Soldier On by Sydney Logan Page A

The woman is practically beaming.
    “Stephanie has always been a quiet one. Always thinking. Sometimes, she thinks too much. Worries too much. Doesn’t trust herself. I’ve always told her a little faith is all she needs.”
    Our eyes lock, and I know she knows I’m having a mental meltdown. Living with my mom for eighteen years made me an expert at reading between the lines. She’s telling me to trust my instincts when it comes to Brandon, which I find hilarious because she’s known him for a grand total of thirty minutes.
    “You know, she’s right here,” I mumble. “Could we maybe talk about something besides me?”
    “That’s another thing,” Mom says, “She absolutely hates attention.”
    Brandon chuckles. “I’ve noticed that, actually.”
    I roll my eyes.
    Mom laughs before turning her attention to the window. “I’m worried about you driving back tonight. We’ve had a rain-snow-sleet mix all day. The roads may freeze tonight. Can you stay the night and drive back tomorrow?”
    “I was just thinking about that, actually,” Brandon replies, glancing at me. “What do you think?”
    “My first class isn’t until the afternoon. What about your morning run?”
    He shrugs. “I can run anywhere.”
    “You’re a runner?” Mom asks.
    “Brandon wakes up at five o’clock every morning to work out.”
    Mom makes a sour face. “Why?”
    “I know, right? He’s very regimented. Very disciplined.”
    Mom hums quietly and smiles at Brandon, making him sigh and shift uncomfortably in his chair.
    “ Now who’s hating the attention?”
    We all laugh, and Brandon offers to clear the table while Mom and I head to the living room. I follow her over to the sofa.
    “I like him, Steph.”
    I grin. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
    She suddenly grows serious and reaches for the chain around my neck. Her fingers slide along the metal.
    “I’m glad you’re here today. Both of you.”
    “He wasn’t sure if he should come.”
    “But you wanted him here.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Is it serious?”
    “Not yet, no.”
    “But it could be?”
    I look toward the kitchen. “I think it could be, yeah.”
    “What’s keeping it from being serious?”
    “Me.”
    She nods. “I figured as much. You should trust your instincts, Steph.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because this is completely foreign to me. I can’t trust this because I’ve never experienced it.”
    “Experienced what?”
    “Whatever this is.”
    We’re talking in circles now, which isn’t unusual for us.
    “My instincts tell me he’s pretty perfect,” I admit quietly. “But how can that be? Nobody is.”
    “Your dad had his perfect moments.”
    I glance toward the fireplace mantle. That’s where Dad’s picture has been proudly displayed since before I was born. Rising from the couch, I walk over and stare at the gold frame. He’s wearing his uniform, and an American flag is displayed in the background.
    “I’m going to help Brandon with the dishes,” Mom says quietly, leaving me alone with my dad and my jumbled thoughts.
    It never fails to amaze me just how handsome my father was, especially in his uniform. He looked so dignified and proud, leaving no doubt in my mind that he loved the military. But it’s impossible for me not to feel sad when I look into his eyes, because all I can think about is how much he’s missed. Holidays. Birthdays. Growing old and gray with his wife. He won’t see me graduate from college, and he won’t get to walk me down the aisle.
    Was the military really worth missing all that?
    I have no idea how long I stand there, but after a while, I feel Brandon’s arms wrap around my waist. He gently pulls me close to his chest and rests his chin on my shoulder.
    “You have his eyes,” he says.
    “Yeah.”
    He holds me tight in his arms as we stare at the picture of my father.
    “The rain has stopped. Cynthia says if we want to go to the cemetery, we should probably go now.”
    I turn around in his