Page 67 of Hero Hair

I do laugh now. “I’m gonna be there until the end,” I whisper, completing his ’90s song by Crystal Waters.

“One thousand percent. Pure,” Macs says, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Love,” I finish.

Macs kisses my forehead and walks out the door. I remember slamming that door a million times when I was a teenager. I remember tilting a chair under the knob to keep my parents out when I had a boy in my room. But I don’t remember ever feeling such pain seeing a back disappear from it. He talks to my mother for a bit. I can hear that through the vents cut into the wooden floor. Macs walks out to his car in the same stride I’ve seen dozens of times before. Slumping to the floor, I kneel, leaving my chin and arms on the windowsill.

Saying goodbye wouldn’t be this hard if I knew when I’d see him again. If I could cross off the days on my calendar like a normal military girlfriend it would be manageable, the pain wouldn’t resonate so deeply, I’m sure. Macs doesn’t look up at my window, and I know it’s a purposeful move to regain some semblance of his other personality. He can be the SEAL. The man who will take care of a nation and serve his country well. He told me he loved me. He asked me to wait for him.

I want to know why the first man I’ve ever loved arrived during a skewed reality, twisted by enemies no one knew existed. It’s the world’s cruel joke. Give Teala what she’s secretly wanted and then snatch it away before she enjoys it too much. I place my hand against the glass and peek through my fingers at his car disappearing down the drive. Even as I dwell with this agony, I hate myself for succumbing to the dramatics of it all. I did the same thing when my father left. If I’m being honest, the hollow feeling inside my bones feels the same way.

I turn on the clock radio on my nightstand and scroll through the stations until I find a clear news station broadcasting the attacks. I turn the volume down and slide under my covers. I want to fall asleep hearing the atrocities that stole him away. The irony of where I’m at and what has happened isn’t lost. I resolve to stay in this bed until I can put on a strong front for my mom.

For myself.

But mostly for him. And it’s not the him you think.