Marx Girl

It’s pouring rain and my windscreen wipers are going fast.

I put the radio on and concentrate on the road.

Ben loved the rain.

I smile.

We made out against his car in the rain one day, all those years ago, because he wanted to feel the rain on his face.

The song ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran comes on, and I listen to the lyrics as my eyes fill with tears.

Our wedding song.

And suddenly this burning rage fills me. I’m mad. Furious. I punch the steering wheel.

“Why did you leave me?” I cry. “If you were going to leave me anyway, why did you come back?” I can’t see the road anymore through my tears and I pull over.

He didn’t mean to leave me. This wasn’t his choice.

What if he heard that? What if thinks I blame him?

Why did I say that?

I feel guilty and begin to sob, howl-to-the-moon crying. My shoulders bounce up and down.

I screw up my face in pain. “Sorry,” I cry. “I’m so sorry, Ben.” I drop my head to the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry. Why did you die? I can’t do this.”

The passenger door opens, and I look up to see Joshua jump into the car.

He gets how I feel more than anyone. He’s been here.

My eyes search his. “Joshua,” I whisper.

“I know, baby,” he whispers as he wraps me in his arms and holds me. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Destiny is a strange thing.

Six weeks ago, I had a normal life, a job, a future.

Now, I’m a pregnant war widow.

There are no tears left. I’m an empty vessel.

Broken beyond repair.

I’m thinking back to the time with Ben, when I would lie on his chest and he would ask about my day.

He was always all about me, never about him.

Why didn’t I make it more about him?

I go over conversations that we had, and they all seemed to revolve around Ben asking me how I was, asking me what I wanted, desperate to know if I was happy. Did I have what I needed? He never put himself first.

But what did he need from me?

So many regrets.

Is he with me now?

Is he watching over me?

“Show yourself.”

If I can’t have his body, I want his ghost here with me.

“Give me a sign that you’re still with me,” I whisper into the silence.

No answer.

Brock comes in with my phone. “Sis, it’s the army again.”

I roll my eyes and take the phone. Joshua has worked out a funeral plan for me to give them.

“Hello, Mrs. Statham.”

“Yes.”

“This is Commander Jenkins in Syria.”

“Hello,” I whisper.

“I’m afraid I have more news for you.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sitting down?”

My heart skips a beat; the hairs on the back of my neck rise from their slumber to pay attention. “W-Why?”

“He’s alive.”

26

Bridget

“What?” I frown.

“There’s been a terrible mistake. He turned up, alive, at a camp in Syria.”

My heart starts to race. “Wh—?”

“His dog chains were torn from him during an altercation just a few days prior. Another solider retrieved them and had them on him upon his return. That soldier was in the truck with civilians when the landmine hit it. We found the dog chains, and with so many bodies involved, it was assumed Ben was one of them.”

“He’s… he’s alive?” I whisper.

Brock’s face is disbelieving.

“He is, and he’s asked to fly straight to Australia instead of being taken to the States.”

My eyes search Brock’s. “He’s alive,” I repeat.

“Ben will be retuning on an Australian army cargo plane, and his flight should be landing at the Sydney army barracks at approximately eleven hundred hours.”

“Eleven hundred hours,” I repeat. “Sydney army barracks.”

Brock nods as he gets the instructions.

“Is he… okay?” I whisper.

“He’s fine, ma’am. He’s fine. Looking forward to getting home to his family.”

I laugh as tears fill my eyes. After a brief conversation and some goodbyes, I hang up.

“He’s alive!” I cry, and I run out into the living room. “He’s alive!” I scream to everyone.

They all look at me, deadpan, not understanding.

“It’s… it’s true,” Brock stammers. “I heard the whole conversation. Ben is alive.”

The room breaks out in jubilee, and everyone cheers and laughs. Natasha starts to cry and hugs me.

“Fucking Statham,” Joshua snaps. “I’m going to kill that cunt again tomorrow for putting us through this.”

“Joshua!” my mother gasps.

Joshua’s face falls as he realises he just used the C-word in front of his mother-in-law. “Sorry,” he murmurs shamefully.

She laughs. “Get in line, Joshua, get in line.”

I stand on the tarmac and bounce as the plane lands. We’ve been here for half an hour.

Everyone came.

Three carloads.

The hatch slowly winds down, and my heart is in my throat as I wait.

Where is he, where is he?

He comes into view, wearing his full army camouflage, walking down the ramp. I start to run towards him. Slowly at first, and then I run and run, and he laughs, catching me before I knock him off his feet. Ben holds me in his arms.