“Everyone is trying,” I tell her with a smile, thankful that my mother-in-law has been able to step in and help.
“I’ll check on the sandwich while Sebastian is hogging the bathroom!” Mel screams the last part so loud I wince. Then she heads downstairs, missing the soft sound of her brother laughing at her.
“Sebastian, you have five minutes, buddy. All you need to do in there is brush your hair and your teeth. Doesn’t take more than that.”
“Okay, Mom!”
He’s eleven and this is really just to irritate his sister. I love my kids, but I really hoped to have today go smoothly.
It’s their first day of school in Sugarloaf. They’ve met a few kids over the years when we visited Sylvia and Dennis, but it’s all uncharted for them here. Typically, a new school is no big deal, but this time felt different because we had left military life behind. There was camaraderie between military kids. They understood how hard it was to be the new kid, year in and year out, and tended to be more welcoming.
Now, they’re going to a place where these kids have known each other their whole lives.
Not even thirty seconds later, he’s standing at my door. “Do I match?”
I look at him, dark brown hair just like his father’s and that grin that is impossible to resist. Then I look at his attire and groan. “I thought you and Grandma laid your clothes out last night?”
“We did.”
Oh, Jesus. “And that’s what you want to wear for your first day?”
“Granny said it had character.”
I snort. It has more than that. “Sebastian, sweetheart, that doesn’t match. Go put on the pair of new jeans I bought you.”
“What about the shirt?”
This is not the hill I want to die on, so I say, “If you like it, I think it’s great.”
My mother-in-law has a thing for loud colors and animal print. If it has stripes or spots, she owns it and wears it. I am nothing like that, but she and Sebastian bonded over it years ago, prompting her to help him, “Dress to own the world.” If he likes the shirt, I am not going to stop him.
A boy named Bruce or Troy or God-only-knows-what with fists the size of watermelons will probably have something to say about it, but Sebastian has long since tried to make people like him. He’s a sweet boy who loves to make us smile and constantly entertains us with jokes or music. He writes songs, plays the guitar, and has straight A’s. I couldn’t be any prouder of him if I tried.
“I wish Dad were here.”
“Me too.”
“He would’ve liked the shirt.”
I fight back the tears that threaten to form. “He would’ve bought a matching one.”
One thing that Luke didn’t have was fashion sense, but he loved trying to give Sebastian the confidence to wear what he wanted. If he—a big bad navy fighter pilot—would wear a zebra shirt, then Sebastian would too.
“Do you think he’s in heaven watching me today?”
“I would bet all my dollars.”
Sebastian’s face falls slightly. “I miss him.”
I give him a soft smile, one that is a signature. It says, I understand, I wish it were different, but I can’t fix this. “I know you do, but it’s a good thing that we’re in this town with Granny and Pawpaw, right?”
He nods, but I can see the disappointment. “Yeah.”
“It’s not the same, though,” I tack on. There’s nothing that will make this better for any of us, and trying to give him false hope is only going to make it worse.
We are alone.
We’re no longer the Allens, a family of four. We’re just three of us, down a spoke on the wheel that will never be mended.
I lost the man I love and the father of my children because of a mechanical failure. So many apologies. So many nights spent crying, wondering how our life would be if he hadn’t reenlisted three months before that.
If only he hadn’t let me down.
If only he’d loved me enough not to go to work that day like he promised.
If only . . .
But only is a dream that I can never have because reality took him from us, and now, we only have each other.
“No, but I have you.”
“Always.”
Sebastian rushes forward, arms wide, and I pull him tight. His hugs are the best. They’re full of warmth and love.
He lifts up onto his toes, kisses my cheek, and hugs me tighter. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
Melanie comes back up. “Crisis averted.”
I laugh. “Thank you, Mel.”
She shoulders past Sebastian and darts into the bathroom. “Jerk.”
My son rolls his eyes. “Sisters.”
As they get themselves ready, I head to my bathroom, dressing in a pantsuit that I hope says hip but still professional. Working as the district counselor will be a huge change of pace from what I’m used to. In California, I was in a rough area. The kids I dealt with needed help in all areas of their lives, from escaping drugs, gangs, and abuse to passing SATs and applying to colleges. My days were never boring, and I loved helping everyone who entered my office.
Mrs. Symonds, the principal here, laughed and told me to prepare for days where I’d be searching for problems to solve.
I’m still excited and ready for any challenge that comes my way.
The kids meet me downstairs, backpacks slung over their shoulders, and I can feel the tension in the air. “You guys ready?”
They nod. Our house has very deep-seated traditions for the first day of school, and I’d like just one damn thing to be the same for them. They file into the room, pushing the other out of the way as they try to win the implied race.
“Move, squirt.” Mel’s voice is hushed.
“You move! You’re stupid.”
Oh, siblings. “Both of you stop.”
“She hears everything,” Sebastian says with wonder.
“Yes, I do. Now, stop being buttheads and let’s have our cake.”
They come into the kitchen area and grab a plate. This was something Luke and I came up with after our first duty station change. On that first day, we have cake for breakfast. It’s a celebration of the wishes we want to make. Even though this isn’t a first-first day of school, it’s a first for us in Pennsylvania, and we’re going to count it. Plus, cake has eggs, and eggs are a breakfast food. Sure, the sugar, oil, and frosting negate anything healthy, but I don’t care.
Each slice has a candle, and in order for the wish to be put out in the world, it must be spoken aloud.
“Melanie, you go first.”
She lifts the cake, staring at the flame. “I hope this year I get all A’s and I finally get a boyfriend.”
Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, right. No boys are going to want to go out with you. You don’t even wear makeup.”
“Sebastian!”
He shrugs.
Oh, I don’t have enough strength for this.
She glares at him and then blows her candle out.
“You’re next, Mom.”
I hope this year I don’t fall apart.
They don’t need to hear that. Instead, I bring the cake up and wish for something that might actually happen. “I hope this year gives us new friendships, lots of laughter, and we love our new home.”