Salute

In the Morning

It's funny to think that day started off that way. I'd never have expected it, but then again, neither would anyone else. It wasn't something that could be expected, not something that could ever be accounted for, not when making plans, looking ahead, especially not on a single morning. And yet, that day started out like so many others.

"Max? Darling, you've got to come downstairs, this is a very important day for your sister, you don't want to make her late, do you?"

I stood at the foot of the stairs in our London home, calling to my two year old standing halfway up the staircase. Despite me having just gotten him completely dressed, he was now pant-less, walking around holding them in one grubby hand and his blanket, eloquently named blankie, in the other. His brown curls were frizzing in their natural air dried state, since he had just slept on them, but his puppy dog eyes were wide.

"Mummy i'don wan... I-I don't wan... I-I-I-I..."
He looked around distractedly, basically ignoring me, and I sighed, walking up the stairs and looping an arm around his waist to pick him up and carry him down to the ground floor.

"Love, are you sure it wouldn't just be easier to let me stay home with him and have you take Ellie? She's almost ready, I think, but this little one might take a while."

My husband Tom walked past me, carrying his laptop and a toddler-sized cardigan.
"Only if you really don't want to come, darling... it might help Ellie to have us both there on her first day, I wouldn't want to disappoint her."

"Don't you think the potential crowds might be a bit much? I wouldn't want paps getting wind of this."

"I dunno, we've got no signs they know anything about it so far, I'm pretty sure we're safe."

As soon as these words left my mouth, my eldest daughter popped her head around the doorway, her full head of soft chocolate colored curls bouncing around her shoulders.

"Mummy Mummy Mummy are we going yet? Are we going? Is Daddy coming? You said he would come, Daddy you're coming, right?" She kept up a stream of endless questions as she ran up to and past us, nearly knocking me over as she ran through my legs. Tom's arm wrapped around my waist to steady me, but didn't let go, pulling me closer to him for a kiss. For a moment, everything melted away, and it was just Tom and I; we could have been anywhere for all I was aware of our surroundings. Even after six years of marriage, he had this effect on me. I looked at him, really looked at him, into his eyes, and it was like there was only him. Only us. And the beautiful illusion lasted right up until another child hit us, pushing angrily against my arm.

"Max, no. We do not hit, we use our words."

"Stop the gross!!"

I giggled despite myself, but then Tom met my eyes, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. As Max struggled his way back up the staircase, Tom's hand slipped onto my stomach, and I almost blushed.

"Should we tell them?"

"Not right now, let's... let's wait until tonight. And Ellie, darling, how excited are you, hmm? Are you ready for your first day of real school?"
She laughed gleefully, twirling to make her school skirt spun out as much as it could.

"Yes yes yes yes I'm going to be a big girl, at big girl school!!"

Eventually, I got Max to put his pants back on, and Ellie got her little backpack from beside the front door. I double checked everything in my purse, and looked around as our little family gathered right inside the door; yep, we had everything.

We walked down the font path, Ellie holding tight to my hand, and Max's hand being held tight by his fathers. As Tom passed the rhododendron, though, Max slipped past him, running out in front past the front gate. Tom followed, picking up his pace, smiling as he pretended to chase Max and Max shrieked with laughter. He walked over to the car, Max standing by the back door, and went to the front drivers side to unlock it.

Later, they said that the man was mentally unstable. That he hadn't even really known what he had been doing. He had simply fixated on one man, and somehow, had found our address. He stood trial for it, of course, but they said that there was never any real reason he had done it. At that moment, though, his mental health was the last thing on my mind. Because as my husband rounded the car, keys in hand, the man fired a single shot, hitting him directly in the back.

It was over in an instant.

Everything became a blur. I remember running, faster than I ever had, to where my husband lay. I remember neighbors poking their heads out of windows, out of doors, looking around to see what had happened. I remember seeing the blood as it drained out of him, pooling on the asphalt and running in every direction. I remember neighbors yelling, running up to us, calling 999. I remember Ellie's screams; the sound that I can never forget, the worst soundtrack to my nightmares still. I remember hugging my son to my chest, so tight, needing an anchor in something real, warm, and alive; and yet, as he whispered confusedly in my ear, his soft words almost tore into me more than his sister's screams. I remember feeling more powerless than I had ever dreamed imaginable. I wanted, so badly, to never leave his side, to hold him, to shake him, to wake him up. But I wanted to protect my children; shield them from this sight, something they could never unsee, something that would haunt them.

It felt like it wasn't real; and yet, knowing it was real made it feel even more like I was dreaming. But some part of me kept waiting for it to be over. Eventually, my brain told me, it would be over. The pain, the confusion, the absence of my husband; eventually it had to stop. But the police arrived. They took us aside and spoke to us; got statements, treated us for shock. They had to pry my hands off of Max to take him away to talk to him; I could no longer control my actions, my body simply did not want to let go of my son. Then the police were gone, after hours and hours, and our family showed up.

Harry couldn't speak. He couldn't say anything. He had no camera, no bag, nothing. He had dropped everything to come, when he had heard. Max ran up to him, yelling his name, looking very confused when he got no response. But I had never seen Harry look more like a child, more lost than he did then.

Sam drove up, jumping out of the car before it had parked, tearing over to us and demanding to know. Was it true? Please let it not be true, oh god, of god, oh god, how, how could it have happened, how was this possible, oh god, oh god no...

Harrison was on the point of hysteria, crying and yelling and choking down screams of pain. The first responders had to sedate him; they said he might be dangerous otherwise. I knew better. There was no danger in him; nothing but the pain that he would feel himself, which nothing could stop, and sedating him would only postpone that suffering.

Nikki showed up with Dom, and her tears were silent too. Never ending, coursing down her face, but silent, and heart wrenching. When Max ran up to her, I saw, for the first time, a tiny smile shadow her lips, and she picked him up, hugging him close to her chest. I knew why. The little boy, my little boy; a living, breathing little replica of her son. The son she had lost.