Surrender (18 page)

Elsie set the car in park and looked over at me. “It's just the nature of love. It will set your heart racing right before it rips it right out of your chest.”

“I no longer want any part of that.”

Elsie let out a soft chuckle. “That's the thing, though. You have absolutely no choice in the matter.”

The months sped by. Between work, school, soccer, and dance, Will and I were so busy that we barely had time to kick back and relax. But it was a good kind of busy, the kind that gave me very little chance to think about my life, very little chance to miss those I'd lost.

Neal and I kept our ends of the bargain—he didn't contact me and I stayed well away from news on his unit. Ignoring the coverage on our troops overseas was easy; the difficult part was not knowing what he was doing, if he was okay. I'd asked him not to contact me in hopes that I could pretend he didn't exist, that if I didn't know anything about his life there, I would never have to spend a single second worrying about his safety.

I wished I could say it was working, but the truth was that I could no sooner pretend he didn't exist than I could cut off my own arm. He was there in my thoughts almost every second of the day, his smile always present when I closed my eyes. Each time the phone or the doorbell rang, I expected it to be news of his death. I didn't know how military spouses did this year after year. It seemed to me like you'd just go crazy with worry after a while.

I was better off without him. My brain knew it; someday my heart would, too.

—

“Hey, wake up!”

I yanked the blanket up over my head with a groan. My chances of sleeping in were apparently slim to none.

“Mom!” Will cried. He tried tugging on the covers, but I held firm. “Wake up! It's your birthday!”

Finally, I groaned and let go, sneezing when the sunlight hit me directly in the face. I sat up, brushing hair away from my face. “It's so early, Will.”

“I made you breakfast,” he said, proudly setting a tray on my lap.

“Well, thank you,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. I looked over the contents of the tray: toast with Nutella, two waffles, a half glass of orange juice, and a tiny vase with several stalks of yellow dandelions in it. “You did this all by yourself?”

“Yup!” he said, beaming. “I toasted the bread and the waffles and put Nutella on the toast all by myself. I spilled some orange juice on the floor but I wiped it up with the sponge.”

I nibbled on the toast and then held it out for him. “Thank you, sweetheart. This is the best birthday breakfast ever in the history of the world.”

He took a big bite, getting the spread on his cheeks. “I wanted to make you cake, but I didn't know how.”

“Well, maybe we can cook some later, then,” I said, wiping at his cheeks with my thumbs. He settled in beside me and we turned on the TV, flipping to a cartoon channel.

“I don't want to watch cartoons,” he said, reaching for the remote control. “I want to watch something you like.”

“Why? I thought you liked
Transformers
.”

“Because it's your birthday,” he said. “Duh.”

I chuckled, tickling his side. “When did you get so ornery?”

“The day I was born,” he said through his giggles.

We spent another hour in bed watching reruns of my favorite dance competition show before we went downstairs still in our pajamas and attempted to bake a cake from scratch, with mixed results. The cake itself turned out fine but Will didn't wait long enough before starting to ice the cake and it melted almost immediately.

“Oops,” Will said, trying to fix it and making it worse.

I grabbed a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and put it on the counter. “Don't worry. It'll still taste good,” I said, putting a scoop of ice cream into two bowls with a generous slice of cake each. “Lunch is served,” I said with a flourish of the hand.

Will's mouth dropped open. “We can't eat this for lunch!”

I laughed. “I'm the mom
and
the birthday girl and I say this makes the perfect lunch!” I lifted him off the stool and spun him around.

We froze when the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be?” I asked, setting him down, my heart inexplicably pounding in my chest.

Will took off for the front door before I could recover. “Mom!” he called out. “Mom! Quick!”

I don't know how I made it to the front door in my state of apprehension. But when I reached my son, I found him holding a rectangular box and nothing else.

“The mailman just left this!” Will said, handing me the box.

I looked through the open doorway before closing the door.

“It's from Neal,” Will said, setting the box on the floor and starting to rip into the clear tape.

