Opening my suitcase, I retrieved my favorite pajamas. They were so old they were practically see-through but had once been my brother’s and brought me immense comfort. Once dressed for bed, my exhausted body slid under the covers to sleep off the time change, connecting flights, and one long flight with a screaming baby.
In the hotel room, I woke on and off during the day to unfamiliar noises. For solace, I would pull up my cell phone’s screensaver: Link. His smile had me quickly at ease and falling back to sleep every time. Snuggled in, I kept telling myself being this tired after a long trip was normal, but I think stress had finally won. After Crash’s death, I allowed myself no reprieve from guilt.
When I woke again, my room was dark, and I was thirsty. After figuring out how to turn on the lamp, I found a complimentary water, downed it, then crawled back into bed. This time, I couldn’t fall back to sleep even with Link smiling at me. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Mr. Jones’ photo of Yury in my mind.
The anger returned…
Grabbing my laptop, I scurried to the little desk in my room and settled in the chair. Fortunately, I had brought correct adapters to charge my laptop because the battery was drained, like me, after the journey to Russia. I searched and searched the web but couldn’t find the name “Yury” that matched the picture of the face I had seen over my cell phone the night Crash was killed. I slammed my eyes shut and groaned through the pain vandalizing my heart. Flashbacks of being deeply immersed in the blue waters, Crash leading our descent, his fingers twitching against mine. He was alive…
I had been, too. Then the blue waters slowly faded to black…
My next memory was waking on the dock, choking on water as Link did CPR on me.
Vigorously, my fingers tapped against my keyboard. “Where are you, you bastard?”
Then, a memory I didn’t realize I had played out in my mind. On the dock, Marina was crying, begging Crash to breathe while Mr. Jones performed CPR on his pale, soaked body.
I gasped through the sharp pains in my chest. Teardrops dripped onto the black keys. “Please…” Unbeknownst to me, I was missing a crucial part of the puzzle and had no skills to hunt down a murderer who didn’t want to be found.
Realizing I was not to have revenge for my brother or Crash, I flung my laptop against the wall. My trapped rage wanted blood, my heart wanted peace, my soul wanted rest, and I wanted to be free of… regret. There was so much pent up sorrow in my spirit that I needed the guilty to suffer as I did. Forgiveness nor understanding was on my mind.
Sitting in the little white chair, I wrapped shaky arms around my knees and stared at the broken laptop on the floor, wondering if Russia had an Apple store. Surrounded by gloom, frustrated tears streamed down my face. I wiped my cheek with my pajama shirt, thinking of my brother and how, no matter what I did or planned for revenge, he was never coming back. Nor was my Crash. Killing a hundred human traffickers was still going to leave me forlorn.
What is there to fight for if not for those who were lost? The answer was one I had yet to learn, but it would become a lesson I would never forget, never take for granted, again.
Sobs pushed past my lips as I cursed the world and God for taking such beautiful-hearted young men away from this earth, leaving me alone. I was still unable to recognize what God had indeed offered… until the sun rose. As a beam hit my face through the beautiful windows, it felt like a message. The message was profound and riveting as it said, “What the fuck are you doing in Russia, dumbass?”
Unexpected clarity was delivered. I had been so focused on what was gone—stolen from me—that I was oblivious to what I still had. Link’s beautiful smile shined from many years of tender memories, all at once. I clutched my chest realizing how not being near him hurt. Always had.
Then I remembered sitting with him late at night in the woods by our homes before I left. A lit candle burned between us. Link had said, “Crash told me that you loved me, you just didn’t know it. That’s why he told me to love you enough for both of us.” It was a moment I will never forget. “I do, Whit. I will always love you enough for both of us.”
Even while mourning for his brother, Link still found the strength and bravery to tell me his true feelings. He was raw and exposed… and I flew away.
In the hotel room, I covered my face with sweaty palms as I thought of Mr. Jones’ pleading eyes when I was in his office, his words now haunting me. “Giving you this picture means killing the one he plans on marrying. Link would relive any horrid event for you.”
Then Crash’s past words whispered to me, “Franky, he’s your strongest link, not your weakest.”
An urgency to return to Link had my heart pounding. Oh God, what have I done?
Grabbing the water charm at my chest, I could almost hear my brother calling me from our lake, repeating words once said. “I will always be in those blue waters, waiting for you.”
Remembering how vigorously Link swam to Crash and me as we were drowning, how determined he was to save our lives, I realized Timothy didn’t lie. He taught Link how to swim and how to relax under the water to hold his breath even longer.
It was at that monumental moment, in a hotel room in Russia, that I understood my brother had never left me at all. Timothy’s presence, and his uncanny outlook for such a young man, will be with me forever through my best friend and the wisdom my brother left behind.
That glorious morning, I smiled and sighed. It’s time to go home. I told those message delivering sunrays, “Okay. I will pull my shit together and go back,” I tucked hair behind my ear—like Link always would, “for a fresh start.”
That’s exactly how it felt. Fresh. A new perspective can change anything…
Picking up my cell phone from the desk to call Link and explain my temporary insanity, and that I was coming home, I decided to surprise him instead. Giddy with how happy he would be to see me, I suddenly admired him so much more. What a strong person to have set this bird free… I wanted back in any cage that had Reether Jones in it. So, at my little desk, I bought a ticket to fly out that night. A one-way ticket to hope. My strongest link.
I peered around my room from my chair, joyful for the first time in almost two months, and checked in for the flight from my phone. I giggled. “I guess I don’t need to repack. Never unpacked.” I lifted a brow. “Why are you talking to yourself?” I waited for a reply… “Whew. No answer. I’m not completely mad, even though I am in fucking Russia.” I rested my forehead to my folded knees. “Jesus…What was I thinking?” My stomach growled. “This is not my smartest move. Link should’ve kicked my ass. I haven’t even fed myself since… I don’t even know what day it is.” My stomach growled again to inform me she meant business.
After picking up the hotel phone to ask about breakfast, I was informed they had no breakfast ‘buffet’. Apparently, only Americans fill their plates to the brim to be sure they get their eight dollars and ninety-nine cents worth of grub, then moan and groan about how lousy the food was and how full they are.
So be it.
While informing the woman on the phone that I was checking out early and needed a car back to the airport, I also ordered room service because taking an adventure outside only screamed, “Time for Whit to get lost.” No need for all that jazz.