Broken Bonds

This story is by Kaitlin Murphy and won an honorable mention in our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

I abandoned my three-year-old son a few weeks before Christmas. Now a teenager, Tristan was the first person I saw upon entering the funeral parlor. He’s so grown up, so tall. I can still hear my departing words to him: “Daddy loves you, buddy. So much. I need to figure out myself. I’ll make you proud of our name.” It’s been thirteen years since we were last in the same room, and I haven’t lived up to that promise.

My joy is short-lived when I hear Tristan refer to his stepfather as ‘my dad’ in the eulogy. My hands curled into fists as I glared at the large portrait of Lt. Colonel Ezra Almond at the front of the room. I hope the heart attack killed him slowly. Painfully.

A commanding officer should look out for their men, but instead, Almond stabbed me in the back. Then stole my wife and child.

Ruth and I started dating when she was fifteen, and I was eighteen. When we married, she was nineteen and pregnant within six months. Things were good until two weeks before her due date.

I came home from working extra hours on base to find Almond sitting in my living room. His hand was over Ruth’s breast (okay, heart) as he talked her through fake contractions. Understandably upset, I yelled at him to leave. He pulled rank (me an enlisted and him an officer) and refused to leave until I apologized. Instead, I used my service weapon to threaten him and chase him outside. He returned thirty minutes later with two MPs to arrest me. I was still in jail when Tristan was born.

I self-destructed after my dishonorable discharge. I couldn’t collect unemployment and lost our VA housing assistance and health insurance. I couldn’t find a job and drank my way through our savings. Ruth finally left me after Tristan turned two and accepted Almond’s proposal a year later. I abandoned my boy a few months after that. I couldn’t afford diapers, let alone Christmas presents, while Almond prepared a big wedding and had numerous gifts wrapped for my son. But most of all, seeing the three of them as a happy family hurt. That smarted something awful.

****

When the viewing finally ended, I ducked outside for a smoke. Also, partly to avoid Ruth for a bit longer. I never expected to find all the kids outside in the damp cold. Under an awning, Tristan yelled at his younger brother, waving something small. The others watched, transfixed from afar.

“This isn’t a toy, Ian! Mom needs this to live! Put it back where you found it!”
Ian, who had to be about ten, sprinted past me, sniffling. He cradled a hardshell yellow eyeglass case against his chest like a football. It had been so long that it took me a moment to remember its importance to Ruth. The contents are lifesaving indeed.

I nervously approached Tristan, glad to have a cigarette to fiddle with.

“Hello, son. That was a nice eulogy.”

Tristan was startled and nearly fell over as he squatted down to tie his dress shoes. “Thanks, man,” he muttered.

I cleared my throat to give myself some time. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. And for leaving like I did. I know I must earn your forgiveness. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. I want you to know that.”

Tristan tilted his head. “I’m sorry, I think you have me confused. I don’t know you.”

“I’m your… Stan Henderson,” I sputtered out lamely.

There is no flicker of recognition, just polite indifference. Just then, the hearse arrived, heading for the building’s side entrance where Almond’s coffin would be loaded.

“Sorry, man. Gotta go.” Tristan cast me an inquisitive look and went back inside.

I imagined our reunion thousands of times. I never considered he wouldn’t know about me. My face heated at the realization Tristan thought the prick was his dad.

Because this stupid town doesn’t sell liquor on Sundays, I ended up in the convenience store a couple of shops down. Out of spite, I bought a snack I was never allowed to eat around Ruth. I swear I didn’t plan to make them a weapon.

****

Almond received full military honors and was to be buried in a civilian cemetery so Ruth could be buried alongside him one day. This incensed me as I realized these honors would never be mine.

Feeling petty, I munched on peanut butter crackers through the entire graveside ceremony. My fingertips scraped away the extra peanut butter around the cracker’s edges first. I relished the annoyed looks as my crunching and smacking lips drowned out the minister’s words.

After everything was over, Ruth sat alone in the front row and sobbed, clutching the triangular flag. I watched the other mourners, including her boys, head for their vehicles as the darkening sky threatened to open. Only then did I approach Ruth. Her unzipped purse hung from her chair back, the yellow eyeglass case peeking out. I picked it up and slipped it in my jacket. I cleared my throat.

“One more minute, baby.” Ruth looked up, did a double take, and jumped. “Stan?! Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be here for my son. But imagine my surprise when I learn Tristan thinks Almond is his father. He doesn’t even know my name!”

Ruth’s eyes flashed in anger. “You don’t get to judge me! Every night for two months, Tristan asked me when his daddy was coming back. Why tell him you lost interest in being a dad?”

“I left because I couldn’t compete. You could have married anyone; why did it have to be him? He cost me everything,” I snapped.

“You cost us that. You just had to apologize, Stan. Instead, you pulled a gun. You ruined us.” Ruth breathed out sharply. “Listen… I don’t want to keep Tristan from you. But I decide when you see him. I need to know you won’t disappear again. I have two sons’ hearts to protect now.”

“How long?”

“A couple weeks? We need time to grieve his father.”

“I’m his father!” I lunged forward angrily, grabbing her wrist. My dirty nails scraped against her bare skin as she yanked her arm back. I nervously glanced over my shoulder, relieved no one saw me grab her.

Ruth rubbed her wrist. “Don’t you ever grab me like that again!” She turned her head away and used her wrist to suppress coughs.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” I murmured.

Ruth coughed harder, chest heaving as she struggled to inhale. Her head jerked, and her hand jumped to her throat. “’Sum-‘ins… ‘rong. Can’t… breathe…”

I pulled the empty food wrapper from my coat pocket with shaky hands. “Kinda ironic you married a man named Almond, considering your nut allergy, yeah?”

Ruth stared at the wrapper before glancing sharply at my face. She stared at me in disbelief and horror. Her gaze dropped to the wrist I grabbed; it was already covered with hives. Ruth spun around and clawed for her purse strap. She collapsed to her knees when she accidentally knocked it to the ground. She frantically started rifling through her purse.

“Where … is? Stan, please! Don’t… this! Orphans,” Ruth barely got out. She grabbed onto my pants leg, her eyes fearful and desperate.

“I never wanted this. Maybe I can forgive you for marrying him. But never for erasing me. Letting our son think he’s his real father. I’m sorry, Ruth.”

Unable to watch her suffer and slowly suffocate, I turned away and ran to the opposite side of the mausoleum. I collapsed against the stone wall and started to hyperventilate as it dawned on me what I was doing right now. And not doing. Sure, I had killed before, but never someone I loved. And only ever in the fog of war.

I plugged my ears with my fingers, so I don’t have to listen to Ruth’s body thrashing around, her lungs gasping for breath. I heard the concerned shouts before the hurried footfalls.

“MOM?! Oh my god, she’s in shock! She needs her syringe!” Tristan screeched. “It’s not here! Ian, where did you put it? I TOLD YOU TO PUT IT BACK!”

“I-I did! I swear! MOM! MOMMY!” Ian screamed and sobbed while Tristan shouted, “HELP US! She needs help!”

I pull Ruth’s yellow eyeglass case from my back pocket, popping the lid open. Lying inside is a capped syringe full of epinephrine. I let it drop to the ground and stomp on it.  I wind up and throw the case into the middle of a nearby grove of bushes. Then, I forced myself to hyperventilate more, so my breathing became erratic. Only then do I run around the mausoleum to check on the boys. I don’t have to act horrified when I find Ruth dead.

It’s my chance to play parent now.