Chapter Forty
Sloane
“I want to go home,” I grumbled for what felt like the millionth time.
Being a major pain in the ass had worked in Germany. They’d sent me back to the States the second I’d been able to travel. The doctors at the Army’s Burn Center at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, however, were a bit more stubborn about giving in to my demands. These army guys didn’t give a shit about my rank in the Marines.
The number of surgeries I’d gone through in the last nine months were too numerous to count, and the pain could be unbearable on my bad days, but I was alive.
“One of the lucky ones”, I was told on more than one occasion.
It took me a long time to believe that was true.
Shawn O’Brien, my second lieutenant, hadn’t been so lucky. And I hadn’t even been able to go to his funeral. I knew that would bother me forever. I should have been there to pay my respects.
But I’d come to realize that I could honor my fellow Marine’s life by living mine to the fullest. And that started with going home.
I’d been verbalizing my desire—a lot. To the point I was purposefully becoming annoying. But I was ready to get back to my new semblance of normalcy in San Diego. Although I wasn’t sure what that would even look like.
One thing I did know, I had some amends to make.
“Other than the obvious physical therapy for your prosthetic, you’re in for more surgeries,” the doctor warned me.
“As long as I can go home afterward and not have to sit in a hospital room, I don’t care.”
“That’s part of the problem, Sloane,” Missy, the VA social worker chimed in. “You don’t have a home to go to yet.”
She was right. Since I hadn’t known how long my deployment would be, I’d put all my things in storage and hadn’t renewed the lease for my condo. Finding a place after returning from long deployments had been easy enough in the past, but this time I knew I was going to need assistance.
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be helping me with?”
“Since you’re not interested in the Recovery Coordination Program, it’s not that easy. I’ve put some calls in but haven’t had any luck finding you a place suitable for your condition.”
My condition. My condition was I was a fucking Marine.
Period.
End of story.
I might be a little broken right now, but I’d been putting my time in so someday soon I wouldn’t have to be dependent on anyone.
“Can’t I just crash at a hotel until something becomes available?”
“You can’t live by yourself, Sloane. Not yet. And certainly not in a hotel.” Missy’s phone beeped. “Excuse me a moment.”
After she left the room, the grey-haired doctor said quietly, “I’m sorry, Captain.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“It’d be different if you had a wife or roommate who could help you at home and bring you to your appointments,” Dr. Noland said.
“Like I’d want to saddle a wife with this.”
“Have you thought about staying with your parents?”
Well, that might be a problem considering I hadn’t seen my parents since I left their house the day after I graduated high school, joined the Marines, and never returned.
It had been either that or stay and fight back; there was no way I was going to make it all summer before college started without putting my fist through my stepdad’s face. I’d figured joining the Marines was better than going to jail.
“No. They’re not around. So, all I have to do is find someone I can stay with?”
Dr. Noland, with the patience of Job, calmly replied, “We both know it’s not that simple. You’ll need someone who understands the amount of assistance you’re going to need and is willing to provide it.”
I didn’t think I needed that much assistance. I’d been working my ass off for the therapists during my sessions and had begun using a fake leg. Hell, I’d do more if they’d let me.
“My friend, Ryan, is a firefighter, and his girlfriend is a doctor. They’re taking care of my dog, and I’m sure they’d let me stay with them. I’ll talk to him. He already has a visit planned next week; it’d be great if I could just go back with him.”
I left out that Grace was a psychiatrist and not the type of doctor who could treat my physical ailments. Although, she’d probably have a field day with my current mental state.
Not that it mattered, I had no intention of actually staying with them. I was betting on being able to talk Ryan into vouching that I was staying with him while I really got my own place.
“If he agrees, put him in touch with Missy, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
Shit. Missy.
She was going to hammer home how much help I’d need and insist that Ryan take it seriously. And Ryan would, because he was a good dude.
But I’d be damned if I was going to be a burden to my friends.
Maybe Ryan would see how much progress I’d made and agree it wasn’t as necessary as the staff was making it out to be.
~~~~
“Of course you’re welcome to stay with us.”
“Maybe you didn’t understand what I said. I wouldn’t really stay with you; we’d just tell the staff here that I am so they’ll release me.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason they won’t release you unless you have a place lined up with people to help you.”
“I don’t want to be a burden to you and Grace, Ry. You just got her to agree to marry you, you don’t want to rock the boat by adding your crippled friend to the house. It’s bad enough you’re still taking care of my dog.”
“We’ll talk more when I get there.”
Luckily, he couldn’t see my frown over the phone.
“Okay, I look forward to seeing you, buddy.”
~~~~
I hung up the phone and headed to my session in the physical therapy room.
“Captain Davidson, you have a visitor.” Betty, the sweet volunteer who manned the front desk interrupted my attempt to walk using just the two bars in the physical therapy room while my PTA, Judy watched carefully.
“Call me Sloane, Betty.” I’d been telling her that since I arrived six months ago. I lifted my eyebrows. “A visitor?”
She nodded. “He’s waiting in the lobby.”
The man must have some stripes or stars to warrant Betty leaving her post to come find me. Either that, or she was just as surprised as I was that I had a visitor.
