Chapter 8 #2
“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to bottle all of this up,” Gianna says quietly.
I hear her boots smush through the snow as she approaches, and I feel her hand slip into mine.
“I hate that I’m the only one who knows what you went through.
You don’t even keep in touch with any of the guys from your squad, even the ones who were allowed to stay on active duty. ”
“It was too painful,” I confess, my voice harsh with emotion. “I didn’t want to be discharged. I was forced out. I got the short end of the stick, and they were able to continue in active duty? It’s bullshit.”
“Leo,” Gianna whispers. “It’s not their fault that they weren’t injured. Just like it’s not your fault that you were. What about the guys who didn’t make it? Was it their fault?”
“Obviously not,” I retort, but my mind whirls with her first statement. It’s not their fault that they weren’t injured. I’ve honestly never thought of it that way. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in what was taken from me, that I wasn’t able to look at it from any other perspective.
“Belle said you had some kind of breakthrough at the RMRRMC meeting.” The quick change of direction in Gianna’s questioning has me chuckling.
“Definitely not a breakthrough. A mortifying moment that bordered on a panic attack? Yeah. Absolutely had that.”
“Seb thought you vibed with the speaker.”
I shrug. “Seb thinks everyone vibes. He’s all hyped up on marital sex, and can’t see anything beyond rainbows and orgasms.”
Gianna smiles. “That’s probably true. But Travis thought so as well. He told me he was proud of you for showing up, but that he really hoped you’d call the guy. He’s worried about you.”
Might as well kick me when I’m down, sis. “He has no reason to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You aren’t, Leo. You haven’t been since you were discharged. Every now and again, I see a little spark of the old Leo, and I wonder if you’re coming back.” She smiles wistfully. “But then I watch as you seem to collapse into yourself again. I’m worried, too.”
I think for a minute. I don’t want to go to a therapist. I don’t see the point in talking about feelings and trauma. I can’t change the past. Why dwell on it? I get by each day. That’s really all that matters, right?
“I think you have survivor’s guilt,” Gianna blurts out.
When my eyes meet hers, I see the sheen of tears.
She sniffs hard, and I know she’s trying to avoid crying.
Gia is one of the strongest people I know, and she hates crying.
“You’re my best friend, Leo. You’ve been with me through everything.
And I can tell you’re struggling. I want you to get closure.
I know you’ll tell me it’s in the past, and there’s no sense in harping on it, but what happened in Afghanistan has dulled you.
Out of the two of us, you were always the quieter one.
But there was a palpable energy that rippled from you.
That feeling is no longer there. It’s like you’re coasting along, just waiting for each day to pass. Not living, not dying. Just here.”
“Wow. That’s — uh, just wow,” I breathe.
She basically described me exactly as I feel.
Just here. I know I’m different today than I was years ago.
Experiencing half of my squad dying impacted me more than I could have ever thought possible.
I knew their names. Their wives and kids names.
I knew what dreams each guy had for their future.
Danielson wanted to open up a food truck with his dad.
Brown intended to get a degree in education.
Hepp was so excited about the birth of his first child, a daughter, and showed me ultrasound pictures almost every day.
Even if I’d been completely unharmed that day, I would have still come home a shell of my former self.
In some ways, I was pissed that the Army dropped me as soon as it was clear I wouldn’t have full use of my leg.
But in others, I was relieved. I’m not sure I could have emotionally survived another deployment where we lost soldiers.
But, God, I’m angry. So fucking angry. Furious that my leg aches all the time, and sometimes my brain doesn’t work like it should.
Devastated that Hepp never met his daughter, and that she’ll grow up never truly knowing what an amazing man he was.
I’m pissed as hell that we got blown up for nothing to even happen over there.
So many lives lost for no true reason, because Afghanistan remains the same today as it was when this war started over two decades ago.
“Maybe you’re right,” I finally rasp, my voice cracking as I clear my throat. I rub my forehead, aware of a general ache beginning, and know I’ll have a full-blown migraine before long. “I’ll call the guy.”
“Do it right now,” she commands. When I raise an eyebrow at her, she gives me a half smile. “I know you, Leo. You’ll push it off until I bother you again about it. So do it now.”
I sigh, pulling my wallet out of my pocket to retrieve the business card I’d stuffed in there when I left the RMRRMC meeting at Sebastian’s.
I’d thought about throwing it away, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Maybe I subconsciously recognized that I’d be calling the guy sooner rather than later.
Dialing the number, I practice what I’ll say when his voicemail picks up. Hi, this is Leo Santo, I’m the weirdo you met at Sebastian Garcia’s house the other day. The one you pegged as being full of trauma? Yeah, now my sister tells me I need therapy. So I guess we should meet.
Or maybe I’ll say something even odder. Hi, I’m the dude that got triggered over nothing at RMRRMC. You think you can fix my broken noggin?
So when the guy answers the phone, saying, “This is Josh McKinnon,” I overreact and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I need help with my brain.”
Thankfully, Josh doesn’t even make the slightest chuckle sound. “Alright. And who am I speaking with?”
“Leo Santo.”
“Leo. From Sebastian’s. I’m glad you called. I’ve actually been thinking about you.”
“I bet you say that to all the broken veterans who call you.”
“No one is broken, Leo. A little banged up, yes. But nothing that we can’t work through. Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”
“Sounds vaguely familiar,” I answer.
“It’s the Japanese art of taking something broken, and filling it with gold. It’s used mostly on pottery. You can’t bring the pottery back exactly as it was; instead, it’s changed for the better. It’s all about finding beauty in the flaws.”
“I don’t think any of my flaws are beautiful,” I confess quietly. I feel Gianna’s hand slide into mine, squeezing it gently. She lays her head on my arm, giving me her quiet strength, and I feel a wave of peace come over me.
“I think you’re more resilient than you believe, Leo. Your story doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you have an opportunity for renewal.”
“How can you sound so sure?” I ask. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” Josh says easily. “I know what deployments are like, and I know the kind of man you are based on what Sebastian and Travis told me. And, to be honest, I researched the event that took out half your team. I know that had to be incredibly traumatizing. I saw that you lost five soldiers.”
“Six,” I whisper. “One died a few months afterward, due to injuries sustained from the IED.” Six out of eleven on our squad. Half gone in a blink of an eye.
“I’d like to meet with you in person as we develop a rapport. Once we’re more established in our therapist and patient relationship, we can move to telehealth appointments if you’d prefer that way.”
“I’m fine with either way, as long as it isn’t a group session.” The thought of being forced to explain my feelings in front of a bunch of people I don’t know makes my skin crawl.
“I don’t do any group sessions, because I don’t like them that much either,” Josh says with a chuckle. “I prefer to have one-on-one appointments. I want to know the real you, not a mask you wear around others. And I know it’s more comfortable to speak freely when no one else is around.”
“Alright. So, when can we meet?” I ask.
“Let’s talk availability.”
Gia squeezes my hand, and I look down to find her beaming at me. She mouths, “I’m proud of you.”
I’m kinda proud of myself too.