She had you.

To be completely honest, Ms. Hudson—and please don’t take offense to what I say next—I didn’t like you. Not at all. I didn’t understand why a mother would let her daughter drink her days away and do nothing to stop it. It wasn’t until you practically kicked my ass and called me out while I stood on your doorstep desperate to see Riley that it finally registered—you’re just like my dad: You do what’s best for your kids, and you love them something fierce.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that no, Riley isn’t now, nor will she ever be… how did you phrase it? “Another notch on my belt.”

Riley gives me a reason to wake up in the mornings.

She gives me hope.

She gives me answers.

She gives me the calm I can’t seem to find anywhere else, not even in my own head.

Yes, I will be going back to Afghanistan to serve my country.

Yes, I will be leaving her at some point.

Yes, I will miss her when I do.

But here’s the thing you may have misjudged about me: The reason for me joining the Marines wasn’t for the money or because it was some sort of family legacy. The reason I didn’t think twice about my answer when you asked if I’d be redeploying is simple:

One day I’d like to get married and have children. Lots of them. (Children, not marriages.) I’d like for my wife and my children to not be afraid to leave their homes or turn on the news at night after dinner and see warzone after warzone and wonder when it is that it’ll all end. I want to wake up in the mornings, our minds clear of hate and racism and injustice and terrorism. I want to kiss my wife, play with my kids, and know that I did everything I could so that we can be together without fear of what will happen when we turn ours backs.

Sure, I wanted all those things pre-Riley, but it wasn’t until I met her that all my reasons—my purpose—had a face.

I’m not saying that I’ll be the one to marry Riley one day (I could be so lucky). I’m just saying that the person Riley is—past, present and future—is the kind of person I’m fighting for. The reason I chose a career that puts my life on the line every day to serve my country.

I just want more, Ms. Hudson.

I want more for your family, and I want more for mine.

Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lance Corporal Dylan Banks.

Thirty-Two

Riley

There are certain things a person does that you don’t actually realize are things until you start missing them. For example: Reach over you to silence your alarm every morning, and then become your personal snooze button. Or switch on the coffee pot while you’re in the shower so it’s ready by the time you got out. Or remember all the occurrences from the night before so you can find where the hell you misplaced your keys. These are all things Dylan did. All things I’d learned in the first half hour of the next day. All things I’d taken for granted now that he was gone.

I even walked to his truck, too preoccupied on my phone, and stood by the passenger door for him to drive me to work. I stood there for a good minute before realizing he wasn’t behind me. I hadn’t even closed the back door.

The days are okay.

The nights are hard.

We’d spent every night for the past five months together so it was difficult getting used to being alone. His friends, or ours, I should say—they message me often to check in on me and make sure that I’m doing fine but my work schedule doesn’t give us a lot of time to catch up. Besides, it’s only been three days. Three days. I finally get what Dylan meant when he said the time is identical for everyone, but at the same time it’s not. Because my version of three days feels like an eternity.

Eric: You bringing home The Bacon tonight?

Riley: Um. What?

Eric: Your dog…

Riley: Oh! Yes, he’s coming home with me.

Eric: Can we visit? Dad and Sydney are here. We’d love to meet him. It’s cool if you’re busy though. Or just want him to get settled. We understand.

Riley: No! Come by! I’d love some company!

Eric: Okay. Should we bring frozen dinners or…

Riley: Lol! Um…

Eric: Jokes. Pizza or Chinese?

Riley: Chinese, please.

Eric: Same order?

Riley: Yes, please.

Eric: Have you heard from him?

Riley: No. :(

Eric: We’ll be over at 6:30.

Riley: See you then!

I get through the rest of the work day, excited to bring home Bacon and hang out with Dylan’s family. I’m only home ten minutes when they knock on my door.

We sit at the table and talk about anything Non-Dylan-Deployment related while Bacon charms the pants off everyone. “We should get a dog,” Mal says.

“We had a dog once, didn’t we?” Eric responds.

Mal shakes his head, his eyes narrowed at his son. “We’ve never had a dog.”

“I’m sure we did. When I was younger. It used to cry and piss and shit everywhere. Oh wait. That was Dylan.”

I choke on a laugh just as there’s another knock on the door. I get up to answer it, but Eric stops me. “I don’t know that I like you on your own answering doors late at night.”

I look at the time. It’s only seven. I tell him that, but he just shakes his head and motions for me to sit. Then he gets up and answers the door for me, speaking over his shoulder when he says, “I’m going to set up a security system in here. Cameras and everything on the outside. Just in case.”