Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
DUSTIN
H aving Dax show up with our parents is the only saving grace this experience has to offer. I love my mother, but I have no doubt if I were in this back seat alone, I would’ve already opened the door and let myself fall out of this moving car. I know she’s excited to see me and trying to hide the sadness and pity she’s feeling, but I’d almost welcome the sadness and pity over her naming off all the things I should partake in back home.
I want to ask her if she missed the memo…that I’m missing a hand. And then remember I never told her or anyone the extent of my injuries. With the sling on, it’s not obvious I’m missing my hand.
“Ma.” I try to interrupt the convo she seems to be having with herself. “Ma,” I say again, a little bit louder. “MA!” I yell as my dad slams on the brakes in traffic, causing us all to plummet forward in our seats. Thank God for seat belts or Dax and I would’ve face-planted the headrests.
My dad apologizes and my mom finally looks back. “Yes, honey?”
I sigh and throw my hand through my hair, dreading the inevitable pity I’m about to receive—from all parties in the car. “I know you’re trying to help.”
She nods, saying, “Yes.”
“But you’re not.”
Her face falls at my bluntness.
“I’m not going to be able to do all the things you’ve been mentioning. No big projects with Dad. No doing the lawn care for all the little old ladies. No helping coach the baseball team.”
“I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I wasn’t trying to volunteer your services out. I just thought…” she starts, but I interject.
“I was sent home for a reason, Ma.” My voice drops.
“Right, you’re so right. You were sent home to recuperate, not work.” She goes on her tangent, apologizing and saying it was a dumb idea, but she knew I wouldn’t want to be couped up in the house. I let out a heavy sigh, drop my head back, and tightly close my eyes. Scrunching my face together, I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the oncoming headache.
“Mom.” Dax steps in, coming to the rescue. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can. Be quiet and let people talk.” I glance over at my brother in awe, wanting to high-five him. “You don’t know what’s going on. None of us do. So for the love of God, let Dustin talk before you make him clam up again.” I hear a slight huff from the passenger seat, but nothing more. Dax looks over at me and smiles, gesturing with his hands. “The floor is yours.”
“Yes, I’m back home to recuperate, but my career with the Army is over.”
“Oh, thank God!” my mom says with glee.
“Mom,” Dax warns. My dad remains quiet, per usual.
“For shit’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, pulling the sling off my arm. The black amputee compression sock covers what’s left of my forearm to my elbow.
My mother lets out an audible gasp, throwing her hand to her mouth in horror.
“What happened?” she shrieks.
“Looks like he lost his hand,” Dax replies matter-of-factly and I suppress a laugh. He’s not going to pity me, and for that I’m grateful.
“Dax.” She gasps and turns in her seat, looking behind her toward my brother. I can hear the butt chewing now for him being insensitive about the situation. But she seems to have forgotten we’re adults now, and he stops her dead in her tracks.
“No, Mom. I hate that Dustin is injured. I would never wish that on anyone. But I’d much rather have my brother return with a missing hand and bruised ego than not return at all. Some people aren’t that lucky.” His words drive the point home and I’m left wondering if it stems from him losing his best friend, or if he knows something I don’t. Like what happened to Brian. All I can do is hope he survived the attack or this missing hand and losing my career would’ve all been for nothing.
We all sit in silence for the rest of the ride, and for once, I welcome it.
“HEAD ON IN. I’ll grab your bags,” Dax says.
I look up and glare at him as he holds the door open, waiting for me to get out.
I grit out, “Thanks,” causing my younger brother to chuckle. I hold back the smile threatening to spread across my face. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed him. I’ve avoided this house and my family like the plague. I shouldn’t have taken everything out on them by staying away. It’s just this town only reminds me of what I’ve lost.
I pause and look up at the sky. It’s not bright and lit up with stars. Tonight, it seems a bit gloomy. Like it’s welcoming me home but knows I’m not happy about it. The constellations are more vivid in the vast openness overseas. Now I can barely make out the Big Dipper.
As soon as my feet hit the threshold, I’m hit with the same floral scent my mom has used since I was a kid.
“Are you hungry?” She wraps her arms around my good arm, pulling me toward the kitchen, and I fight the instinct to pull away. “When everyone heard you were coming home, they started flooding the house with all these meals and desserts. It’s just so nice to be in such a supportive community. Everyone has missed you.” She rambles and rambles, and I start to block her out.
“I’m not hungry,” I grumble as my feet come to a halt.
Her face is a mixture of shock and sadness once I turn my stone-cold expression her way. I can see tears forming, and for a second, my fa?ade falters. I don’t want to be the cause of her sadness. She’s done nothing wrong. But just like she’s always been, she doesn’t know when to quit. So I’d like to say she brings it all on herself.
“Are you sure? Mrs. Trudy brought over lasagna. I know that’s your favorite.” She walks off, expecting me to follow. Her voice returns to its chipper tone.
