Chapter 7
HARDISON
I jumped up because the therapist team would be here soon, and I didn’t want them waiting for me.
“Rise and shine,” Emberlynn said as I rushed by her.
I got showered, dressed, and was lacing my shoes when there was a knock on the door. Emberlynn must’ve gotten it because I heard voices moments later. I brushed my hair quickly and then exited the room to hear them discussing the exercises I’d been doing.
“Hey, that was quick.” Emberlynn smiled.
“Military mornings. Sometimes you only had a moment or two before you were on to something else. Had to make sure that you were ready for anything.” I moved further into the living room, where I sat down opposite the therapist. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It wasn’t long. I’m Amanda, your new PT. How are you feeling today physically?” She asked.
“Good, now that I’m stretching every day. The aches that have built up seem to disappear by the day as long as I keep working my leg.”
“Want to tell me what happened?” Amanda asked.
I looked at Emberlynn, and she nodded before getting up and going back into the kitchen.
I told the story, and when I was done, Amanda flipped through my chart that she had.
“I have a few exercises I want to try so we can see what your range is. Where do you normally do them?”
I motioned to the space on the floor.
“That’s perfect.”
I grabbed the blanket I used, and she placed her mat on top, giving me more stability.
We stretched and worked out my muscles for almost two hours before I rested.
She pushed me in ways that both aggravated me–because it highlighted my limitations–and challenged me–giving me a sense of something to work toward.
Just as we were finished up, the head doc–Dr. Hertz–knocked on the door.
Emberlynn let her in and showed her where I was.
Then let Amanda out, chit-chatting with her the entire time.
She brought me back a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. Then she handed me a cup of coffee, just the way I preferred.
Grateful, I took everything from her and began eating while the therapist got settled.
She insisted that I finish my food to focus fully on our session.
I quickly got it down and then jumped right into her agenda.
Initially, we discussed my day-to-day life, and then she asked me one question to which I thought I knew the answer.
“Why are you in therapy?”
My answer wasn’t sufficient. “Because I have PTSD.” What other reason would I?
“Try again.”
“Because I want it to go away.” I shrugged.
“No, try again.” She spoke calmly, reminding me of the natural wisdom one develops as one ages.
Her salt and pepper hair didn’t tell me her age, just that she’d probably earned every strand she had. Her eyes twinkled with an all-knowing look that made me wonder why she was asking the question. What intel did she already have?
I sighed, feeling like all my answers were going to be wrong. “So I can stop having these damn nightmares.”
“Sounds like you want to control your episodes. Tell me about the dreams,” she insisted as Emberlynn walked out of her room wearing walking gear. She was moving her head to the sound of something only she could hear with headphones.
“Last night, it was the same one I keep having. Reliving the accident on repeat. It all seems so real, like I’m back there.
The explosive pain in my leg, the burning fire on my face from the gash, and the weakness I felt as it all unleashed.
My brothers tell me I was lucky I fell on my face.
It saved my life. If it had been the back of my head, I would’ve died.
And if I had remained standing, that shot would have hit me in my chest.”
“Did anyone else get injured?”
“Yes. Men died too. I was lucky, I guess—the only one who made it out of that ambush. The rescue team saved me. Without them, I’d be a dead man. Then there was–”
“Yes?”
“Nevermind.” I shuffled, not ready to say that last part out loud.
Amanda nodded, wrote something down in that big-ass red book on her lap, and continued. “How do you feel about that?” She clasped her hands in front of her, patiently waiting like she knew my struggles. I wouldn’t with this question.
“Like I’m supposed to do something more than just limp around here and have bad dreams. There was a reason I made it out, and they didn’t.
But those shots, the damage they created, were bigger than the physical scars.
” I swallowed and took a sip of my coffee while bouncing my knee.
“My wife and I were completing our divorce when it happened. She didn’t even seem to care.
We didn’t have any children or anything, and I know my job was tough on her, but I figured she’d care a little.
It was like a stranger had taken over her. ”
“What about your family?”
