1. Zoe

1

ZOE

"Ten minutes, AJ!" I yelled up the stairs and immediately regretted it, wincing as the vibration of my voice made its way through my ear canal and violently slammed against my cochlea. My head throbbed. If I didn't know any better, I would swear there was someone beating on a bass drum inside of my head.

Last night, I'd taken six shots, which turned out to be five too many. Tequila and I were no longer on speaking terms. Typically, I didn't go out when I had to work the next morning, especially when I had a double shift. But the girls insisted on taking me out for drinks, and last night was the only night we all had free. If I had tried to refuse them, they would have kidnapped me. By ‘kidnapping,' I meant camping out on my front porch and not leaving until I relented to coming out for a drink with them, which they had done. On several occasions.

It had been a hard week, and they were trying to make me feel better. It worked. Temporarily. But this morning, I was paying the price.

My eyes were still closed as I turned and proceeded to trip over a size twelve pair of cleats, causing me to stumble. Thankfully, since I'd studied ballet until I was sixteen, albeit against my will, I had the reflexes of a cat and was able to semi-gracefully land on the balls of my sock-covered feet.

"And put your cleats in the mudroom!"

If I'd said it once, I'd said it a thousand times.

"If ya keep doin' it, the boy is never gonna learn." Walter eyed me over his reading glasses from his La-Z-Boy in the front room, as I bent over and picked up the offending footwear.

"I know." I sighed as I carried the cleats through the kitchen and set them on the dryer.

Walter was right, but as a nurse who had done more than a few rotations in the emergency room, I knew the dangers of tripping hazards and would rather remove the shoes than roll the dice on me twisting an ankle or, worse, Walter breaking a hip. Ninety was right around the corner for him, and I'd seen what those injuries could do to a person of his age.

"You workin' a double today?" Walter asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Yep," I confirmed as he leaned on the island and picked up his coffee mug.

I'd noticed he was moving a little slower these days. I worried that it was more than just the normal wear and tear of his eighty-eight-year-old body. For the past year, I'd gone from gently suggesting to outright asking him to please go in and see someone, just for a checkup, but he was stubborn and set in his ways.

"You work too hard," he grumbled.

As a single parent, I didn't really have a lot of options. AJ's future was entirely on my shoulders. Without Walter, I didn't know where we would be. He'd allowed us to live here rent-free ever since I was sixteen years old, and my mother threw me out of the house because I was pregnant. That was twelve years ago.

My phone vibrated on the counter, and I picked it up.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"Nadia." I turned the phone to show him the photos she'd just texted from the night before.

The first was the four of us doing the Charlie's Angels pose. Nadia and Daphne were the blonde bombshell bookends of the group. Ashley and I were in the center. Ashley had long, wavy red hair and stood a good two inches taller than me at five foot seven, but she'd bent her knees as she held her gun pose. My chestnut brown hair fell to mid back and, at least in my estimation, was the plainest in the group.

In the next photo, we went for the YMCA pose. Nadia was the Y. I was the M. Ashley was the C. And Daphne was the A.

They were the sisters I'd never had. My found family. Daphne was the newest member of our little click, only coming to town about six months ago, but she'd slotted right in.

Walter chuckled at the photos as he handed my phone back to me.

"How are the girls doing?"

"Good. Daphne and Harlan got engaged. And Ashley is going to apply for Married by a Matchmaker ."

"Congrats to Harlan and Daphne! Good for them! Now, what in the world is Married by a Matchmaker ?"

"It's a show where matchmakers arrange your marriage for you. You don't know your husband before you walk down the aisle and say I do," I explained as I heard a scratch on the glass, indicating someone was done with their morning potty break.

"Why would she do that?" Walter asked, appearing horrified at the prospect.

"I think she's tired of dating apps, and she says she wants expert help," I relayed as I pulled open the sliding back door, and Daisy trotted in from the backyard. I reached down, scratched her behind her soft, floppy ears, and kissed her on top of her head.

Daisy was a tan boxer/lab mix with a white line on her nose and black circles around her eyes that made her look like she was wearing eyeliner. Three years ago, right after I started working at the hospital, I was walking to my car and heard a high-pitched cry behind a dumpster. I looked and saw a tan bundle of fur with two huge brown eyes. I picked her up and knew that I had to take her home.

Walter was not happy about my decision. He huffed and puffed and gave me a hard time, saying he didn't want a fleabag living in his house. I promised him I would only keep her until I found a good family for her. By the next day, he told me not to bother because "AJ was too attached to her." He was also the one who named the "fleabag" after she destroyed Mrs. Klein's daisies next door.

Mrs. Klein and Walter had a fifty-year-long feud regarding property lines and lemon trees. I didn't know the full extent of the issue, but suffice to say, he got a real kick out of the fact that Daisy had trampled on her flower bed. I had a sneaking suspicion he named Daisy after the flower so that each time myself, AJ, or Walter called Daisy, Mrs. Klein would be reminded of her destroyed landscaping.

"Kids these days and their apps." Walter shook his head, referring to Ashley's dating apps, as he and Daisy headed into the front room to watch their morning shows.

