SNIPPET ONE - WAR STORY
Taken from a film script and adapted into a novel.
Taken from a film script and adapted into a novel.
The morning had always been a blur to Junior. That morning was particularly tough on him. His muscles ached from the day before, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Yet, he prevailed, lifting his body out of bed, heading to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he reappeared looking neat and fresh.
“I’m starving,” he called through the house. “What you got for us today?”
Junior pulled open the door to the fridge and the bottles inside rattled loudly. He waited for his dad’s voice, reprimanding him for not being gentle enough, but he heard nothing. The egg carton caught his attention. That morning there were only two eggs. Small changes like that, in what had been a pretty set routine up until that point, were what put him even more on edge that morning.
He walked quietly to his father’s room, checking every part of the house that he passed for any glimpse of the man.
“Dad?” he asked, waiting for a response.
Nothing.
“Dad?” he called, louder. Still, no voice called back to him. So he pushed open the door to his father’s bedroom, hoping with everything in him that his father had just left to buy eggs, and was running later than usual.
Instead of an empty room, he found his father lying in bed, still.
“Dad?!” Junior called, his voice shaking with unease.
Still, his father didn’t respond. He didn’t move, either.
Junior walked up to his father’s bed side. Everything in the room felt heavy and the air was thick in his lungs. He knew that something had to be wrong. His father was a military man, he would never have slept through any of the noise he’d been making. With a shaking hand, Junior reached forward and shook his father’s body.
No movement.
“Dad!” Junior yelled, shoving his father as hard as he could.
“Dad!”
***
Dave was doing his best to be calm as he and Junior approached the hospital doors. He had no idea what he was going to do. All he could do was pray that it wasn’t true, that Junior had made a mistake and Fred was actually perfectly fine.
The doctor was already waiting for them as they made their way down the hallways. Dave knew that it wasn’t a good sign. He reached out and placed his hand over Junior’s shoulders, hoping it could give him at least some small ounce of comfort.
“Are you related to Fred Windsor?” the doctor asked as they approached.
“Yes, sir,” Junior answered. “I’m Fred Windsor Junior.”
The doctor let out a sigh, and his eyes began to mist over. Blinking rapidly, he shoved away the tears that threatened him and steeled himself for the conversation ahead.
“Well son, we believe you father had a brain aneurism. He must have passed away in his sleep early this morning. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, gripping the edges of his clipboard so tight that his knuckles turned white.
The doctor made a feeble attempt at comforting Junior by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before disappearing back into the hospital room. Although it was hard to believe, it was the truth. Fred, a man who had seemed so indestructible, was dead.
It took every ounce of control that Dave had left to keep it together. He wanted to scream and shout and slam his fists against the wall, but Junior needed him. He could wait until later to break down.
“Now you listen to me, Junior,” he said, turning the boy to face him. “I lost my father at a young age too. I know how you’re feeling but…look at me.”
Junior raised his head and wiped the tears from his chin before looking Dave right in the eyes. There was such braveness in the boy.
“Your father was one of the best men I ever knew, and it won’t be easy, but you’re gonna be alright. I promise you.”
Junior gave a small nod, barely blinking as the shock of his new reality hit him. The two walked in silence back down the hallway.
“You’re gonna need to call your mother when we get home,” Dave said, wishing he knew what to do to make the pain go away for Junior.
“Yes, Sir.”
***
Most of what follows a death in the family is a blur. Dave and Junior spent much of their time figuring out what to do next while countless phone calls came in, everybody hoping to get a chance to speak to Junior, hoping to give him a few words of advice.
“Did you call your mother?” Dave asked, but he already suspected the answer.
“Shit,” Junior said with a frown. “No, I didn’t.”
Dave exhaled slowly. “Damn, Junior. You really need to do that.”
“I know, I know,” Junior whined. “And I meant to, I promise…I’ll do it as soon as we get home.”
Dave could understand Junior’s hesitance. He’d never imagined he’d ever see a day without his father at his side. The two had always been inseparable, but fate doesn’t care about your plans, and Junior had been dealt a bad hand.
“You know, she ain’t a bad lady,” Dave said. “Sure, she had it rough, and their splitting made it even rougher for her…but from what I hear, she’s good now.”
Dave turned to Junior and smiled. “I hear she’s doing really well for herself, and has been for years. Helps kids get off drugs over in Miami.”
Dave motioned with his head, as if he could point in the direction of Miami. He’d hoped it would have made it easier for Junior, but the boy just stared straight ahead of him. He looked so much like his father, and Dave was certain that any day he’d begin to sound the same too.
“I know,” Junior said, clenching his jaw.
They’d just found their seats when a familiar voice spoke from behind them.
“How you two holdin’ up?”
It wasn’t difficult to recognize that the voice belonged to Junior’s mother. They turned to face her. She was a beautiful woman, in her mid-forties. She’d certainly been dressed better that day than the last time Dave had seen her. She gave them a comforting smile before approaching them.
“What you doin’ here, mama?” Junior blurted out.
“And hello to you, son,” she answered, her one eyebrow rising slightly. “Hi, Dave.”
She leaned forward and gave Dave a hug. Although it was meant to be comforting, it had been so long since they’d seen each other that it had actually seemed somewhat uncomfortable.
“Sherri,” Dave greeted her. “We were just talking about calling you.” He shot Junior a knowing look.
