong?’”
“‘Of course I am. I don’t know what you’re saying here, Ry. What’s going on?’”
“Her head was shaking back and forth. She was shaking, and the tears were breaking my heart. We were standing in the driveway, and it dawned on me that she was alone.”
“‘Where’s my son?’”
“‘How… How do you even know I had a boy?’”
“‘I’ve seen the pictures, Ry.’”
“Her head popped up so fast I thought it was going to fall off her shoulders. She told me he was in daycare, said that his name was EJ and that he was named after me; I told her that I knew that already. Thing is, I knew everything... well, almost everything. They did fail to mention that
my fiancé had moved on though. Between her confusion and the lack of fanfare, I knew something was up, I just didn’t know the extent.”
I fist my hands into my eyes and wipe angrily at the tears. Her hand presses down on my shoulder softly, and when I pull away there’s a box of tissue waiting for me. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking a few from the box and covering my face. I’ve tried not to think about this day since it happened, and I know it’s necessary to talk about, but it’s painful. Everything about this past week has been nothing but anger and pain.
“DO YOU WANT TO talk about EJ?” she asks. Normally I’d respond with a resounding yes, but right now the answer is no. I feel like I’ve failed my little boy in every way possible. I don’t know how I’m going to sit him down and tell him that Evan is his dad and that Nate is just playing daddy so that he didn’t feel left out at school. We should’ve corrected him when he first called Nate daddy, but we didn’t. We thought this would be a good thing for EJ. We thought giving him a father figure would help ease the pain when he was older and we told him about Evan.
That was our plan from the beginning. We’d sit EJ down when he was older, when he could better understand, and tell him about Evan. Show him pictures of his dad. Tell him stories about how he’s a hero and how proud EJ should be to be named after him. EJ would understand then, but now? Now he’ll be confused and hurt, and it’s my fault.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, leaving the door open for anything. It’s not going to matter what she asks. Everything I tell her about EJ will tear me wide open.
“How old is he?”
“He’s five. He’ll start kindergarten in the fall.”
“Is he excited?”
“He is.” I do something I least expect of myself by pulling out my wallet and showing her a picture of him. He’s standing next to my dad and mom wearing NWU’s like my mom. EJ’s red hair looks shaggy under this cap, but he stands there next to my dad proud to be his mini-me.
“He’s adorable.”
“Thanks,” I say, tucking my wallet back into my purse. “He looks just like Evan. At least I think he does. My mom says he looks like me, but aside from his hair color, he’s all Evan. He acts just like him.”
“I find that surprising considering Nate raised him. You mentioned earlier that the twins are the opposite of each other.”
“I do too. Nate is so calm about everything, whereas Evan was wild. EJ is wild and sometimes out of control, at least for me, but he’s nothing like Nate. EJ wants all the excitement and the reward. He knows if he sets his mind to something the payoff will be there at the end. Even at five, he knows about hard work.”
“Are you afraid he’ll go into the service?”
“No. I know I should be considering… but I’m not. It’s in his blood. I think I’d be more shocked if he didn’t enlist at eighteen.”
The therapist shifts the papers on her desk before leaning back in her chair. “You have a big task on your hands where your son is concerned.”
“I know,” I say, honestly. It’s the one thing that I do know. I don’t care if he’s five or fifteen. He’s not going to understand that his dad is Evan, and when he asks why, what do I say? I’m sorry, we were told he was dead, and expect everything to be okay? I can’t even wrap my head around that at the moment; how’s he supposed to?
“Well, that’s one of the reasons you’re here today. So let me help you. The first thing I’m going to tell you is that it’s not going to matter how you say it, it’ll sound wrong to you because of the pain you’re in. You need to understand that your son is resilient. Yes, he won’t understand at first –“
