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I didn’t respond.
He looked out at the horizon. “I shot a twelve-year-old girl. You want to know the sad thing?”
I fought to swallow, and once again, didn’t respond. The silence encouraged him enough to continue. Either that, or he simply needed to say it.
“If I hadn’t shot her, she would have shot me or one of my team members. If I had to do it all over again, I’d do it the same way. Sad, but it’s true.”
“I’m sorry,” I somehow managed to say.
I squeezed his hand for sincerity’s sake.
“So, I came home from the war. I’d been fighting in one place or another for fifteen fucking years, and I was ready to settle down. I tried to get a VA loan for a house.” He turned toward me and shook his head.
“They denied me. The motherfuckers put me in a position where I had to kill a fucking pre-teen girl, then denied my government home loan because I had insufficient credit. Tell me how the fuck I was supposed to get credit when I was busy fighting for this country’s fucking freedom?”
I’m so sorry.
“Anyway. That’s when things went to shit for me.”
He looked away, obviously upset, but not angry. I was upset too, with our government. I turned toward the setting sun, but left my hand on top of his. He didn’t object. Not in the least.
In a few moments, the sky illuminated. It was a glorious display of the most magnificent colors I had ever seen. Slowly, the sun lowered itself into the water.
Together, Navarro and I watched it happen. While we held hands.
On the beach.
