Lany
I'd always thought that there were times in
life when clarity suddenly hit a person and you realized that life was one
fucked up mess after another. This was one of those times, and it was a mess
of epic proportions.
"I don't want to do this."
"I know, caro," Sal said, "but you have
to."
I sniffled and wiped at my runny nose. "Why
does he have to go half way across the country? Why can't he just stay here
and go to the university?"
Sal, my husband and my reason for living,
wrapped his arms around me and lifted me onto his lap before pressing my head
to his wide chest. "You know why, Lany. This is what TJ wants and we have to
support him in it."
"But he's just a baby," I insisted.
"He's eighteen, love. He's not a baby anymore.
He's graduated from high school and everything."
He had probably never had been a baby. He'd
had to grow up really fast. I knew that. It didn't mean my heart wasn't
breaking at the thought of TJ leaving home.
I was shattered.
"There's going to be no one there to watch
over him."
Sal snorted.
The bastard.
"Lany, the entire Marine Corps will be there
to watch over him."
"What if he gets hurt?"
"He's not going to get hurt."
"He could," I insisted. I was speaking from
experience. I was well acquainted with all of the different ways someone could
get hurt.
There were a lot of them.
Sal's hand brushed the side of my head as he
pushed my hair back from my face. "Caro, he's going to be fine. Yes, he
could be hurt, but as we all know, he could be hurt walking across the room."
I frowned. Deeply. "I haven't tripped over a
rug in ages."
It had been at least a week.
"Lany, love, you have to let him grow up."
That was debatable.
"Sal." Yes, I was whining, but come on. We
were talking about one of my kids moving away from home for the next few
years. They could ship him anywhere in the world and I had no control over it.
I couldn't simply reach out to talk to him, to hug him, to let him know he was
the light of my life.
How in the hell did parents do this?
"I know it's not going to be easy for you,
caro, but you have to let him go. He needs time to find himself. We're not
always going to be here and he needs to know he can stand on his own two
feet."
"You know I hate you, right?"
Sal chuckled before planting a kiss on my
temple. "I know, love."
I didn't really hate him. I could never hate
Sal. He'd been the love of my life since the night we met. I just hated that
he sounded so calm and reasonable when I was falling apart. "I don't think I'm
ready for our kids to grow up."
"I don't think any parent is, Lany."
And we had to do it six times.
It wasn't fair.
"TJ needs this, Lany. He needs to know he can
stand on his own two feet."
"I know," I groaned.
"He needs us to support him in his decision to
join the service. You know he won't go if you tell him not to."
I groaned again. "I can't do that."
As much as I hated—loathed—the idea of TJ
going away to join the service, I couldn't nip his bid for freedom and
adulthood in the bud. I remembered how much I had fought against the
restraints my own parents had put on me and realized I owed them a huge
apology
I had put them through hell.
I lifted my head and glanced at Sal. "Do you
think my parents went through this with me?"
"I'm sure they did."
"Man, I need to call them and apologize."
Sal chuckled.
I frowned. "How are you handling this?" I
realized that Sal was the glue holding me together, but who was holding him
together? This was his son, too.
I knew Sal took my question seriously because
he didn't answer me right away.
"There's a part of me that is thrilled that TJ
wants to join the Marines. It helped make me into the man I am today and I
hope it will do the same for him. TJ has a good head on his shoulders, he's
smart and cautious. The Marines can hone the boy he is into a good man."
"And the other part?"
"Scared to death." Sal chuckled again, but it
had a more rueful sound to it this time. "He's my boy, my oldest child. I want
to protect him from the world and it's really hard to do that if he's not here
where I can protect him."
Glad I wasn't the only one.
I sighed as I laid my head back down on Sal's
massive chest. "He really wants this?"
"He does."
My sigh grew heavier, deeper. "I don't know if
I can act happy, Sal. I want to be happy for him, but..." I shook my head. "I
know he's technically an adult, and he certainly grew up faster than he should
have, but it feels as if we just got him and now he's leaving."
"He's not leaving forever, caro. Just a
little while, and he'll call and video chat and come home to visit as often as
he can. And this isn't really isn't forever. It's just three years."
I sniffled again. "Three years is a really
long time."
Possibly forever.
Sal patted my hip, which I kind of enjoyed. I
always enjoyed when Sal touched me, any part of me. "It'll go quicker than you
think."
That was debatable. I was pretty sure I would
be able to count every second that TJ was gone. "When does he leave?"
"Not for another couple of weeks."
"That soon?"
"Yeah, the Marines move pretty quickly."
That was not a plus.
I drew in a heavy breath and then heaved it
out. "Okay, so can we have a going away party for him? Do we get to drop him
off at the airport? Can I have his commanding officer's phone number so I can
call and check on him? I mean, how does this work?"
"Yes, no, and hell no."
I lifted my head and glared.
Sal laughed. "Yes, we can have a going away
party for him. He'd probably enjoy that. No, we cannot drop him off at the
airport. We drop him off at the recruiting center. The Marines will ship him
off from there. And there is no way in hell you are getting his commanding
officer's number."
My glare deepened. "Why not?"
"Because you'd be calling him every five
minutes."
That was probably true.
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