You’re it for me.

Jackson

How can someone hurt so much? The depths of my heart are hollow, my eyes are burning from the onslaught of tears. I feel like I’ve been torn apart and when I was put back together, they forgot some pieces. But I won’t quit my job. I can’t walk away from this opportunity, and we can’t work. So it’s my turn to save him. Allow him to move on with a clean break.

I know when I see him today, I’ll have to put on the show of my life. If I thought the launch party was difficult, this will be a thousand times worse.

I should’ve left the damn cards unopened. But I couldn’t.

So today I’ll somehow handle looking at the man who’s no longer mine. The one who forced me to love again, to give my heart to him—then forced me to be alone. He’s gone from my life and I can’t get him back. I have to let him go—for good.

I’ll need a miracle to get through this.

He took everything from me with that damn letter.

“You ready?” Mark asks from behind me. He’s wearing his full dress uniform, white gloves and all.

With a little help I was able to get my dress blues on. The only time I’ve worn this uniform since I got out was for the last team member we lost a few months ago. I hate how once again I’m putting it on for the same reason. In fact, this is pretty much the only time I wear it. I’m going to fucking burn it after this, and then maybe we’ll stop having to go to funerals.

I straighten my belt and huff. I can’t do this. I can’t bury another friend. “Fuck. I can’t do this. Just go without me,” I say looking away.

Next thing that registers is his fist connecting with my bad shoulder.

“What the fuck?” I ask while trying to get rid of the stinging in my arm.

“You’re going. I’ll punch you in the fucking face if you even try to say it again. You shut your mouth and listen. Maybe when you were taking your little nap you didn’t hear me, maybe your tiny brain can’t retain it, but I’ve had enough of your goddamn bullshit. You’re going! I swear to fucking God you’re going today,” Mark rages and runs his hand down his face.

I’ve never seen him so pissed—well, not at me at least. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Of course not! You weren’t the only one in that village, asshole. You weren’t the only one who watched Aaron go and handle the issues in Afghanistan that either one of us could’ve dealt with. You didn’t fucking go to Natalie and tell her that her husband was dead. No, fucker, I did that. I had to knock on her door, catch her in my arms as she lost it. So kiss my fucking ass.”

“Keep it up, dickhead,” I warn.

He turns as if I didn’t say anything and mocks me, “‘I’m not going.’ My fucking ass you’re not. You’re not the only one who’s ever lost anyone!” he yells and punches the door. “I fucking lost them too! They were my friends too, Muff. You aren’t the only one who lives with guilt!” Mark chokes on the last part.

“I know that!” I yell back at him. “But I sent them to their deaths! I live with this every fucking day.”

“You still don’t get it. We were a fucking team. I left the Navy after you did because where you go, I go. I followed because you, me, and Aaron—we’re a team.” Mark balls his fists up and steps toward me. “You aren’t the only one in this team. I’ve watched every single fucking one of them die. I watched you die too, you son of a bitch.” He points his finger and jabs me in the chest. I push him back away from me. And he stumbles.

“Don’t fucking push me,” I say strained.

“You want to fight me? Today? You want me to fucking lay you out?” Mark says taunting me and throwing his hands up.

“Fuck you!” I don’t want to fight him but he’s about to push me there.

“No, fuck you! I’m not sitting around acting like I’m the only person who suffers. It’s what the job is. You know this. I know this. When we became SEALs we knew we could die but it’s what we lived for. Losing him though—he wasn’t supposed to die.”

The words I want to say to him won’t come out. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t. He’s lost as many friends as I have. As much as I want to say something, he’s right. Mark and Aaron worked together every day. They spent more time together than I did in the last year while I was cleaning up my mess of a life.

After a few minutes of us pissed off with our fists ready to strike, we both take a step back. “He was a brother to me,” he says. I look up and he shakes his head. “He was a better man than me or you. He didn’t deserve to die.”

“I know. It should’ve been me,” I say, feeling devoid of any emotion.

“It shouldn’t have been any of us.”

“I don’t ever want to wear this uniform again,” I say, fixing my jacket from the near fight with Mark.

He looks over and grips his neck. “I’m tired of attending these funerals. The next one I plan to go to is my own. And I won’t give a fuck what you wear.”

There are times when I wish we were back eight years ago, young, dumb, and ignorant to the world around us. We thought we were invincible. Who the fuck was going to bring down a group of SEALs? No one. We lived in this idealistic world that we could live dangerous and not pay for our sins.

We weren’t married, no kids, just money to burn and tails to chase. The missions were, in our minds, fun. The deployments were what we looked forward to. I couldn’t wait to be away, because Virginia was fucking boring.

“Dude, I—” I start to say but he cuts me off.

“Not today, Muff.” He shakes his head. “I’ll kick your ass another day, but not today. Come on, let’s go.”

Today is going to be hard on everyone, but especially Mark.

We get to the funeral site without further incident. I’m able to put pressure on my leg now as long as I use a crutch, but today I won’t be using it. I’ll stand through the pain because it will be my reminder. I’ll fight through the hurt because Aaron deserves it.

There’s a tent set up, and Natalie and her family are sitting while the color guard stands guard of the urn. There are a few of the team guys here along with some of their wives. I say hello to everyone and stand off in the back.

Natalie comes over to me hesitantly. “Jackson, thank you for doing all this.” She bites her lip and a tear falls.

“Nat, you don’t owe me anything.”

She gives a sad smile. “Aaron loved you like a brother.”

I ball my fists and stand up taller, “I’m sor— ”

Natalie puts her hand on my arm and cuts me off. “Don’t you dare say it. You didn’t kill him. I hate everyone telling me they’re sorry because I can bet you a thousand dollars if it were you or Mark, he would wish it was him.”

Her mother comes up behind her and hands her Aarabelle. She’s a beautiful baby with dark hair and Natalie holds her close. Natalie turns to me while I gaze at the tiny infant in her arms. “I have a piece of him,” she says as she rocks back and forth.