As he grumbled about meeting someone the ‘old-fashioned way,' I filled my insulated mug with coffee, went to the calendar and marked an X on yesterday, then checked to see if AJ had practice tonight. He didn't. Then, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath as a number appeared in my head.

3571

That was how many days Austin had been gone. I'd made it three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one days without him being with me. When I lost him, I didn't even know how I would make it one…so I guess that was pretty good.

My phone vibrated on the counter again. This time, it was the alarm that I had set for the time we needed to be out the door.

"AJ! We have to go!" I grabbed my purse and travel mug and looked around to see if there was anything I was forgetting. I felt like there was, but then again, I always felt like I was forgetting something.

I walked into the front room as AJ was coming down the stairs. Every day, he looked more and more like his dad. He was going to be twelve in a few months. Which was around the same age Austin was when we got together, but he was already taller than his dad was at that age. It was strange that I could see so much of his dad in him, but he was a totally different person.

His head was down, watching something on his phone. He had his AirPods in so I couldn't hear it, but when he passed me to go to the front door, I saw what was playing on his screen. It was a YouTube clip of the girl he liked, Kendall French. She moved to town a few months ago from New York, where she'd done two Broadway shows and been in several commercials and had a few guest-starring roles on procedurals. He was watching a commercial she was in for a clothing campaign.

When I opened the front door, I waved. "Bye, Walter, bye Daisy-daze."

"See ya later, alligators!" Walter lifted his hand.

AJ walked straight out to the car. The older he got, the moodier he got. Thankfully, Walter didn't take it personally. He'd raised Austin's mom and then Austin when his mom left him with Walter when he was three, and she ran off with her boyfriend. Walter always reminded me to pick my battles, and saying goodbye was not a battle I felt like fighting this morning.

I clicked the fob to my four-door sedan. As soon as I got in, I turned the engine on, and as I started to back out, I glanced in the rearview mirror and realized I wasn't wearing my lanyard with my ID on it.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath and pulled up the emergency brake. "I'll be right back."

I put the car in park and ran back into the house.

"Forget somethin'?" Walter asked from his seat.

"My ID," I explained as I rushed up the stairs and into my room. My lanyard was hanging on the hook in my bathroom; you know where I would see it and not forget it.

After Austin and I got married when we were teenagers, Walter moved down to the en-suite bedroom on the first floor and gave us the entire upstairs since we were expecting AJ. He said it would be easier so we could be close to the baby's room. After Austin died, I tried to give him his room back. I told him I could share a room with AJ, but he insisted on us keeping everything as it was. He said nothing had changed, even though we both knew everything had.

I said goodbye again, and when I got back out to the car, I heard my phone ringing as I reached for the door handle. It was synced to my Bluetooth, and I saw AJ reaching out to answer it when I opened the door, which made me assume he knew the caller. I assumed wrong.

"Hello," AJ said.

"Hi, this is Braxton Davis; I'm Miles Ford's assistant. I was calling to see if?—"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw AJ's face light up with excitement at the mention of Miles Ford as I sat down in the driver's seat.

"This isn't a good time," I abruptly cut her off.

"Okay, then I could just set up a time for a phone call. Miles is very interested in speaking to you?—"

"I'm not interested in a call. I'm sorry. I have to go." I reached out and disconnected the call.

"Mom!" AJ turned to me. "Why did you do that? It's Miles Ford ."

"We've talked about this, AJ."

"No, you talked about it. I don't understand why you don't want them to make a movie about Dad. Miles Ford wants to talk to you. He's gonna play, Dad . Why can't you just talk to him?"

I took a deep breath in through my nose and exhaled. This was why my week had been so bad. This was why my friends had wanted to kidnap me. A movie was going to be made about my late husband, and Miles Ford had just been announced as the actor who was going to be playing him.

I knew that AJ and Walter didn't understand my reservations about the movie. To be honest, I didn't think my friends really understood it. They supported me, but they didn't understand it.

Austin died nearly ten years ago. 3571 days, to be exact. He was more than what someone could ever condense into ninety minutes. I didn't want his memory to become a commercial of his life. He was a hero. Not facetiously or figuratively. He was literally a hero.

In fact, the name of the movie was Fallen Hero: The True Story of Marine Sergeant Austin James .

What if the movie got it wrong? I'd seen it happen with other based on a true story movies. That was a very loose term that meant a lot of creative license could be taken. Austin wasn't here to tell the real story. To set the record straight.

If I didn't protect his memory, then who would?

I didn't even know exactly what happened. I wasn't there. I wasn't in Afghanistan. Yes, I knew he saved people. But the only fact I knew for certain was that he left, and he didn't come back to me. He promised me he would come back, and he didn't.

AJ rolled his eyes as he put his AirPods back in his ears and stared out the window the rest of the way to school. I hadn't even pulled to a complete stop before he opened the door and got out, not sparing me a second glance.

"Bye, I love you," I said as he slammed the door.

I winced again. I wasn't sure if it was from my head, which was still throbbing. Or my heart, which was still breaking. Probably both.