Yours Truly, Cammie

It had been that way for the last couple of weeks. Me going to check my email, only to realize yet again that I had deleted it in a full-on drunken rage. That’s why I finally decided to stop being an immature twenty-five-year-old and do something about it. I took four days vacation, and flew to California to visit my father and his wife.

The twins were the highlight of the trip.

The lowlight of this trip was the awkwardness between my father and I, and the plastered smile on Carrie’s face. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Things definitely improved from when my father first picked me up from the airport. I was sweaty and wanted nothing to do with a hug, but he came swooping in for one anyway, with a wrinkled smile on his face.

At first, I was stiff and he lingered for far too long, but after a few seconds, I felt myself relax in his huge grasp. I couldn’t be upset with him forever, and I really couldn’t justify being angry with Carrie. I mean, wouldn’t that make me a major hypocrite? I too, had fallen in love with a married man—so, Carrie and I were kind of the on the same playing field.

She was sweet, too. It would have been even harder to hate her after seeing how adoring she was to Alexandria and Danielle. She was attentive, and with as little sleep as she got with two toddlers running around, she was still always in this happy-go-lucky mood. I was sure, after observing her for the past two days and admiring her effort to make me feel comfortable, that she was truly a nice woman. She was the type of person that wouldn’t even use those pre-made address labels that came from places like The Children’s Hospital (to entice you to donate) because she would feel guilty for not donating in the first place. That’s the kind of person she was, and even though I felt a little guilty admitting it, she was good for my father.

My mom knew I was visiting my dad and his new family and she simply brushed it off, lecturing me through the phone that life was too short and that I deserved to have a relationship with my father, even if she and he didn’t exactly see eye to eye.

She was still in Mexico for the time being, visiting José’s family, for the next several months. She begged me to come visit her soon, since they’d be staying there for a while, and I agreed without hesitation. I would do anything other than sit at home and stare at Luke’s empty house, wondering when Ash would show up again. Or better yet, when he would show up.

Ash hadn’t stopped by since she’d told me she was Luke’s wife, and it was more than likely because she had officially blown and was harboring a beautiful little baby. I couldn’t even hate her because I didn’t know much about their marriage or life. I mean, sure, she’d acted passive-aggressive towards me, but maybe she just thought I was trying to take her man…which I totally had. On accident, that is.

After brushing my teeth and throwing on a cardigan, I walked down the light grey, carpeted stairs in my father’s house towards the direction of Alexandria and Danielle’s small giggles. This house was simply beautiful. They lived on the Marine Corps base, but since my father was so high in his rank, he got to choose from the extremely nice houses. I’d only ever been to California as a child when we were based here for a few years, and the only thing I remembered about it was the beautiful, warm sunshine.

When I arrived a few days ago, I took in the front of the house with skepticism. It wasn’t what I had expected. It was a beige, sandy color, like most of the houses in the neighborhood, but the roof was an orange-ish tint and it appeared to be made out of copper metal. Off to the center of the porch, there was a palm tree that swayed in the late afternoon breeze, and then the rest of the house was made out of greying stones. It was a really pretty home much different from the houses in North Carolina in which I’d lived in most of my life.

The breakfast area was my favorite part of the interior. It was a small nook just to the right of the spacious kitchen, with white walls and a beautiful glass table in the center. It was all very simple, and pretty unmaterialistic except for the flat screen TV mounted on the far wall. I would bet my left arm that my father had had that mounted despite Carrie’s protests. She was a reader, not a big TV watcher like my dad and me.

Walking into the kitchen a bit more comfortably than I had the last few days, I pecked both girls on top of their curly red hair. They got that from Carrie. She had the prettiest red hair that I had ever seen, and she had these beautiful emerald eyes—emerald eyes that only reminded me of a certain someone else with green irises, too. She was stunning and the girls looked just like her, except for their tan skin. That they got from my father.

“Good morning!” Carrie said as she jumped up from sitting with the twins, who were eating pancakes slathered in organic syrup.

She quickly walked over to the coffee maker and started to pour me a cup. I wanted to protest and tell her I could do it myself, but over the last few days she had shooed me away so insistently that I was throwing the towel in on that one.

“Good morning,” I smiled, and peered over at my dad, who was watching the news intently. I took a seat in one of the chairs, embracing its coolness on the back of my thighs.

Inhaling the coffee, I felt at peace. I should have done this a long time ago. I shouldn’t have pushed everyone away after Alex. Family matters…especially when you all carry the same burden.

“How’d ya sleep?” my dad asked, still not taking his eyes off the TV.

I glanced at the screen, feeling a deep pressure grow in my stomach, and then back to his face.

“Really good, actually. That bed is comfy.”

“The girls didn’t keep you up, did they?” Carrie asked, taking a seat beside them again.

I shook my head. “No, why?”

She exhaled, “They’re cutting their molars and barely sleeping. I think they like to tag-team me.” She laughed.

I followed her laughter, glancing at the TV again. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. My dad’s gaze was zeroed in on the screen, too, and that didn’t settle very well with me. I’d seen that look before, and it never boded well.

I took in the scene of the male newscaster, perched behind a shiny table, and allowed myself to actually listen to what he was saying.

“The bombings were severe, some casualties, but of course, we aren’t releasing any names until all families have been notified.”

I tried to search the screen for any indication about where the bombings had occurred, but I couldn’t find the name of the country. It didn’t matter, though. My heart started to climb out of my chest because I knew where the bombings were. I just knew.

“What’s going on?” My dad looked at me briefly and I nodded to the TV.

He rubbed the scruff on his face, then took a sip of his coffee, putting his eyes back on the screen. “There was a pretty hefty bombing in Afghanistan last night.”

I couldn’t hear another word. I think I went deaf. I stared a hole in the side of my father’s head. My back went stiff and my hands laid flat on the glass table. When he turned back towards me, I could see his mouth moving, as if he was telling me more, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

Afghanistan.