The worst day of my life was July 6th, six years ago. That was the day I left for boot camp and was the last day I would see my girlfriend Vini for my entire six-year enlistment.

I was never much of a student, so I didn’t have any scholarships, and my parents didn’t have any money to pay for me to go to college, so I figured I’d let Uncle Sam pay for it. Sure, the politicians were talking about student loan forgiveness, and by the time I finished my college education it may have become a reality, but I didn’t want to take that chance. I even got a signing bonus after completing the six years, which I planned to use towards a house.

I came from a family that didn’t believe in debt. If we couldn’t afford it, we didn’t get it—period. I went without many of the hot new gadgets my friends had, but I had a pretty good life with a loving family.

My family’s issues with debt stemmed from my grandfather losing his farm in foreclosure in the eighties. It was a common story, from what I was told, and my dad never trusted a bank since. He worked two jobs and saved before he bought our small ranch house. Some people call that kind of house a rambler, others call them matchboxes. We called it home.

I started dating Vincensia Antonelli when we were fifteen in our first year of high school. She was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. With dark brown hair, brown eyes, and the curves of her ancestors—she looked like Sophia Loren.

We hit it off during lunch and built a relationship so solid, I asked her to marry me the day before I left for boot camp. She said no.

She hated the fact I was going into the Army and would be gone for six years. I’d have some leave in there and would see her every chance I got, but she couldn’t take it. She was convinced I would cheat on her, and she couldn’t sit at home worrying about that.

I thought she was nuts. I was never going to cheat on her, I was deeply in love with her, and I knew I’d never find anyone as perfect.

On top of her outward beauty, she was a beautiful person on the inside. She loved kids, she loved animals, and she loved her friends and family with a generosity that I admired.

I was crushed when she broke up with me and told me she hoped we found each other again someday. I didn’t understand that at all. If she still wanted to be with me in the future, why not just stay and marry me?

I watched her drive away from my parents’ home until her taillights disappeared in the pouring rain.

I sent her an email every week keeping her updated on my life in the service, and she never replied. It didn’t stop me; I never got over her. I remained faithful to her throughout my enlistment. I went home on leave a few times, but she wouldn’t see me. The sadness in her mom’s eyes each time she sent me away was difficult to bear. Her father begged me to move on and stop tormenting myself. He called Vini a fool, but a fool old enough to make her own decisions. I hated it, but eventually I relented and stopped trying to see her. I still sent the emails.

None of our friends were able to give me any updates, as she cut off all contact with them when she went to college, and completely dropped off of social media. They were upset with her as well.

After four years, I was home during the time she would have finished school. I bought some flowers, drove to her parents’ home, and left them on the porch along with a birthstone bracelet I found in a little shop in Italy. Attached was a card that simply said, “Always thinking of you.”

When I got home from dropping off the gift, my mom noticed my sadness, and said, “Jonathan, when are you going to give up on that girl?”

“Never,” I answered and went to my room.

She followed me and said, “You know, there are rumors going around about her?”

“Like what?” I demanded. Any bit of information would be better than the nothing I got for four years.

“The biggest one is that she went off to school and got pregnant.”

I winced and she noticed.

“It’s just a rumor, Son.”

I shrugged. “What else are people saying?”

“Some say she never went to college, and she’s been living with her parents like a recluse. No one’s ever seen her around town though, so that one might be closer to true.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. She wanted to be a teacher. She’d have to go to school for that, right?”

Mom nodded.

“I just don’t get it, Mom. Why won’t she tell me anything. Hell, I sometimes wish she would just tell me to fuck off, so I’d get over her.”

“Jonathan, language.”

“Sorry, Mom. I just don’t understand and it’s driving me crazy.”

“I think you need to let her go, Son. Move on and find another woman who wants your love.”

I shook my head, “No way, Mom. I’ll give her the whole six years and then let her tell me she doesn’t want me when I’m home.”

“I love you, John, but I think you’re heading for a heartbreak.”

“What else can I do, Mom? I still love her as much as I did when I left.”

She hugged me and said, “You’re gonna make a woman who deserves you so happy one day.”

She pinched my cheek, smiled wanly, and left me to my thoughts.

I came back from the service when my enlistment was up and was mobbed by a large group from my small town at the airport. I didn’t expect any kind of reception, I hadn’t been shipped off to war or anything like that. I just served my time on basic duty assignments.

After hugging too many people to count, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Antonelli. They each hugged me and welcomed me home. I looked behind them and Vini’s mom said, “She’s not here, John. I’m sorry.”

“But I’m out now?” I begged. “Why not?”