“I said I’m not hungry,” I bite out, trying to control my annoyance. It’s as if being in this house has altered my ego.
“Dax,” my mother calls, keeping her back to me. “Will you go ahead and take Dustin’s bags up to his old room?”
I want to tell her thank you…maybe even apologize for my harshness, but anytime I show the slightest bit of anything besides rudeness, she seems to take it as some mother-son bonding time. And that’s something I’m just not interested in.
“I swear. That woman hasn’t changed,” I huff as soon as I reach the top step.
“And neither has your room.” Dax snickers as he opens the door and pushes it in. “Welcome back to two thousand one.” He drops my bags near the closet.
“If only I could go back to two thousand one,” I murmur as I scan the room I left behind so long ago.
“Why in the world would you want to go back to high school?” Dax crosses his arms as he leans back against my dresser.
“No reason.” I drop down on my bed and start messing with the sling. It’s been rubbing on the back of my neck all day and I’m ready to get the pain in my ass off. I know I look like a monkey, dipping my head and reaching behind with my hand to pull the strap up. I don’t bother to look at Dax. I know he’s watching me—probably with a mixture of amusement and pity. I know he feels bad for me being injured. What family member wouldn’t? But unlike the rest, he’ll never make me feel it. I don’t want to feel or see the sadness that my missing hand causes people.
I groan, carefully sliding my arm out, then toss the contraption across the room. “That’s a bitch to get off when you only got one hand.” I attempt to make light of the situation.
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry? Mom bought some bananas, strawberries, Poptarts, Fruity Pebbles…” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And pretty much anything you liked as a kid. Which means the whole store.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“Glad to see you’re still a comedian.” I begin to unbutton my fatigue jacket. I’m ready to be out of this uniform once and for all. No use in dragging out the inevitable.
“Well.” Dax cocks a brow. “You did take all the asshole genes.” While his tone is light-hearted, his words ring true.
“Boys!” We both look toward the door. “I made you both a plate of food!” our mother yells from downstairs. I half smile because it brings back so many memories. But then remember I told her twice I wasn’t hungry and my smile dissipates.
Dax shakes his head and snickers. “She never listened when we were kids. Why do you think she would now?”
“Because we’re adults,” I say, stating the obvious. “Well, at least I am.”
“Hey now.” Dax holds his hands out in defense. “I’m just a kid at heart.” He closes his eyes, lifting his nose as he sniffs. “A hungry one.”
Dax leaves the room, and I welcome the solitude. I stand up and walk to the door.
“Where’s Dustin?” Ma asks.
“He’s upstairs. Remember he told you he wasn’t hungry? I know you’re only trying to help, but this is a huge adjustment for him.” I can hear the plea in Dax’s voice practically begging her to back off. He tells her all these things and I love him for it, but I know it’s pointless. It’s like everything you tell the woman goes in one ear and out the other. She hears you loud and clear. I think she has selective memory. Not memory loss. I believe she just remembers what she wants and when she wants.
I remind myself that being here is only temporary until I get my own place. My own place. I haven’t ever had one of those. I don’t even have a clue where to go from here. The only thing I’ve ever known besides baseball and this town has been the Army. I’m just uncertain where I fit into the world anymore, since the one constant I had was stolen from me.
I close my door and pull one arm at a time out of my jacket, cautious not to hit my injury. I stand, staring into the mirror that’s still mounted to the back of my door. I inspect how I look. I look like shit. Both arms hang at my sides. I hold my arm out in front of me. The instinct to move my fingers is there, but they aren’t. I bend my arm at my elbow, noticing that for the most part I have a fully functioning arm. This will be an adjustment for sure, but that’s all.
“It could’ve been worse,” I say to myself in the mirror as a reminder. “You’re too prideful for any pity parties—even personal ones you want to host for yourself.” I hold my injured arm up to the mirror. “As much as you’d like to think you’d rather not be, you’re lucky to be alive. Time to start living like it.” I let out a deep breath and twist the knob to the door.
Time to go act like I’m hungry.
“See, I knew he’d want to eat!” my mother exclaims, accepting the victory, and I almost retreat back to my room. I sit down across from Dax where the plate she made me sits.
I look straight at my brother and want to reach across the table and slap the smirk off his face—just like old times. I bet this time I could get away with it. My, how the tables have turned. I can hear Dax being all whiny like, “Mom, aren’t you going to get onto him?”
The image makes me snort. Everyone looks at me, and I deflect. “Where’s that woman of yours and my niece?”
“Technically,” my mother starts, and I instantly stop her in her tracks, knowing how she’s about to clarify Blu not being biologically Dax’s daughter.
“Screw technicalities,” I blurt.
My mother gasps.
Dax chuckles from across the table.
And my lips curve up into an involuntary smile.
I don’t want to smile. But I can’t control it and it kind of feels nice.