“Why don’t you send him to Sloane’s room?” Judy suggested. “We’ll meet him there.”
She pulled a wheelchair from the corner of the room. Normally I hated those fucking things with a passion, but I knew it would take too long for me to use my walker.
I was sitting on my bed, waiting, when Colonel Swartz walked in.
“You’re looking good, Davidson.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I’ve got my cover model shoot scheduled for next week.”
The colonel didn’t share in my amusement. “Well, you look a helluva lot better than the last time I saw you. They’d just wheeled you into the hospital in Germany.”
“Well, that’s not exactly a very high bar to beat, now is it?”
Finally, the man cracked a smile. “No, I suppose not,” he said as he set the banker’s box he’d been carrying down on the desk by the wall. “I hear you’ve been cleared to return to Camp Pendleton. Congratulations, you must be making great progress.”
I looked at the box curiously. “I don’t know if I’d call it great progress, but I’ve been putting my time in.”
“I brought your personal effects from your camp.” The commander hoisted from his shoulder an olive-green canvas duffel bag that looked familiar and set it next to the box. “Captain Sanchez packed them for you.”
My stomach fell to my feet.
My things from camp.
The only thing of value had been stacked in neat, pink piles at the bottom of my footlocker.
What I wouldn’t give to just smell them. But I only had the one she’d sent after I made it to San Antonio; the one I’d not been able to bring myself to open.
It was in a plain white envelope, not her signature pink, so I doubted she’d spritzed it with her perfume. Not that I’d be able to smell it anyway.
I wondered if the picture she’d sent before we’d met was in the box. I knew the ones we’d taken together in November would be on my phone. I’d been glad I hadn’t had it because I knew I’d just sit and stare at all my ruined hopes and plans for the future in her pretty face.
How I’d behaved in Germany was inexcusable. It’d been a chickenshit way to handle things, and I knew it.
My penance had been the regret I felt daily but, still, at the end of the day, I knew it had been the right thing to do.
I hoped she’d found someone worthy of her, and I was nothing but a distant memory.
I made the obligatory small talk with the colonel, all the while trying to avoid looking at the box and bag sitting on my desk.
Yet, after my commander left, they were all I could stare at. I just couldn’t bring myself to open either the box or the bag. Avoidance, at least when it came to her, seemed to be my mantra.
My PTA, Judy walked in and noticed what had my attention. “Do you want help unpacking?”
I shook my head. “No. There’s no sense doing that when I’ll just have to pack it up again in a few days.”
“Don’t you want to make sure everything is there?”
My chuckle held no humor. “I’m actually afraid everything will be there.”
“What do you mean?”
Finally, I looked at her. “Just… ghosts of a life lost”—I gestured to the scars on the left side of my body—“before things changed.”
“It doesn’t have to be lost, you know. Injured service members can and do go on to have healthy relationships.”
I shrugged. “Maybe someday. But not with her.”
That seemed to pique the woman’s interest. “Her? I don’t recall you ever mentioning a her before.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I thought maybe there might be a future with her, and now there’s not.”
“Wow, no offense my friend, but she sounds kind of shallow.”
“She’s not shallow. It was my decision.”
“Well, if she’s not shallow, then you’re dumb.”
“She deserves it all… a white-picket fence, marriage, kids, and a dog. I can only offer a dog and maybe a condo someday. I’m not even going to put her in the position that she has to decide if she wants to be with me like this.”
Judy maneuvered my wheelchair in front of me, obviously lost in thought, otherwise she would have made me situate it myself.
“Don’t you think that’s pretty selfish on your part? Why doesn’t she get a say?”
“It’s just easier this way, Judy. Trust me. She’s young; she should have the fairytale with the prince. Not the frog.”
Judy scowled and watched me sit down and take the brakes off my chair.
“I’ve seen your chart. You can still have kids.”
I shot her a look before wheeling myself out of the room. “Physically, yes. But I’m not going to put some poor kid through having a freak-show dad who shows up and scares everyone at his soccer game.”
The woman tucked some of her silver and brown strands of hair behind her ear. “Did you tell your counselor that?”
“Yep,” I huffed, giving my wheels an extra hard push. “And Ken said my feelings are perfectly normal and reasonable.”
“Are you sure he said reasonable?” she teased, almost jogging to keep up with me.
“Let’s just get to work,” I grumbled.
I tried to be optimistic, but it was hard sometimes. I was alive and determined to recover and live life to the fullest—I owed that to Shawn. But I’d also seen myself in a mirror and knew what the left side of my face and body looked like—not to mention the missing body parts. I couldn’t have a relationship with Ashley—not anymore. She’d be expecting the man she’d spent a weekend with, and this version of myself would show up. How unfair would that be?
I imagined she’d be polite, of course, and try not to flinch at my appearance. But I didn’t even want to put her in that position.
What if she hasn’t moved on? the devil on my shoulder whispered.
I gave myself an internal shake.
It wouldn’t matter.
Why not? Maybe you could start over.
I needed to put those thoughts on lockdown. She probably fucking hated me, and with good reason. I owed her an apology, and then I’d let her go.
But even as soon as I thought it, I knew if I saw her, that would be easier said than done.
Maybe I could send her a letter.