Today We Go Home

by Kelli Estes

  Larkin was happy to have something to do with her time beyond managing her own symptoms. She still felt the need to clear the house at night, and her nightmares still plagued her to the extent that she tried to drown them out with booze, but at least she had a reason to get out of bed every day. That was more than she’d had a month ago.

  A few days later, Kaia cooked the Afghan meal she’d promised Larkin and invited Jenna and Evan over to share it. All afternoon, the scents of cardamom, mint, garlic, fried dough, and roasting lamb filled the house, although Kaia would not allow Larkin near the kitchen. She was so excited about giving Larkin this gift that Larkin didn’t have the heart to tell her the smells were triggering memories that weren’t all welcome.

  Needing a break from the aromas as well as from her reading and blogging, Larkin decided to escape for a few hours and take Bowie for a walk. It was an uncommonly clear day for December, and she knew another might be months away.

  Letting Bowie lead the way, she set off down the deck steps and across the grass to the trail that wound through the woods, past their old fort, to join with the neighborhood path that eventually merged onto the Tolt Pipeline Trail. The trail was a swath of open land about eighty feet wide with a dirt-and-gravel section in the middle that cut straight across King County and was popular with runners, mountain bikers, walkers, and even horseback riders. Larkin and her cousins had spent hours on the trail when they were kids, and coming here felt like stepping back in time.

  Larkin heard the sounds of children calling to one another and the loud whine of a leaf blower starting up, evidence that she wasn’t the only one feeling the need to take advantage of the break in the weather. Around her, though, the forest was hushed, which soothed her.

  Although quite nippy, the air felt good on her skin, all full of moisture and oxygen so clean she almost wished she could strip off all her clothes and run naked through the woods, soaking it up.

  She decided to turn west on the trail, toward the winery district in Woodinville. Larkin felt like a puzzle piece slipping into place as her feet followed the paths she’d walked for years.

  Because it was a Saturday, the trail was busy with a wide range of people: a mom group with babies strapped to their chests or riding in backpacks, joggers with earbuds stuffed in their ears, middle-aged couples giving their dogs a long leash to explore, a couple of guys who raced by on mountain bikes. Three teenage girls on horses leisurely made their way out of a forested trail to the main trail and turned east. Larkin thought about going home to avoid the crowd, but knowing she would be on edge there, she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Bowie trotted happily beside her.

  She spent the time looking at the houses, yards, and pastures she passed, and enjoying the rare sunshine that kept the chill of the wind from biting too deeply. As long as she kept studying the landscape, she found she could keep thoughts of Afghanistan at bay. Although there were mountains and forests in that country, Larkin had only served in the desert, where everything was a chalky-tan color. The green here, even at this time of the year, soothed her eyes and her soul.

  Before she realized how far she’d gone, she found herself standing at the top of the hill that locals referred to as Heart Attack Hill, so named for its steep incline. When they were kids, she and her cousins raced each other up the hill. When that got easy, they’d raced up, down, and back up again. Usually Larkin or Kaia’s older brother, Tanner, won, but occasionally Jenna had surprised them with a last-minute burst of energy.

  From the top, Larkin could see down to the bottom where the city had newly installed a crosswalk stoplight on the busy Woodinville-Redmond Road. Although her view was blocked by trees, she knew the wine-tasting rooms, including her uncle’s, were to the left. The district had grown from the first and only winery in the 1970s, Chateau Ste. Michelle, to now over a hundred wineries and tasting rooms, all of whom sourced the majority of their grapes from eastern Washington vineyards.

  A glass of wine sounded like the exact thing she needed.

  She started down the hill, stepping carefully so she didn’t jar or further injure her bad knee. Bowie looked longingly down the hill as though she wanted to race ahead, but she must have sensed Larkin’s pain because she didn’t pull on the leash and sat patiently every time Larkin paused to rest.

  Once Larkin reached the road, she realized her plan wasn’t perfect. There were no sidewalks leading to the wineries from here. Cars zipped by nearly constantly, so walking on the road wasn’t an option.

  She peered across the road and saw that the trail continued past farmland to the Sammamish River and the paved biking and walking path running alongside it. If she took that route, she could make a loop back to the winery on the path and the sidewalk along the road that ran east-west back to the winery district.

  But that would add almost another mile, and her knee was already aching. She needed a break, and a glass of wine, before heading home up Heart Attack Hill. She could not manage another mile.

  Larkin looked again at the road and the tasting rooms she could now see not even a quarter mile away. A narrow, dirt shoulder ran along the side of the road. It wouldn’t be safe and one tipsy driver would be all it would take to end her, but she was willing to risk it.

  Determined, she started walking, ignoring the cars whizzing past and keeping her own body between the road and Bowie.

  When she arrived safely at the roundabout, she paused, searching the buildings on every corner for the sign announcing Uncle Matt’s winery. There it was. Opposite corner.

  She started across the crosswalk but had to stop in the middle as a car whose driver didn’t see her nearly ran her over. “Watch it!” she yelled angrily, but loving the spurt of adrenaline that shot through her. She lived for that feeling. It’s what had kept her alive in Afghanistan.

