“I served with Jeremy. My name’s Daniel.
I knew the name.
Jeremy had spoken about him for months.
“He asked me to meet you.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t want you coming to see him yet.”
I straightened.
“What?”
“He wants you to go home.”
“He’s alive, and he doesn’t want his wife?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you mean.”
Daniel glanced at the girls.
“Jeremy was injured six weeks ago.”
I gripped the stroller.
“How badly?”
“His back. His legs have been affected.”
I remembered our calls.
Jeremy sitting against pillows.
The camera never showing below his shoulders.
Whenever I asked him to stand and show me his room, he’d make a joke.
“He’s using a wheelchair,” Daniel said.
“No.”
“He thought he’d be walking again before he came home.”
I thought of all the times he’d apologized.
I had believed he meant the birth.