“I screwed up the generational legacy. I didn’t retire. An injury pulled me out of the military. It took everything I had in a split second. My career crumbled, leaving me to figure out the pieces. My family disappeared with it. My parents, my brother, my grandfather…”
“Who is Emberlynn again?” Amanda changed the subject, but she wrote more shit. What the fuck was in that big-ass book she was writing in?
“She’s… I don’t know how to describe it for sure. We’re here on a two-week-long date to figure out if we should be together. We were matched by Love Catered. It’s a dating site where they match you to find your happily ever after. I don’t think she still wants that. Plus, she wasn’t honest.”
“How so?”
“I overheard her telling a friend that she wasn’t supposed to be here long. She came to break this thing off before it even got started.”
“Is there a reason you’re eager to find someone after you’ve just gone through a divorce?” More writing.
“My marriage has been over for a while. It doesn’t mean that I’ve changed my mind about settling down and finding my love. After the accident, I’ve only wanted it more. I don’t want to waste time. And now, I feel like I am. It’s only been a few days since I met her, but I was hoping she’d be real.”
“What do you mean, real?”
“When I first saw her picture, I had this insane response to her. Like I could picture the future more closely. Vividly. And when she got here, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. But overhearing that conversation was cold water thrown on the heat simmering between us.”
She was attractive, a pretty light brown woman with too much wisdom shining in her hazel brown eyes.
As fine as she was, she had nothing on Emberlynn.
I could tell that she was very put-together from how her blazer seemed to fit her perfectly.
But she didn’t appear judgmental. Her question-and-answer combination dug in, but didn’t bruise.
She was assertive without being offensive.
The only thing that I didn’t like so far was that Big. Ass. Book.
“Ask her about it.” Amanda arched her perfectly sketched eyebrow.
This was the first time I’d stalled in the question-and-answer game we were playing.
She noticed.
“Hardison?”
“If I do, she’ll be able to deny it or lie. And what if the reason she’s leaving is because of everything happening with me?” I knew if I was struggling with it all, she had to be as well.
“Happening with you?”
“The scars, the trauma, the PTSD, the therapy sessions, my treatment plan. It could all be too much. She’s looking for somebody who has it all together, and I don’t.”
“Did she say that or imply it?” Amanda wrote something else, and I rolled my eyes at how that book was getting more play than I was.
“No, we haven’t talked about any of that. I just…”
“Want to protect yourself from being hurt?” Knowing eyes shone my way. Pen in hand, she’d stopped writing mid-pen stroke to ask that.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Listen, you can’t decide what’s happening on her side of things without discussing it.
Give her a chance to show you who she is.
Maybe there is more to the story. There certainly is when it comes to your personal story.
Not today, but we’re definitely going to jump into more with the accident.
I think you’re experiencing multiple things here.
Survivor’s guilt, PTSD, anxiety, and maybe even some depression.
The first thing we’re going to do is set up another appointment so we can meet again.
I have an opening in four days. Same time.
Are you interested?” She flipped through her pages and waited for me to respond.
She was probably looking at her calendar. So damn organized.
I nodded, not sure how I felt about any of that. The possible diagnosis, discussing things with Emberlynn, and even the continued sessions seemed heavy.
“I can see you’re struggling with something. Want to tell me what it is?”
“Not really,” I admitted. It all felt like hands were wrapping around my throat, ready to strangle me.
“Okay.” She handed me her business card, which she retrieved from the back of her book. Then she closed the entire thing. Okay, maybe it was more like a binder or something. “Call me if you change your mind.”
“Does an hour always go that quickly?” I tapped the card against my hand to distract from my caged feelings. Doubts, dread, and even the truth that I was in over my head.
“Sometimes therapy can be so smooth that you don’t know where the time goes.
But it can also be so difficult that the minutes drag on.
Take each session for what it is. Don’t try so hard to fix everything right away.
It’ll come.” Her head nodding was slow and deliberate.
“You’ll build what your new normal looks like. ”
“New normal? I don’t want a new normal.” I looked up at her, not sure that she understood the goals. “I want my old life back.”