Chapter 44
Wes
My house is dark and quiet when I get home.
I got on the first flight out of Denver and came right back here.
I thought it would help me feel like I could breathe, but the entire plane ride I was tense without a single distraction.
I tried putting my headphones on and using loud music to drown out the thoughts threatening to consume me, but it didn’t work.
All I wanted was Bailey next to me, her soft hand on my arm, talking to me about anything and everything.
Drawing my mind away from the fact that I’m not the one driving the plane.
Without her here, all I have is myself and my thoughts.
Which means that every time I try closing my eyes all I see is the explosions around me.
All I hear is the sound of them with the calls of my fellow soldiers.
All I feel is the pain in my leg from the brutal injury and the metal sticking from it.
I thought I would feel better once I was back home, but it’s worse. Bruno is still with Jameson and Sutton. I’ll go get him in the morning and then I’ll probably have to tell Gloria I can’t keep him anymore. I shouldn’t have let him get so comfortable, but I’ve been selfish.
I’ve been selfish with everyone. With him, with Bailey, and this is why I keep to myself. I let her in and she reminded me why I can’t do that. I don’t need everyone to know fireworks set me off. It just reminded me of how she sees me, and how anyone sees me once they learn anything about me.
Weak.
I’m fucking weak.
I may not look like it. To everyone else I look big, intimidating, but inside all I am is fucking weak.
Because my mind won’t stop, I resort to the single and only coping mechanism I know that works. I get in my car and drive. I know this is going to be a long one because I don’t see myself sleeping for a while.
I drive until the sun is rising on the horizon, and then I go to Jameson’s in an attempt to distract myself by working around the farm.
Nothing is helping, driving at least occupies my mind enough that the flashbacks don’t play as rampantly.
I don’t feel better, but I’m as close to numb as I possibly can be.
I’m running on autopilot, keeping busy with whatever tasks I can find around the barn when Jameson appears in the entryway.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t coming back until after the new year?” he asks.
“Came back early,” I grunt, moving the last bale of hay. My hands are burning from the twine digging into my skin and my muscles ache from the heavy lifting, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
“I can see that. Was there a problem?”
“Just needed to be back.”
I can tell he doesn’t believe me and he shouldn’t, but I’m not saying anything else about it. The last thing I need is more people finding out the truth about me. The one Bailey already knows, and had to announce to her family. The thought has me pissed off all over again.
“Bruno will be happy to see you, I’m sure.”
“Mhm.”
I’m sure Jameson can tell he’s not getting more out of me as I continue with the manual labor. I hear the steady sounds of paws hitting the ground before I see the four dogs appearing in the barn followed closely by Sutton.
“Hey Wes, I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Yup.” I can feel the tenseness in the air, I just don’t know if it’s all coming from me. It probably is, but who gives a fuck. “I’ll just take Bruno off your hands and head out.”
“Sure. He had fun and can come back over any time.” Sutton smiles softly.
“Do you want to keep him?” I can’t help but ask.
“No, that dog is yours through and through.”
Yeah, except he’s not.
“See ya,” I tell them because I don’t know what else to say. The moment is awkward and I don’t foresee it getting any better.
“Okay, bye,” Sutton says softly. I can hear the concern in her voice, but I don’t want it. All I want is for people to leave me the fuck alone.
I don’t want people looking at me with pity, thinking I’m weak, concerned about my wellbeing. I suddenly miss the days where I never really talked to anyone. I did what I wanted without the concern of others.
It helps me remember why I don’t let people into my life because this is what happens and I’m over it.
Bruno hops in my car, and I don’t even say anything to him, but I think he can tell something is wrong. He drops his head and even though there’s a hint of guilt as I drive toward the animal shelter, the numbness takes over.
It would be selfish to keep him. He can’t live like this and he doesn’t deserve it, either. He doesn’t need someone who can’t give him enough. I can never give anyone enough of myself because there’s nothing to give.
Once we get there, I’m greeted by Gloria whose smile drops when she sees Bruno next to me.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, concerned.
“No, I just don’t think I can foster him anymore.”
“Oh,” she sighs. “Well, I really thought this would end a little differently and it would be easier to tell you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You weren’t fostering him. I had you fill out the adoption paperwork. I was sure you’d decide to keep him.”
“You what?” I snap, harsher than I probably should.
“I saw you and him together and I was so sure you’d decide you wanted to keep him.”
“Well that wasn’t your decision to make, was it?”
Her voice is dejected as she continues. “No, it wasn’t. I really am sorry. If you really don’t want to keep him, we can go through the surrender process.”
I grip his leash tighter, the leather biting into my skin. “No.”
Even though I feel completely lost, there’s no way I could live with myself if I left him in there once again. To let him think he was rejected from another home just because I’m the problem.
And I am the problem. I’m going to be selfish, and when we get back in the car I sigh heavily. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me, and what a shitty life that is.”
I don’t even want to be in my own life, and now I’m subjecting someone else to it.
Fucking selfish.
Fucking weak.
Bailey’s been back, but I haven’t seen her. I haven’t seen anyone. I’m avoiding everyone because I don’t want to see the looks on their faces or hear what they have to say. I haven’t even looked at my phone in several days.
When I finally do, I see several missed calls from Chris. Which is extremely unusual and even though I would rather not talk to anyone, I manage to call him back, a sinking feeling taking root in my gut. Especially after our last conversation where he was clearly struggling.
A woman answers the phone. “Hello?” Her voice cracks and my stomach drops.
“Hi. I have a few missed calls from Chris, is he around?”
The woman sniffles. “It was from me. I saw he talked to you before….” Her voice trails off and the pit in my stomach only grows.
This isn’t the first phone call like this I’ve gotten, and I feel like I know exactly what’s coming.
She doesn’t even need to say it, but she speaks through her sobs. “I found him two days ago.”
I can hear what she’s not saying. She found him. Dead.
She continues on, as though she’s reliving the moment and I don’t say anything. “He wasn’t answering me and when I came to check on him he was already gone.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” My voice is steady, but sounds so far away to my own ears.
Her sobs take over and I’m unable to understand anything else she says. I don’t do well with crying, but even more so I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s like my mind has shut off completely. Detached itself. My body, my mind, and my emotions, they’re all separated.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “His funeral is next weekend if you’re able to come.”
Again, my voice doesn’t sound like my own. “Maybe.”
She makes a noise of understanding before we hang up.
As soon as we do, the heaviness hits me.
The thoughts I try to keep at bay. The guilt of survival is back in full force.
Chris had people in his life that loved and cared about him.
He had more than I do and still he chose to end it all.
He’s not the first of my friends to do so.
In fact, we were a couple of the only people from our team still living. Now he’s gone too.
What’s stopping me from doing the same? I shouldn’t be alive anyway.