“Hold on, that's my gift.” I nudged him out of the way and sat cross-legged beside the box, reading over the sender's APO address to be sure. I ripped open the tape and found another, fancier box inside. The box contained white tissue paper wrapped around a mint-colored dress and a card with a small hand-drawn bird on it.

Julie,

At 4:30 Stacy is coming over to pick up Will for the night, giving you a chance to get ready and make your 5:30 reservation at the Joule Hotel, where something special awaits.

I hope you like it. Happy birthday.

Neal

“What does it say?” Will asked with wide eyes.

I looked over calmly despite the rapid thrumming in my chest. “A surprise.”

—

At four thirty, Will sat at the foot of the stairs with his backpack and sleeping bag by his feet as he stared holes in the door. He jumped up when the doorbell rang.

“Happy birthday!” Stacy said as soon as I opened the door. She threw her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “Are you ready for your birthday surprise?”

I bit my lower lip. I'd tried to keep the hopeful little bubble from getting too inflated all afternoon, but I didn't know how successful I'd been, since I'd pretty much worried my lower lip raw. “What is it, Stacy? I
need
to know what's waiting for me.”

Stacy gave me a mysterious look. “I can't tell you. I promised Neal that I wouldn't tell.”

“And how are you in contact with him anyway?” I asked, smacking her playfully on the arm. “You never told me that.”

She chuckled. “Well, he's been e-mailing me, asking about you. You made him promise not to contact you, so he checks in with me to see how you're doing.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because he asked me not to.” She picked up the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “So anyway, I need to leave you to get all gussied up. Wait—did the dress fit?”

“Yes,” I said, and narrowed my eyes. “Was that your doing, too?”

“No, he ordered it. I just told him what size to get.”

I hugged her again. “Thank you. You're so amazing. You've been there for me every time I needed you.”

“Anything for you, Jules. And don't even act like you don't return the favor. For a single mom, you do your share of babysitting, too.”

“Not nearly enough.”

She smiled and waved me away. “Just go do your girly things. Epilate, do your hair, put on makeup. Look fab for tonight.”

Before she left, I gave her a warm embrace, buoyed by the realization that I was truly blessed. The past thirty years had been rocky, but at the end of the day, I was still privileged enough to have an abundance of love and friendship in my life. And really, that was all I could ask for.

At 5:20 I drove up to the Joule Hotel, deciding that turning thirty was the perfect reason to use the valet service. When I walked inside the hotel lobby, I was immediately thrown back by the casual opulence of the place.

“Now what?” I looked around and, not knowing what else to do, walked up to the reception desk, which sat behind a partial wall of huge metal cogs and gears.

“Hi. I'm not sure where to go. I was told to meet someone here,” I said to the young man there.

“What's your name?”

“Julie Keaton.”

The clerk smiled, all white teeth and dimples. “Ah, Miss Keaton. You are expected at the top floor, poolside.”

I thanked him for not calling me “ma'am” and made my way to the elevators, gripping the strap of my purse and smoothing down the front of my dress. Once the doors opened at the top floor, I found the signs toward the pool and followed them.

“Surprise!”

I walked out onto the open-air pool deck, shocked to find dozens of people crowding around me. Behind them was the pool, glowing blue from underwater lights, and tables flanking its edges set up with an array of food.

Will was first to greet me, throwing his arms around my waist. “Happy birthday, Mom!”

“Did you know about this?” I asked, pinching his nose.

“No. Miss Stacy told me about it later,” he said, taking my hand and leading me into the grinning crowd.

I went around, hugging and thanking guests for the wonderful surprise; all were friends and acquaintances I'd made in Dallas. Finally I arrived at Stacy, who laughed before giving me a big hug. “Did you have any idea?” she asked.

“No. This was sneaky,” I said, giving her shoulders a shake. “You and Neal arranged this?” I asked, only now noticing the bar set up in one corner, complete with a bartender. Behind him, the city lights of Dallas lit up the skyline. “You went all out.”

