Chapter Thirty-Four
Sloane
“Good news, Captain Davidson,” Dr. Warneke said when he walked in my room. “You’re healthy enough to be transported back to the States.”
Finally! I’d been a big enough pain in the ass that they were sending me home. I’d told Ryan on our last call I expected it would happen soon.
Then the doctor added, “The Army’s Burn Center at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio had a bed open up.”
Cue record scratch.
“I’m not going back to Camp Pendleton?”
“No. They’re not equipped to handle how extensive your injuries are. You’re in for dozens of more skin grafts before you can even think about beginning physical therapy and getting fitted for a prosthetic. Not to mention, Sam Houston has an excellent mental health team.”
“So, what are you saying, Doc?” I said dryly. “I need mental help?”
He raised one grey bushy eyebrow at me but didn’t say anything.
“Look, this”—I gestured from the left side of my face down my body—“is taking some getting used to. But I’m coming to terms with it.”
“I’ve been straightforward with you about your need for emotional therapy, Sloane. Yet, you stubbornly won’t work with the therapists here or take part in any support groups. I’m hoping once you’re back on United States soil, maybe someone will be able to get through to you. You’ve been through a lot, it's understandable that you’re struggling emotionally, too.”
“I’m not struggling emotionally,” I retorted defiantly.
“Is that why you only allowed one visitor, for one weekend, and returned dozens of your girlfriend’s letters? Because you’ve got it all together?”
If I didn’t think Major Branson would hand me my ass without any regard that I was burned and disfigured, I would have told Dr. Warneke where he could stick his assessment of my psychological health.
Instead, I bit my tongue and asked, “When will I be leaving?”
“You’re scheduled to be transferred on Friday.”
Two days. I could make it two more days without my mouth getting me in trouble.
~~~~
“That’s great news, buddy. Just let me know when and a few of us will be on the next flight out.”
“Nah, you don’t need to go to all that trouble. I know Grace’s residency match is coming up.”
“It’s no trouble; Match Day is exactly that—one day. I’m sure I can work around that. Besides, Craig and I want to help get you situated in your new place.”
“It’s not like a fucking apartment. It’s a hospital room with, like, two drawers. It’s not a lot of work to move two drawers’ worth of stuff in.”
“We’d kind of like to see you, too, asshole.”
Fuck.
I was being an asshole.
I’d never been an asshole to my friends. Maybe Dr. Warneke wasn’t as far off-base as I thought.
“How about this? Let me get settled and see what the doctors there have planned as far as surgeries go, and we’ll come up with a date for you to come in April or May.”
“I hope you’re not just attempting to kick the can down the road with the hope I’ll forget or give up.”
“I know you too well to think that.” My friend could be as stubborn as I could. Attempting to change the subject, I asked, “How’s my dog?”
~~~~
We decided Ryan and Craig would come for a visit on April sixteenth.
When the day arrived, I was chomping at the bit to see them, and not because I was excited for their company. They were going to get an earful from me.
I at least had the wherewithal to let Craig get used to my appearance and exchange pleasantries first.
Ryan studied me for a minute before he said, “I expected your face to be worse than it is. I mean, it’s still fucked up, but it’s not as bad as I thought.”
“My helmet protected me somewhat, so the burns on my face were only second degree. I’m still going to be scarred, but it won’t be as severe as the rest of my body.”
“That’s good news. Maybe you’ll actually be able to get laid again someday.”
And there was my opening.
“Yeah, speaking of that. Which one of you has been talking to Ashley?”
The two men looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Not me.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then how the fuck did she know I’m in San Antonio?”
“Did she come visit you?” Ryan asked incredulously. “You better not have been a dick again to that girl.”
“No, she didn’t come visit. She called. Luckily, I wasn’t in my room, and the nurse came looking for me to tell me I had a phone call from Ashley Youngman.”
“So, what did you say to her?” Craig asked.
“I had the nurse tell her I wasn’t allowed to have phone calls.”
Ryan shook his head in disgust.
“You’re such an idiot. Why would you do that?”
Because I knew if I heard her voice again, the regret I’d been trying to bury would surface again. I had so many feelings when it came to her: regret, guilt, sorrow. I was in no condition to face them.
“What would be the point? I was really hoping she’d have moved on by now. She deserves someone way better than me.”
“For once, I don’t disagree with you.”
Ouch.
The truth hurt.