He Won't Be Coming Home

I sighed deeply as I walked into the bathroom, turning the shower water on and slowly pulling my clothes from my body. I had just laid Matty down in his playpen and knew that he'd be content enough to give me time for a quick shower.

Standing under the hot water, I closed my eyes and let the droplets cascade over my body, soaking my hair and skin quickly, taking away all the stress of caring for a new baby as a temporarily single mother. I felt the heat and steam caress my tight shoulder muscles and wished for a massage - Matt was always good at them.

Matt... I hadn't hear from him in about a week, but it wasn't really anything for me to worry about these days. His letters were becoming fewer and farther between a each new day wore on. He rarely had very much time to sit down and get word out, but he made it count when he could. I just couldn't believe that he had been gone a year. I hadn't seen him in so long, and it was really starting to tear my up inside.

After a few more minutes of trying to wash away my troubles in the shower I turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off before I wrapped it around my body. I searched for comfortable clothes to wear in my closet and quickly grabbed a black cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans, slipping them on before running my fingers through my hair, not bothering to dry it fully.

With a glance at the clock on my bedside table, I knew it was a little past ten in the morning. The mail always came at nine-thirty sharp every morning - save for Sundays of course - so I figured it would do no harm to look and see if I had gotten anything from Matt.

The wind was crisp and a little chilly when I stepped out the front door, and I quickly opened the mailbox, grabbed what was inside, and went back into the house. I flipped through each piece of mail and a smile came to my lips as I felt the white envelope in my hands. I flipped it over to read the front and the smile slowly faded, the writing not being Matt's. It was addressed to 'Mrs. Jayvee Sanders'.

The muscles in my throat tightened, straining as my hands shook before I ripped the envelope open. The paper crinkled in my hands as I unfolded it and began to read.

We are sorry to inform you that Corporal Matthew C. Sanders has been killed in action.

My heart stopped in my chest and I read that line over and over for what felt like a million times before it really hit me. My hands balled into fists, my limbs shaking as I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I heard the paper crinkling more in my hands as I backed into the wall.

"No..." I whispered. "No...." Slowly my body slid down the wall until I was crouched on the floor. My breathing came in gasps as I really tried to grasp onto what was happening. Matt was dead. He was gone, just like Zacky, and I would never get to see him again. He would never meet his son, and Matty Jr. would never meet his father. Alex would never get his hero back.

"No. God fucking damnit, NO!" I screamed, slamming my head back into the wall as tears poured from my eyes. "Oh my God..." I gasped out, over and over, feeling my entire life, everything I had built and worked for so hard, crumbling down on all sides of me, leaving me broken and confused in a cloud of dust.

My crying got louder and louder, on the verge of screaming, and I could barely hear Matty begin crying in his playpen and footsteps barging down the stairs.

"Jayvee? Jay..." I heard Sarah's voice over my ear piercing screams. I could barely see her kneeling in front of me through my blurry eyes, but I just continued to scream from the pain of a hole being ripped in my heart. Now I finally knew how Sarah felt. I finally know what it felt like to lose one of the only things that mattered to me in my entire life. Matt had been my strength for so long, and he had all so suddenly been ripped away in the blink of an eye.

"Jay, calm down. Tell me what's wrong..." Sarah said, grabbing my wrists in her hands to get them away from my face, where I was digging my nails into my skin.

"Fuck!" I screamed. "M-Matty... Oh my God," I wailed out, gasping for air but not being too successful. I felt like my lungs were caving in, like the walls were moving in on me, trying to crush the life out of me.

"What about Matt, Jay? Is he... Did.... Jay?" Sarah asked again, and I knew that she could just tell, she knew just by how I was freaking out that Matt was dead.

"Oh my God," she whispered, and I felt her arms close around me. I knew she was just trying to comfort me, make me feel just an ounce better, but it just made me feel even more claustrophobic than before, and I had to push her off me.

"I need..." I gasped as I slowly stood up, letting the crumpled paper fall from my first to the ground. "I need to be with..." I slurred, and then rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to brush the tears away as I sniffled. Crossing the kitchen to the counter, I pulled open one of the drawers, hearing metal clinking inside. "I need to be with Matt. I can't do this. I can't be alone..." I muttered, hiccoughing hard as I tried to breath, grasping a knife with a serrated blade from the drawer.

"Jay, what the fuck?" Sarah screamed, but I felt so light headed I didn't move, didn't look at her. I looked at the blade, saw my tear stained reflection in the metal, and then pointed it toward my body, grasping the handle with both fists.

"I need him, Sarah. I can't live without Matt."

Before I could think to react, Sarah darted over to me, knocking the blade to the floor and taking my face in her hands.

"No, Jay. I won't let you," she sobbed, and looking in her glassy eyes, I just broke down again.

"Brian... I want Brian," I choked before I collapsed to the floor, the light feeling in my brain taking over, making me feel sick.

I knew Sarah called him over the phone, as I could hear her frantic half of the conversation, and it seemed like no time at all that Brian was at my side, holding me in his arms.

"Sshh... Jay, it's alright. I've got you," he whispered as he sat on the tiled kitchen floor, rocking me back and forth in his lap, his fingers linked with mine.

"B-Brian... He's gone," I sobbed, my eyes watering over again, blinding me. "I can't believe he's gone..."

"I know, sweetie... I know," I heard him say, his voice wavering. My shoulder felt damp, and I knew it was because Brian was crying.

Suddenly my stomach lurched, and my throat tightened again. "Brian, I'm gonna be sick," I warned, and I scrambled out of his arms and to the bathroom, hearing his footsteps right behind me. The empty feeling in my stomach that was sucking me down churned, and I kneeled at the toilet, my fingers feverishly gripping the white porcelain as I heaved into it, the vomit stinging the back of my throat and tongue as it forced its way up.

I felt Brian's hand on my back, the other pulling my damp hair out of the way as he tried to calm me down. I didn't have much to throw up to behind with, but my throat burned and stung once I was finished, the acid and muscle strain really taking its toll. Carelessly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I slumped into the wall, my eyes closed and my breathing erratic as tears still streamed down my face. The last thing I remembered was Brian whispering to me that everything would be okay.