I saw the tear fall down her cheek, and then I saw it from a distance. About twenty feet away stood a woman wearing jeans and a t-shirt, wearing a hijab but holding the neck covering up to cover the bottom of her face—she was crying and wore the bracelet I bought for Vini in Italy.

“Vini!” I shouted and the entire group turned to look where I was yelling.

I pushed through her parents and while I struggled to get to her, she took off running. Just as I was about to catch her, she turned into a ladies’ restroom.

I was about to run in, but a security guard was watching me.

I threw my hands up in disgust and shouted, “Mom, she went in there, get her to talk to me, please.”

As mom turned to go in, Mrs. Antonelli grabbed her arm.

“Don’t, Sharon. I’ll go in, but I’m begging you to get everyone to leave. We’ll come over tonight and explain everything, but please don’t go in there. She’s not in a good frame of mind.”

“Anna, what’s going on?” my dad asked Vini’s mom.

She looked at him sadly and said, “Jack, please take your son and go home. We’ll come by later and tell you everything, but if you don’t leave, she’ll never come out of there.”

My dad took me by the shoulder and said, “Come on, Kid. Let’s let them get it sorted out and we’ll wait for them to come over later.”

I spat, “If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I will be relentless trying to see her. You’ll have to jail me for harassment or stalking. I have to see her, God damn it! I love her.”

Mr. Antonelli touched my shoulder with a tear in his eye, and said, “John, I promise we will tell you everything tonight. I’m not sure it will help ease what you’re going through, but at least you’ll know what happened.

My parents practically had to drag me away. I wanted to wait by the airport’s exit door, but my dad told me to stop being a hot head, and I caved.

The hours felt like days as I waited for the doorbell to ring. My parents tried to keep me occupied with stories and pictures from the events I missed, but my mind wouldn’t focus on anything but Vini and why she hid and ran when I saw her.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and interrupted my mom telling me another story about Uncle Gene drinking too much at Thanksgiving.

I jumped over the back of the couch and swung the door open, hoping against hope Vini would be standing there. It was just her parents.

My shoulders dropped as I motioned them to come in.

My parents exchanged greetings with them, and we all sat on the couches in our front room.

“John,” Mr. Antonelli started, “she loves you. She never stopped loving you and she’s on the verge of a mental breakdown over not being able to see you.”

“I’m right here,” I interrupted.

He nodded and let out a deep breath.

Then he took his wife’s hand and said, “On the day she broke up with you, she was in a car accident. It was bad, really bad. One of her arms was broken, and other arm was pinned in the car in such a way that she couldn’t reach the seat belt release.”

I stared at him as tears fell down my cheek.

“The car started on fire, and she...”

He broke down crying, and my mom rushed to his other side to take his hand and console him.

Mrs. Antonelli continued for him, “John, she was burned badly. Her right arm, part of her stomach and chest, but worst of all was her face. Her neck and cheek were burned the worst as they were exposed longest to the fire without covering.”

“I don’t understand, why won’t she talk to me? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She didn’t want you to know. She doesn’t want you to see her with how her face looks now. She hoped you’d give up on her and...”

I didn’t hear the rest as I was heading out the door. I started my dad’s truck and screeched out of driveway to go to Vini.

I smiled when I found the spare key in the hanging plant by the back door. I guessed old habits died hard, but there wasn’t much crime in our little rural town to be worried about.

I opened the door slowly and heard the television on in the basement. I knew which steps creaked, from when we’d need to break apart quickly from our old make out sessions, and avoided them as I crept down.

My stomach was in knots and sweat beaded on my forehead as I worried how she would react to my intrusion. I just hoped she’d talk to me.

I saw her sitting on the couch with her back to me. She was watching something I didn’t recognize with the volume turned up high. I wondered if she had hearing issues from the accident.

I stood a couple of feet behind her and cried. I was losing the courage to talk to her rapidly and my heart was hurting for her.

I took a deep breath and said, “I don’t care what you look like.”

She screamed and ran into the laundry room, closing the door behind her. I turned the TV off and stood in front of the door.

“Vini?” I begged.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” she yelled.

I touched the door and set my forehead on it.

“Vini, I love you more today than I did when I left. I don’t care what happened to you in the accident. I need you in my life.”

I heard a thump on the bottom of the cheap wooden door, then she began sobbing.

“Baby, please talk to me. Please let me hold you again.”

She didn’t say anything, and I sat against the door. I fought every urge to smash it into splinters.

“Vini, I emailed you every week, did you read them?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Then you know how I feel about you. Please, don’t make me go. I will if you want, but I won’t give up. I’ll keep trying to make you love me again.”

The only sound I heard was her crying. A few minutes later, her parents came down the stairs. Their tears mirrored mine as they watched me sitting against the door.

