I've never quite met someone like this, who doesn't seem to blame me, who seems to comprehend what war and death are like. Who almost seems to be trying to comfort me, when he's the one who lost a son.
"You will come to the wake?" he asks.
"Thank you, sir, but no," I reply, thinking of Katya. "This is your time to be together. I needed to say farewell but won't interfere."
"He told me a lot about you. They both did," the older man says.
I hear the sadness in his voice. I know his thoughts are as much on Petr as they are on Mikael.
"It was my pleasure to serve with them," I reply. "It was my first command, and they taught me how to be a better leader." I stop walking and face him, intending to go to the driveway rather than the house. "Sir, I want you to know …" My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. Today has been hard. "… excuse me. I just want you to know that I will be checking in on Petr. When he pulls through, I'll be here to help him. If there's anything you need, sir, anything at all, please don't hesitate to contact me." I give him my card with my email address.
Mr. Khavalov accepts it, his features warm. "You are always welcome in my family, Captain Mathis." He pats me on the arm. "Petr told me you have none of your own. You brought him home. You can consider this your home, too." He waves towards the mansion.
I nod briskly, not certain what to say. I brought one son home in a box and the other in a coma. How that earns me any sort of consideration from a man like this, I don't know.
But his words touch me. He's right. A ward of the state from the age of two until I was eighteen, my family is the Marine Corps and the elite, multi-forces group I command. They are the only family I need, and yet, I appreciate how generous he is being, given the circumstances.
I can't respond, so I bow my head, turn crisply and walk away. I find myself reaching for my good luck charm and stop, knowing it's lost somewhere in the deserts of Iraq after the gunfight a week ago.
It is not those who were lost but those who were saved that should be counted.
As much as I like the sentiment, I don't think this, either, will help me sleep at night. With a glance at my watch, I realize I've got about six hours to grab my gear and be back on base, before I'm headed back to Iraq.