I asked Cyrus to tell me about James.
Not about the battle.
Not about the day he died.
I wanted to know about the ordinary things.
"What was he like when you weren't fighting?"
Cyrus smiled faintly.
"He laughed a lot."
I smiled through my tears.
"Really?"
"More than I did."
He looked at the photograph.
"He was the kind of man who could make a bad morning feel less terrible."
I imagined my father sitting somewhere with him.
Two young men far from home.
Both tired.
Both trying to make the best of a situation neither had chosen.
Cyrus continued.
"Jimmy was always talking about his little girl."
I looked down.
"He had a picture?"
"Yes. He kept it close."
I remembered the old photograph at home.
The one of my father in uniform.
I wondered whether he had carried another picture of me.
Maybe the same one.
Maybe something I had never seen.
"He told you to look after me?"
Cyrus nodded.
"He said if he didn't make it home, I should find you."
I took a slow breath.
"Did you promise him?"
"I did."
He looked down at his hands.
"I meant it."
I believed him.
There was no reason to think otherwise.
But I still wondered why it had taken so long.
Cyrus seemed to understand.
"I didn't forget you, Roberta."
I looked at him.
"I know."
"No, I mean it. There wasn't a year when I didn't think about Jimmy's daughter."
His voice became quieter.
"I just didn't know how to come into your life after all that time."
I looked at the photograph.
"All I ever had was this picture of him."
Cyrus leaned forward.
"Then I'm glad you have another one now."
I looked at the two young Marines.
They seemed happy.
Not carefree exactly.
But close.
Their arms were around each other's shoulders.
They looked like friends who believed they would have many more years together.
I wondered whether they had known what was coming.
Whether my father had been afraid.
Whether Cyrus had been afraid.
Whether either of them had imagined that one day a woman would sit in a diner and learn their names from an old photograph.
I asked him about the date written on the back.
"January 1968."
He nodded.
"That was before everything happened in February."
I touched the writing.
"Hue City."
"Yes."
I looked at him.
"Is that where you were when you were shot?"
He nodded.
I didn't ask him to describe the wounds.
The letter had already told me enough.
I knew he had been unable to move.
I knew my father had pulled him to safety.
And I knew James had gone back.
I didn't need more details to understand the cost.
Cyrus looked toward the window.
"There were things I wished I could have said to him afterward."
I stayed quiet.
"I wanted to thank him properly."
"You couldn't?"
He shook his head.
"Not then."
I looked at him.
"You were injured."
"I was alive because of him."
His eyes filled again.
"I've had a long time to think about that."
I didn't know how to comfort him.
I couldn't tell him not to feel guilty.
I couldn't tell him that my father would have wanted him to live.
I had no way of knowing exactly what James would have said.
But I knew one thing.
My father had run toward his friend.
He had not left him behind.
And Cyrus had spent the rest of his life honoring that act.
I reached for the letter.
"Can I keep this?"
Cyrus nodded.
"Of course."
"And the photograph?"
"It's yours."
I carefully placed both inside the envelope.
I didn't want to damage anything.
The paper had already survived so many years.
I wanted it to survive many more.
Chad returned with a fresh napkin.
He placed it beside me without saying anything.
I thanked him.
He looked at Cyrus.
Then at the empty seat.
"I never knew."
Cyrus nodded.
"Most people didn't."
Chad stood quietly for another moment.
Then he returned to the counter.
I looked at Cyrus.
"Do you think my father would recognize me?"
He smiled.
"I think he would have recognized that smile."
I touched my mouth.
I hadn't realized I was smiling.
It was the same crooked smile I had seen in the photograph.
And for once, I didn't feel sad looking at it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Second Coffee Was No Longer Just An Old Man’s Private Ritual Once I Finally Understood Who Had Been Missing From The Table
The Old Marine Who Came Back Every Year and Ordered Two Coffees Had Left Something Behind That Changed Everything I Knew About My Father
Part 6 of 10