“John, I think you’d better go,” her dad said, and I nodded.

I turned and touched the door where I assumed her head was, and said, “I’m leaving, Vini. I’m sorry I barged in like this, but I had to see you. I had to make sure you know how I feel about you.”

I rubbed the door and stood.

Her parents hugged me in turn, and I apologized for entering their home without permission.

“I’m not giving up on her,” I said as I walked up the stairs. Nothing would keep me from her.

A week later, I hadn’t heard anything from Vini. I emailed her every day with no reply, but I didn’t go to her home. Breaking into their house once was enough trouble for me.

I hadn’t been paying attention to dates, and I was surprised to see it was Vini’s birthday. I went shopping, then called Vini’s father to let him know what I wanted to do. He thought it was a dumb idea, but he told me I could do what I wanted.

At five, I lifted the cover off the Antonelli’s grill and enjoyed the smell of the smoke from the white and gray briquettes. I placed the steaks over the coals and moved the corn to the side. I looked at her bedroom window and saw it was open. I knew the smell of the grill would be wafting through her window.

She loved meat off the grill, and her favorite was filet mignon. She used to sit outside when her dad cooked out just to smell the smoke. Her dad thought she did it to spend some time with him. I never told him the truth.

I flipped the steaks and opened the bottle of wine. I made sure the tablecloth was straight, and everything set on it was perfect.

It was silly, but I lit two candles before I plated the steaks to rest. The sun was nowhere near setting, so the candles were nothing more than ambience.

I looked up and saw that she had closed her window. I sighed and sat on the bench seat, still hoping she would join me.

After fifteen minutes, I knew she wasn’t coming out. I took her plate and a glass of wine to her mother who accepted it sadly.

I said, “Please give her this. If she won’t join me, at least we can eat together, apart.”

“I’m sorry, John. We tried to get her to join you.”

“It’s okay. she’d better eat before it gets too cold.”

I sat at the table and watched her window as I ate her birthday dinner. The curtain stayed mostly closed, but she had opened the window again.

“Happy birthday,” I said, unsure if she could hear me.

There was no answer, so I went back to eating and watching.

After finishing, I said, “I have your favorite cake if you’d like some.”

She loved atomic cakes. I got a small one from the baker we have in town.

I cut a large piece for her and took it into the house. I was shocked to see her standing in the kitchen.

I froze for a moment, then took in her appearance. She looked the same except for the side of her face with the burns. Her skin was pink, scarred, and wrinkled along the entire side of her face and neck. Her eye and eyebrow were unscathed. Even after seeing her, I didn’t understand why she thought she was so ugly she had to hide herself away.

I stepped towards her and set the cake on the table along the way. I grabbed her in my arms and pulled her into me.

I felt her sobbing into my chest as we embraced. I never wanted to let her go again, then she whispered, “Can I breathe now?”

“Sorry,” I said as I relaxed my grip but still held her.

I kissed the top of her head and said, “I love you so much, will you please marry me now?”

She pushed me away and shouted, “Are you crazy? Look at me! I’m disgusting.”

I took her hand and said, “You’re the same beautiful woman you were when you drove away from me that day.”

“Stop lying!” she screamed. “I have a mirror. I know what I look like.”

I shook my head and tried to pull her back into me, but she backed away.

“I’m not lying. The burns don’t matter to me, it was your butt I always liked anyway.”

She finally smiled.

“Please, Vini. Come back to me. Let me feel your love again.”

She shook her head and ran to her bedroom.

I sat at the kitchen table and wondered why I couldn’t let her go.

Her dad sat down and said, “Take it slow, John. I think it took a tremendous amount of courage for her to let you see her. I’m surprised she didn’t wear the face covering.”

“She doesn’t look that bad, Sir. Why does she think she’s so horrible looking?”

“It’s been hard, hard on all of us, these last six years. After her surgeries and when she was finally out of the hospital, she didn’t leave her room for months. We tried to get her into counseling, therapy, you name it—but she’d never do it. There have been times we worried she would take her own life. Thank God, she hasn’t.”

I was shocked. “She never went to college?”

“She got a degree online,” he answered. “She’s working for a bank as a quality analyst. Obviously, it’s a remote position.”

I nodded, and asked, “Do you think there’s a chance for me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I don’t know, John, but the wife and I hope so.”

A week later, I was surprised to get an email from Vini.

“You stopped emailing me.”

I had. I didn’t contact her in any way. My parents convinced me to put the ball in her court, so to speak. To make her miss me. In my mom’s opinion, Vini never lost me because I stayed connected. She felt I should make Vini miss me. I agreed. I had never thought of it that way. I kept giving her a line into my life, which is all she wanted, without her having to contact me in return.