Chapter 31

Goodbyes

Wednesday, July 31

After Dad died there were dozens of phone calls. Closed door meetings. Visits from strangers and friends alike. There was uncertainty. And then there was a resolution.

There was never any question about whether the three of us would return to Iowa, since, according to Mom, Fayetteville held nothing for us. She decided, however, under the Army’s counsel, to wait for Dad’s body to be returned stateside before leaving post. It would be easier, they told her, for everyone involved. In the space between knowing and leaving, we spoke with counselors and met with chaplains, but more than anything else we supported each other. This was especially true on the day I thoughtlessly drove past the Division Headquarters billboard and saw the fatality counter had been reset. Mom found me hours later still parked on the side of the road just beyond the wretched sign.

Dad arrived the following week, and the Army held a small ceremony for him at the main post chapel by the parade grounds. There were soldiers from non-deployed units in attendance as well as other wives and personnel. There was Alice, who lingered nearby with a small but loyal troupe from school. And of course, there was Zander, who surprised me by showing up unexpectedly after changing the date of his flight so he could stand bravely by my side as Mom was presented with my dad’s posthumous awards: his Purple Heart, his Congressional Medal of Honor, and his Bronze Star for acts of valor in combat. As it turned out, after his convoy was attacked, Dad was shot in the back trying to drag a fellow soldier out of the line of fire. Unfortunately, this confirmation of his bravery proved to be of little comfort.

Of all the people in attendance, though, Ashely was the one who ultimately got me through the day. After an emotional prayer from the chaplain, my attention fell to her, staring at the casket, her eyes bleary and bloodshot like my own. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of my father in them, right there, a part of her physical makeup as well as her heart, and I realized he would always be a part of me as well.

Now, as I sit in silence beside Zander on the floor of my empty bedroom, my twin bed, desk, and dresser already loaded onto the moving van, I find myself staring blankly at the new, purple-striped carry-on purchased for the beach which will now travel in the opposite direction back to Iowa.

My door creaks open, startling me from my thoughts as Mom pokes her head into the room. “You guys ready?”

I nod once.

“Okay. We’re leaving in half an hour.”

As she closes the door behind her I choke back what I want to say, which is I am not at all ready to leave. Surprisingly, Mom’s decision to return to Iowa didn’t carry the relief I’d hoped it would. Instead of alleviating some of the pain, it only intensified it. Because despite everything, I’ve made a life for myself here in Fayetteville. Developed friendships. Put down roots. And as I gaze out the window to watch the neighbor boys biking down the street, I admit to myself that what upsets me most about going home is leaving behind the final memories of my dad.

There’s a good chance once I leave Fayetteville, I’m never coming back. I’ll forget the smell of his starched uniforms. The way the short hairs bristled on the back of his head beneath the line of his beret. The black shoe polish stains at the base of his fingernails.

As fresh tears cascade down my cheeks, I find myself crying against Zander’s shoulder not only for the loss of my dad but for the loss of everyone I’m leaving behind. Friends I never knew I needed before I met them. Leaving Iowa, I assumed Zander and I would eventually cross paths again. We’d visit one another and maybe attend college at the same university the way we’d always planned. But Summer, Alice, and Leonetta? There’s a chance I’ll never see them again.

Although my tears should be reserved solely for my dad, I can’t keep my grief over him from spilling into their fonts as well in a giant tidal wave of loss. So many future memories devoid of their presence.

I’m a sniveling, blotchy mess as my door creeks open for the second time. I expect Ashley, who’s taken to crying herself to sleep at the foot of my bed every night, but instead, Alice slips wordlessly into the room. And behind her, Leonetta follows.

I cannot speak. I do not rise to greet them. The sight of Leonetta is too much. Instead, she and Alice drop to the floor, wrapping me in their embrace.

“You’re supposed to be in Jamaica,” I sniffle after my latest round of tears subsides.

Leonetta shakes her head. “No. I’m supposed to be here. With you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I can’t believe I almost missed saying goodbye.”