“Neal paid for everything. All I did was make sure it all went according to plan.”

“Nobody has ever thrown me a surprise party before,” I said, taking in the gorgeous view of the city. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Stacy's eyes twinkled as she held me at arm's length, looking over the dress. It was sleeveless and had a gauzy skirt that ended right above my knee and flowed whenever I moved. “That dress looks fabulous. Come on, let's go ring in your thirties.”

—

Later on in the night, Stacy looped her arm in mine and whispered, “Neal has something else for you.”

“Okay.” With breath held, I followed her toward the interior door.

“Hold on.” She ran inside and came back holding something behind her back.

I looked around her, expecting and hoping, when she presented me with a black shoe box.

“Did you buy me shoes?”

She grinned. “I'll leave you to it.”

Once alone, I opened the box and found a neat pile of folded papers tied together with a piece of twine. “Oh.”

—

Later, as the party was starting to wind down, I took off my shoes and sat down by the pool, dangling my feet in the water. I stared down at the box in my lap, at odds with myself. My brain was warning me not to tug on that piece of twine, because no doubt, I, too, would come undone. But here in my lap was proof that Neal was alive, that he was okay and thinking of me.

I could give in and read every single letter, or I could put that lid back on and keep it all boxed away, like I'd done for the past few months.

“There you are,” Stacy said, sitting down next to me. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. I'm good.”

She nudged my shoulder. “Come on, Jules. You're not exactly a vault of mystery. I can tell you're not enjoying your own birthday party.”

I gave her a sad smile, finally dropping the facade.

“So what's wrong?” she asked. Then she whispered, “Is it because you turned thirty?”

I let out a surprised chuckle. “No, it's not that.”

“Because I have to tell you, it's not that bad. I don't feel a day over twenty-five.”

I set the box aside and looked around at the rest of the party guests. “I guess I was just hoping Neal was here.”

Stacy gasped. “You didn't think he was going to show up and surprise you, did you?”

“Yeah. I kind of did.”

“That was never in the plan,” she said, patting my shoulder. “I'm sorry if I got your hopes up.”

“It's not your fault. Really. I don't know why I'd expect him to be here when he's deployed. It's not like they can just come and go whenever it suits them.”

She kicked her feet in the water for a few seconds, then said, “You know what, though, for someone who's no longer your boyfriend, Neal sure went to a lot of trouble to make sure you had a good birthday.”

“I know. He's too sweet for his own good. That's what I love about him.” I took a deep breath. “I think I've made a mistake, Stacy.”

“About?”

“I thought breaking up with him would make it easier, and maybe it has in some ways. But it's harder in so many other ways. It drives me crazy that he's free to date anyone he wants to and I can't do anything about it. Hell, I won't even know about it. I don't even know how he's doing, if he's happy. I feel like he's slipping away with every month that passes, and by the time he comes back, I'm afraid he'll be a complete stranger.”

Stacy said nothing. She sat beside me and listened, waiting for me to talk through my thoughts.

“And I thought that's what I wanted, until tonight. Until I looked at the group of people around me and realized that his face was the one I wanted to see most.”

“Well, you know what they say: admitting the problem is the first step to finding a solution.”

“So what's the solution?”

Stacy gave me a look of disbelief. “Julie, you're my friend so I say this with love: stop acting dumb. You already know what you need to do, you're just not brave enough to do it.”

I let out a sad chuckle. “You're right. I need to just get over it. It's not like I'm the one whose ass is on the line. I won't be there in the war zone fighting or defending or whatever. All I'll be doing is waiting at home, hoping he's safe,” I said. “But in so many ways, to be the one left at home is so much worse.”

Stacy touched my hand. “But is he worth waiting for?”

—

In the quiet of my room later that night, I untied Neal's letters and set them out on my lap. I unfolded every one and arranged them in chronological order by the date at the top of each; by the time I was done, a sea of words lay on the bed before me.