To Move On ✔️

Chapter 3

"I'm sorry Zach Sylvester has not been identified yet," the personnel informed me piteously.

I didn't need pity. I needed an answer.

"What do you mean identified?" I ask him.

"Meaning his body hasn't been identified yet. I'm sorry but I'm afraid he hasn't survived considering he was positioned at the front lines. And the chances of him surviving through that are less than one," he told me apologetically.

The tears fell.

I walked away to never come back. Zach. Him, Rick. All taken away from me. I wanted to die right then. But I decided to hold on. To live through the pain and tolerate that torture because I deserved it.

But give me a reason to fight!

I love you Lexie.

Zach's voice rang inside my head constantly.

It continued to do so everyday. Every week. Every passing moment that I was conscious in. Saying that it pained or hurt me was a huge understatement. I felt miserable.

And I knew I had earned it.

*

A month later, I was walking past his house as I did every day after work. I stopped visiting the camp anymore. Going there only caused disappointment to me.

It was not dark yet. The moon was just beginning to peek amidst the orange-red sky. It had been a bright day. The trees were blooming with white and pink periwinkles.

Everything was beautiful. All apart from my life.

Walking, walking, walking.

That's how I was going through my life.

There was a sudden change in the air current and all the flowers began to fall down due to the strength of the breeze.

I turned around by an unspoken purpose to see the flowers go haywire and fall everywhere. In the middle of all that stood Zach, wearing a military uniform.

His face was sunken and his skin was pale but his glow was still there. His arm was in a sling and he had a walker for his plastered leg. He had lost a lot of weight and his hair had grown with a little beard.

A smile formed on my lips reflecting the one on his face.

In that silent moment that passed between our shining and glistening eyes from a distance, we  understood that we loved each other.

That spring was here.

*

"And so that's our story son," Zach concluded.

"So he was Rick too?" little Rick asked in fascination as he took the photograph of three happy and smiling people from the bed stand.

"Yes," I replied.

I took the photograph from my son's small, reckless fingers and kept it back on the bed stand.

It had already been eleven years since that accident.

I observed the picture again. Zach was smiling sadly in his military outfit; me, in the middle, showing my uneven set of teeth and the wind blowing through my long hair; and Rick.

His orange hair was untidy and his face was shining brighter than the sun. If I close my eyes, I can still hear his lingering laughter in my ears that never left our sides.

Zach took my hand in his and his fingers brushed my scar lightly. Both of us gazed at each other before going back to looking at our little son.

Our little Rick.

"Was he good mommy?" Rick asked.

My face beamed up at the innocent question.

"Yes he was the best. He taught me something very important in my life."

"What mommy?"

I smiled and looked over at Zach. Not removing my eyes from his face I answered:

"To move on"

THE END

*****

Dedicated to the friend who helped me write it,
Abha.