Your daddy got all pissed off, of course. He hates dirt and disorder, and he’s sure the pup will chew the furniture and leave hair all over and soak the carpet with pee. But I’m going to keep her. Some things are worth fighting to hold on to. We’ll give her bones to gnaw and vacuum the hair and take her outside to do her business. After only two days, she’s almost housebroken already, like she wants to make us happy.
Between Boo, Tati, and you, this is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. I wish it could be the four of us together, somewhere—anywhere—besides North Carolina. It’s not the state I hate. It’s the call to war, and it’s coming soon, though it’s supposed to be all hush-hush. Ha. Like you can be immersed in army life and not understand the focus on deployment.
You don’t know this, but your daddy’s a whole lot older than I am. I didn’t want to marry a total grunt. I set my sights on a soldier who’d been in ten years or more, and Daddy joined up at twenty. He’d already been to the Middle East for Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield, so when I met him, his rank was E-5. I know that means nothing to you, but to me it meant a decent monthly paycheck, at least if you figured in benefits and base housing. I never thought about another war, and it’s almost here.
But Santa is coming soon, so we’ve put up a tree. We can’t afford lots of ornaments, so I bought a few and made a whole lot more. Who knew your mommy was crafty? Tatiana knew, that’s who. It’s not like you care that popcorn strings circle the tabletop pine instead of tinsel. You love the little twinkling lights, and seeing you smile at them makes everything else worthwhile.
Right now you and Boo are napping together on a big quilt spread across the floor. Both of you are snoring, and that makes Tati laugh. I love the way she laughs. It reminds me of times we spent together when we were still in high school. I dropped out so I could escape my mom, but Tatiana stayed, and now she’s at the University of Texas in Austin. She wants to be a teacher.
Tati says I can get my GED and go to college, too, that she’ll help me figure it out. We’re going to make a secret plan because your daddy wouldn’t support me in this. He’s happy with me making minimum wage at the commissary.
But here’s the thing, my beautiful angel. That’s not good enough. Not for me, and definitely not for you. I don’t have to give you the universe, but I want to share the world with you. One day we’ll travel to Paris together, and to Rome, and Japan and Argentina, or wherever you have the hankering to see. (One day I’ll quit using words like hankering. There’s still too much Texas in me.)
Allow me to revise. One day you and I will travel wherever your heart desires. (Yes, much better, if a little cliché.) Until then, I’m making plans, and our dear auntie Tati is coaching me. It might sound like I’m being selfish, but everything I’m striving for revolves around you. Okay, we can include Boo, too.
Funny, but I’ve never owned a dog, though I always wanted to. One time I begged my mom to let me keep a stray who found me on the playground. She took it to the pound, which pretty much sums up the way Mom felt about suffering creatures, despite claiming to be a caring Christian. (In case you’re wondering, Scientology has nothing to do with God.)
But we’ll take extra-good care of Boo to make up for that, and I don’t give a darn what your daddy says. Next to you and Tati, that little pup means everything to me. I wish every person in the world had a beautiful child, a lovable dog, and a stellar best friend to love. That would be the merriest Christmas ever.
December 2001
What has he done? Where have you gone? How could he do this? To you? To me? Maybe he’ll change his mind. Bring you back. How can I find you? Why would he take you away from me? I’m your mommy. You’re my baby. He’s ripped me in two.
I was doing just what he asked, working cash registers at the commissary, when your daddy picked you up from daycare. Told Miss Paula he was taking you to visit your grandparents. He loaded you in the car and drove away without saying a word. He took my puppy, too.
I went by Miss Paula’s after work, like I always do, but you weren’t there. I didn’t know about any trip. I got scared and hurried home. But you weren’t here, either. The house was empty, Casey. No Jason. No Boo. No you. Just a note on the dresser where your clothes used to be, bragging that I’d never see you again. I gave a copy to the investigators, but I’ll put the original here in your book, where it will be safe.
See, your daddy was supposed to deploy to Afghanistan in a week. For such a big, tough guy, he was freaking out, even though as a mechanic he probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the front lines. I think his whole excuse for running off was nothing but a lie, no matter how close to truth some of it might have been.