then another. It was all of the letters I had written to Jagger. The envelopes had been opened, but the letters were still inside.
Flipping the manila envelope over, I dumped its contents onto the desk. Phil started to grab the envelopes with me, turning them over as we looked for the letter Jagger wrote me.
“Where is it?!” I said, my voice catching as my throat tightened.
Phil picked up a small white envelope that made a sliding sound. He flipped it over, and I recognized Jagger’s handwriting from his father’s letter. Phil held it out to me, but I froze. I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to know the answer to the puzzle, if there even was an answer. I didn’t want anything to confirm what I feared the most, that Jagger was dead.
“Open it,” Phil said softly. “We need to know.”
With a trembling hand, I took the small white envelope from him. Whatever was inside slid down and made the envelope heavier on one end. Taking a deep breath, I chewed my lip as I slowly opened the envelope. Something fell to the floor.
Holding the envelope, I knelt down and picked up a ball chain necklace. As I lifted it, I saw a metal oval dangling from the end.
NO!
Memories of my mother receiving my father’s dog tags rushed into my head. My vision blurred and I tried to blink away the tears, but I had no control over them. I closed my hand around the cool metal and looked inside the white envelope, but I couldn’t see anything.
“The letter,” I cried. “Where’s the letter?”
I handed Phil the envelope and he looked inside and shook his head. Next he started pulling out the letters I wrote to Jagger. He unfolded each one and flipped them over, looking for a sign, a note, anything from his son. I knew what he was doing because it was exactly what I would have done if my tears hadn’t blinded me.
Wiping the tears with my fists, I opened my hand and read the embossed oval tag.
MYKA, JAGGER
739746393 O POS
CHRISTIAN
Feeling my legs go weak, I dropped into a nearby chair. My chest ached as I stared at the tag. Memories of my mother’s pain, mixed with my own from losing my dad so long ago flooded me. They mixed with my thoughts of Jagger and the tears started all over again.
I shook as my emotions ripped through me, forcing sobs from my throat. Phil wrapped his arms around me and as much as I wanted to run away with my tears in private, I felt comfort in his arms.
Neither of us said anything. We didn’t know exactly what happened, but we didn’t need the truth to smack us across the face. We had to accept what we already knew. Jagger was dead.
***
Christmas was solemn. Phil reached out to Jagger’s mom, but Melanie refused to talk to him. We didn’t want to have a service without Melanie there so we decided to wait until she was ready. Phil knew Melanie would have more details, but he didn’t want to press her.
I couldn’t stay in San Diego anymore. Everywhere I looked, I saw Jagger. His blue eyes, his half smile, all of it was imprinted on my brain. I didn’t want to forget him, but I needed some distance. I needed something to fill my mind so that I wasn’t obsessing about him. I had to stay busy.
Returning to Greystone was my saving grace. And so I wouldn’t have to go back home on breaks, I took the job with Chef Bleacher. I dove even further into my culinary education. I made everything about that just so I wouldn’t have the time to think about him.
But Jagger was always with me. Whenever I ran across Annie Hall on TV, saw a blooming dahlia, or sometimes when the wind blew a certain way, I thought of him. I kept the photos and videos he sent me and watched them often. As time passed, I had less tears and more laughter as I watched him gyrate and hip thrust towards the camera. He might have been gone, but I promised myself I would never forget him. Ever.
Part Two
Five Years Later
~ Thirteen ~
Sierra
“Please hurry, Sierra, we’re going to be late,” Brayden said.
“Okay,
Flipping the manila envelope over, I dumped its contents onto the desk. Phil started to grab the envelopes with me, turning them over as we looked for the letter Jagger wrote me.
“Where is it?!” I said, my voice catching as my throat tightened.
Phil picked up a small white envelope that made a sliding sound. He flipped it over, and I recognized Jagger’s handwriting from his father’s letter. Phil held it out to me, but I froze. I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to know the answer to the puzzle, if there even was an answer. I didn’t want anything to confirm what I feared the most, that Jagger was dead.
“Open it,” Phil said softly. “We need to know.”
With a trembling hand, I took the small white envelope from him. Whatever was inside slid down and made the envelope heavier on one end. Taking a deep breath, I chewed my lip as I slowly opened the envelope. Something fell to the floor.
Holding the envelope, I knelt down and picked up a ball chain necklace. As I lifted it, I saw a metal oval dangling from the end.
NO!
Memories of my mother receiving my father’s dog tags rushed into my head. My vision blurred and I tried to blink away the tears, but I had no control over them. I closed my hand around the cool metal and looked inside the white envelope, but I couldn’t see anything.
“The letter,” I cried. “Where’s the letter?”
I handed Phil the envelope and he looked inside and shook his head. Next he started pulling out the letters I wrote to Jagger. He unfolded each one and flipped them over, looking for a sign, a note, anything from his son. I knew what he was doing because it was exactly what I would have done if my tears hadn’t blinded me.
Wiping the tears with my fists, I opened my hand and read the embossed oval tag.
MYKA, JAGGER
739746393 O POS
CHRISTIAN
Feeling my legs go weak, I dropped into a nearby chair. My chest ached as I stared at the tag. Memories of my mother’s pain, mixed with my own from losing my dad so long ago flooded me. They mixed with my thoughts of Jagger and the tears started all over again.
I shook as my emotions ripped through me, forcing sobs from my throat. Phil wrapped his arms around me and as much as I wanted to run away with my tears in private, I felt comfort in his arms.
Neither of us said anything. We didn’t know exactly what happened, but we didn’t need the truth to smack us across the face. We had to accept what we already knew. Jagger was dead.
***
Christmas was solemn. Phil reached out to Jagger’s mom, but Melanie refused to talk to him. We didn’t want to have a service without Melanie there so we decided to wait until she was ready. Phil knew Melanie would have more details, but he didn’t want to press her.
I couldn’t stay in San Diego anymore. Everywhere I looked, I saw Jagger. His blue eyes, his half smile, all of it was imprinted on my brain. I didn’t want to forget him, but I needed some distance. I needed something to fill my mind so that I wasn’t obsessing about him. I had to stay busy.
Returning to Greystone was my saving grace. And so I wouldn’t have to go back home on breaks, I took the job with Chef Bleacher. I dove even further into my culinary education. I made everything about that just so I wouldn’t have the time to think about him.
But Jagger was always with me. Whenever I ran across Annie Hall on TV, saw a blooming dahlia, or sometimes when the wind blew a certain way, I thought of him. I kept the photos and videos he sent me and watched them often. As time passed, I had less tears and more laughter as I watched him gyrate and hip thrust towards the camera. He might have been gone, but I promised myself I would never forget him. Ever.
Part Two
Five Years Later
~ Thirteen ~
Sierra
“Please hurry, Sierra, we’re going to be late,” Brayden said.
“Okay,
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