Half Sick of Shadows » Band of Brothers [2]

50: You May Contribute A Verse

"That you are here - that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse."
- Walt Whitman, O Me! O Life!

-

Before I can even blink we're back in Aldbourne. Back where it all began. Kind of. I like to think this is where it began - it's not, obviously; we have four years of experience in the field and a further year of training before that which prologue it, but it feels like that was the beginning. The beginning of the end, I suppose.

Our house back in Aldbourne - the house I have come to consider a home, because even though it's full of sad memories it's also full of happy ones, just like all true homes are - has been left alone for us. No one has been in it since we left and everything's exactly as we left it. Stepping foot back in that living room makes me burst into tears, though I can hardly say why.

So many nights spent in that living room getting drunk off of whatever we could find. So many days spent discussing whatever we could distract ourselves with. And in the kitchen, so many culinary nightmares when Will and I would try to cook. And in my bedroom, Tom sitting with me until the early hours of the morning so I wouldn't feel alone when I fell asleep. And Alex's room, which is still exactly as he left it.

We all collectively decide to send as much of Alex's stuff as possible to his mum. I like to think that's what he would have wanted.

Two whole years since we first arrived in Aldbourne. I feel like we've hardly spent any time here, really, for the majority of those two years, but a really significant part of my heart is here, and here it will stay.

It's Martin who leaves first. He's heading back up north and I knew this day would come but it is so, so hard. I can't even say how hard it is. I love him so much.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" he says to me. When I see the tears in his eyes I start to weep.

"I will," I promise, burrowing into his chest as though if I nuzzle myself close enough he won't be able to go. "Take care of yourself, too," I say, and he laughs. Martin and I always did it together, the stuff in the field. He has always been right behind me, bailing me out of danger. God, this is absolutely too hard.

"I will." He pulls back to look at me and doesn't even bother to hide his tears. That's how I know he's truly upset to say goodbye, too. "Thank you. For everything. I know you think I was always looking out for you, and I was, but you were always looking out for me, too."

I smile through the tears. "We did it together," I agree, and he laughs a little bit.

"Stay in touch, okay?" he says and now I'm sobbing again. "I want to know all about your new life in America."

"I will," I repeat, laughing a bit into the fabric of his jacket. "I promise I will. Write to me too, though."

"Of course," he says. He gives me one final squeeze and pulls back. I have to press a hand against my mouth to stop myself from blubbing so loudly. I've never been any good at goodbyes.

He's already said goodbye to Tom so the only person left is Will, who is in a puddle of his own tears. Will, who is to Martin what Tom is to me. Those two people who are so incredibly, wildly different but who have found in each other friendship in one of its purest forms. Even watching them say goodbye makes me feel worse so I have to turn away.

"I love you all," Martin says after he's put his bags in the boot of the car. He's wiping furiously at his eyes as he turns back to us, all standing outside of the house and crying buckets. "I love each and every single one of you buggers more than you'll ever know."