Her presence is as baffling as it is a relief. “How’d you find out I was leaving?” I ask.

She shares a conspiratorial glance with Alice which expresses an unspoken gratitude. “Alice called my dad who called my mom who insisted I change the date of my returning flight so I could get here in time to see you before you left. That turned out to be much harder than it was for Zander, though. I’m so sorry I didn’t make it back in time for your dad’s ceremony.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

As we sit, lined up together against the wall, I’m reminded of three other women: The Fates— Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. But unlike the Fates who had the ability to shape destinies, I’m acutely aware I’ve had absolutely no control of my destiny over the past year. Every moving piece across the chessboard of my life was decided by chance, not choice. The sale of our farm. Our move to Fayetteville. The new friends I found. My father’s death. It all happened to me, not because of me.

The part I love most about chess is the control. The power you have to plan ahead, influencing the outcome of the game by successfully predicting what moves come next. Life, I am finding, isn’t that way at all. There’s no planning. No predicting. Only adjusting to whatever’s thrown your way in the hopes of making the next to last mistake.

Zander excuses himself to give the three of us a moment alone, leaving me between Alice and Leonetta searching for the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Leonetta says, squeezing my fingers. “He was a really nice guy.”

I look at our hands woven together. The richness of her skin set against the paleness of mine. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. We are completely different and absolutely the same.

“He was,” I say. “He really was.”

Leonetta continues, clearing her throat uncertainly. “Alice told me y’all were moving back to Iowa, but I guess I didn’t figure it would be so soon. I thought maybe we’d have more time together.”

I remember thinking the same thing about my dad, always assuming we’d have more time. It was the same with Zander back in the fall and with Alice and Leonetta now. But I guess that’s the thing about time—it’s tied to Fate, so you never know how much you’re gonna get.

We better make the most of what we have while we have it.

I turn to Alice, then to Leonetta, holding their gaze long enough for them to appreciate the importance of what I’m about to tell them. “I love you guys. You know that. I love you like I’ve never loved any other girlfriends because the truth is, before you, there weren’t any other girls I felt comfortable letting into my life. But the three of you… you taught me what it means to be a friend. A real friend. What it means to have someone else’s back even when life gets hard or messy.”

“Like when triflin’ heifers try to sabotage you at every turn?” Leonetta adds.

“Yes,” I say smiling, “especially then. But more than anything else you taught me people are just people. It doesn’t matter where we’re from or how we grew up because we all want the same things out of life—to be loved and respected and a part of something bigger than ourselves. I didn’t appreciate that before I got here. I didn’t appreciate that before I met you. I thought I was going to be so different from everyone that no one here would understand me or want to get to know me. But that wasn’t the case at all, because despite our differences, we turned out to have lots more in common than I ever imagined we could. A few connective threads bound us together. And that was all it took.”

Alice leans into my shoulder, trembling against it. “We’re gonna miss you, Tess,” she breathes.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” I say past the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry I’m not gonna get a chance to harvest with you this fall.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll send a cotton bouquet to your house. Something to remember me by.”

“And maybe you can come back to visit. Or we can come visit you,” Leonetta adds, her voice wavering.

“I’d like that,” I tell her, but even as the words escape my lips, I fear I may never see her again.

A moment later my mom’s at the door announcing it’s time for us to leave. As we’re saying our final goodbyes, Leonetta takes a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and presses it into my hand. “Love ya, girl,” she says.

We make it to a rest stop in Indiana before I find the courage to open the note.

Eleven Reasons Why We’ll Always Be Best Friends

1. Tell each other the truth, even when it’s hard to hear.

2. Stick up for one another.

3. Force each other to try new things, including Tabasco and chess.

4. Loyal. Faithful. Reliable.

5. Excuse each other’s weaknesses.

6. Champion each other’s strengths.

7. Try to imagine the world from the other’s point-of-view.

8. Never judge one another.

9. Challenge each other to be brave.

10. Fight together against triflin’ heifers.

11. Love each other just as we are.