Chapter 12
Twelve
JOE
I ’m still trying to figure out how to make things right with Jackie and the rest of the Moretti family. I apologized to Julius at the station the other day. We told the guys what happened, and they thought my behavior was hilarious. That helped ease the tension between us enough that it seemingly disappeared. I still don’t like the guy, but outwardly I can be civil.
The hospital looms over me. My volunteer shift starts in half an hour, and I have to admit that I’m pretty nervous about it. Giving back to other veterans is something that has been on my heart for a long time. I know that I’ve been lucky to have gotten to where I am without too much trauma. I have had therapy, but it was my mentors that really got me through the toughest times.
Taking the elevator up to the floor housing the Wounded Veteran program, I try to keep my thoughts away from being nervous, and instead I focus on the help that I can give to people. I’m still preoccupied with my thoughts when the elevator doors open. I step off and nearly run right into Jackie. I’m thrilled to see her, because now I can apologize in person. I’m about to open my mouth, when I realize that she’s crying.
“Jackie, what’s wrong?” I ask, alarmed and concerned.
“Joe?” she says, looking up at me and blinking through her tears. “What are you doing here?”
She sounds angry, and I don’t blame her after my performance at her house last weekend. But she doesn’t seem to stay angry. Instead she wraps her arms around herself, and sags back against the wall.
I lean against the wall beside her. “I’m here for my volunteer session. Are you okay?”
Jackie shakes her head. “I just dropped Sabina off for some of her appointments today, and we found out that one of her friends took her own life. I’m just so scared about what this will do to Sabina’s mental health.”
Her tears start to flow again, as I process the information. I swear softly. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “At least Sabina found out here, where she can get help and support.”
Jackie nods and swipes at her cheeks. “I know, but she’s struggling so much more than I realized she was. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t want to lose her more than we already have.”
She sounds so broken, that I want to fix it somehow. There isn’t much that I can say. I know personally that there are things that Sabina experienced that civilians won’t ever be able to understand.
“Sabina says that they are helping her here,” Jackie says. “But I can tell that it isn’t enough. Talking to her at home, I can tell.”
I can feel the heaviness of her emotions. I know them well. And I have experienced them on both sides. I know what Sabina is feeling, to some extent. Sometimes when you come home from combat, there are just some things that you can’t explain to civilians. Tack on a POW experience and whew… even other vets might not know what you’ve experienced. That’s why one of the first things I did when I got home was find a good therapist that specialized in helping vets with trauma.
On the other side of that is all the friends I’ve listened to, supported, and walked with through their own trauma. It’s awful knowing that there’s nothing I can do to ‘fix it’; but I’ve learned that often, just being present and willing to listen can be a big part of the healing process. That brings me some comfort and relief.
Now I say, “You are there for her, Jack, and that’s a lot.”
Jackie looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. My heart clenches in my chest, and without thinking I reach out and pull her into a hug. She tenses up for a moment, but then melts into my body. We stand there for a moment, before she steps back. She takes a deep breath, and swipes at her damp cheeks.
“Thanks, Joe,” she says. “And sorry about… this. I can’t handle the thought of Sabina not being here, you know?”
The thought is sobering, and I don’t know how to respond. But I nod in understanding, knowing that feeling all too well. I have lost enough friends to know the fear she is feeling all too well. It starts as a tightness in your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body, paralyzing you with fear. There isn’t anything that can remedy the feeling once it begins.
“Jackie, you have nothing to apologize for. What did the people at the program tell you?” I ask.
Jackie wipes her eyes again, and shrugs. “Not much. Due to confidentiality reasons. I get it. I really do. I work here,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t frustrate me. They are the only people who are talking to her, who have a handle on her mental health. She doesn’t share anything with us at home, but when she does, I feel like we don’t know what to do with the information. We are failing her.”
“You aren’t failing her,” I say quickly. “You aren’t. I know it feels that way, but you are showing up for her, just by being there. That’s important.”
Fresh tears start to snake down Jackie’s cheeks. She doesn’t brush them away. In fact, I’m not sure she even knows that she’s crying again. I’m not sure what to do. Should I hug her again? She has her arms wrapped around herself like she’s hugging herself. She looks small and sad, and it’s breaking my heart. It feels wrong that I’m just standing here, while she looks so miserable.
“Maybe there is something we could do to help her,” I say, grasping to fix things for her, even if just for a moment.
“Like what?” Jackie asks, her voice breaking as she asks her question.
“I don’t know,” I say. The suggestion just came out of my mouth without going through my brain as a filter. But now that I’ve said it, I don’t want to take my words back. I want to make this happen. Not just to make Jackie feel better, but also for Sabina. And all the other vets who are out there struggling. And all the people who have lost their lives as a result of war and conflict.
“Maybe there’s something that we could come up with to get Sabina involved in,” I say, speaking slowly as the thoughts come into my head.
“That’s a good idea,” Jackie says. “If she had something to focus on, maybe that would give her a sense of purpose.”
“A sense of purpose could help her mental health,” I agree. “I know that helped me when I was really struggling.”
Jackie’s eyes flick up to meet mine. I haven’t shared with her what I went through, but I find myself considering telling her about some of it. I know that she’ll listen. Out of all of the Moretti girls, I know that Jackie will listen to me well. She wasn’t always a good listener, but that was when she was younger. Now, though, she’s changed. Every time we have argued since I’ve been back, I know that she has listened closely to what I’ve said, even if she hasn’t agreed with me.
“What do you think it could be?” Jackie asks.
I move to lean against the wall beside her. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I feel like it needs to be something that would give Sabina an outlet for her grief.”
“I agree with that,” Jackie says, “but I think it also needs to be something she can work on actively. Something that can help her take her mind off all the bad stuff.”
We lapse into silence, both mulling things over. I realize, with a start, that this is one of the first times since I’ve been back that Jackie and I aren’t fighting. It almost feels like old times, but with higher stakes. I glance over at her, and notice how pretty she is. Her brown hair is cut into a bob, and still has that old nervous habit of tucking her hair behind her ears every now and then. Quite honestly, it’s adorable. Her eyes are big and wide, as she tries to keep a fresh batch of tears from falling.
Have I ever looked at Jackie this way before? I don’t think so. It must be because she looks so much like Maia now. My dumb brain is just conflating the two, and since Jackie is here with me now, it just feels like the easier option. I think. That sounds cold and heartless, and as soon as the thought enters my head, I feel guilty. Jackie is her own person. She doesn’t need me comparing her to her sister. No matter how similar they look. I think that Jackie is beautiful all on her own.
I’ve been so busy struggling with my thoughts about Jackie and comparing her to Maia, that I realize I haven’t been actively thinking about the problem at hand. But it turns out that I don’t need to worry about this, because as soon as I bring my thoughts back around to some project that would help Sabina and other vets, an idea swoops into my head.
“What if we organize a tribute to fallen soldiers? Both fallen in battle and life?” I say.
Jackie lights up for the first time since I saw her this morning. “Yes, Joe! Yes! That’s brilliant!” she declares with the utmost excitement. “I don’t know how we’ll make it happen, but Joe, it's perfect! I could kiss you right now!”
She throws her arms around me in a hug, and I find myself wishing that she actually would kiss me instead.