  Outside the tasting room, she found a dog dish of water near the doors and a railing close by that she could tie Bowie’s leash to. “Wait here, girl. I won’t be long.” She gave Bowie’s neck a two-handed rub, then patted her on the head. “Be good while I’m gone.”

  The tasting room looked like a Pacific Northwest lodge, with natural wood and stone everywhere. Inside, she found a huge fireplace with a decorative metal screen in front of the crackling fire. Even though she hadn’t felt cold during her walk, the warmth of the room wrapped around her, and she thought she might never want to leave.

  She walked toward the counter looking for a familiar face. The only employee behind the counter was a woman she didn’t recognize.

  “What can I get you?” the woman asked, her long, curly black hair framing perfect skin and a warm smile. Her hair reminded Larkin of Sarah’s, but she refused to linger on that thought.

  “Whatever is your most popular white, please.” As she waited, she thought about asking if her cousin or uncle was in, but then she changed her mind. If she saw them, fine. But really, she didn’t feel like making small talk. The woman pulled the cork from a bottle and poured Larkin a glass, describing the wine as she did so. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

  Leaving some bills on the counter, Larkin carried her wine to the deep armchairs by the fireplace and dropped into one, stretching her aching leg out toward the warmth and sighing with pleasure. Taking a long sip of the wine—excellent, of course—she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to stay long, or she’d be late for Kaia’s dinner.

  After a few minutes, the wine and the warmth got the better of her, and she felt herself sliding into sleep, unable to stop the descent.

  Nahid’s face swam before her, smiling in the cocky way he had that made him seem older than his twelve years. He laughed, said something in his native Pashto, then chased after his friends who were kicking a soccer ball in the street. “Bring me candy tomorrow, Captain Bennett,” he shouted back to Larkin. “I will show you again my good English.”

  Larkin laughed and promised him ca
ndy tomorrow if he impressed her with the words he’d learned. She knew she’d give him the candy anyway, even if his new English words were vulgar swears he’d learned from the men in her squad. Heck, she’d give him candy for nothing. Nahid had become her friend over the four months that she’d been visiting the police station in his neighborhood. He was there every time, and he always greeted her with a mischievous grin.

  She stood at the police station gates with two Afghan police officers on guard, watching the kids play. Suddenly, everyone except for her and Nahid disappeared. She called to him, but he didn’t turn her way. She called out again, terrified that something was very wrong.

  He turned toward her and started running straight for the gates, only he was no longer Nahid. He was a grown man wearing a white shalwar kameez with a brown vest and an unfastened green winter coat over it. On his head he wore a brown pakol hat. He looked at her as he neared, and his bearded face filled with hatred.

  She lifted her weapon and yelled in Pashto, “Stop!”

  He kept running, and now she saw that he held a SAW—an M249 squad automatic weapon—and it was pointed straight at her.

  She yelled again for him to stop, but he ignored her. If anything, he ran faster. She pulled the trigger.

  With a violent jerk, Larkin woke, spilling the wine still in her hand all over her pants. “Damn it!”

  Realizing where she was, she looked around sheepishly. An older couple was cozied over a small table a short distance away, but they weren’t paying her any attention. A group of women who must have come in while she slept were gathered around the counter, peppering the poor woman working there with dozens of questions and requests.

  No one seemed to notice her. Larkin slowly released a pent-up breath.

  The front door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and the words, “Aren’t you a good dog! Where’s your owner?”

  Larkin realized the person must be talking to Bowie, which made her feel guilty for leaving her out in the cold. With a glance at the clock on her cell phone, she realized she needed to head home anyway.

  She left her empty wineglass on the counter and turned to head out when one of the women called to her friend, “Anna, you’ve got to try this one!”

  Larkin felt the ground drop away from her when she heard the name “Anna.” Maybe it was the dream she’d just had still weighing heavily on her mind, but she could have sworn the woman had said Anahita. Not Anna.

  Anahita. The one name—the one person whom Larkin refused to think about or talk about. To hear it here, in the last place she would have expected, hit her in the gut like a cannonball to the stomach.

  Even as she fought to regain her breath, the vision hit her.

  She was no longer standing in her uncle’s tasting room, but on a dusty road lined on both sides with stalls and carts and tables loaded with goods for sale. Everything was covered in dust, but the shopkeepers did their best to beat the fabrics clean and wipe the grime from vegetables, fruits, jewelry, pots, and trinkets.

  She kept one hand on her M4 as she and her team patrolled the street, letting the Afghan National Police officers lead the mission. Larkin walked ten meters behind Sarah and knew an ANP was five to ten meters behind her. The distance between them was intentional to reduce loss in case of an IED or suicide bomber.

  Before Larkin even realized there was a threat, the ping of a bullet hitting the parked car beside her made her hit the deck. Crouched low, she shuffled around the car so that it was between her and where the shot had come from, and as she did so, she yelled, “Take cover!”

  “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  “Stay down!” she yelled back. Wait. She didn’t know that voice. It didn’t belong.

  “Ma’am, can I call someone for you? An ambulance?”

  The vision faded, and Larkin found herself crouched behind the armchair in the tasting room. Every single person in the room stared at her with a mixture of horror and pity on their faces.

  The woman who worked there was leaning over her. Worry, and more than a little fear, stretched her features taut. “What can I do to help you?” she asked softly.

  To her horror, Larkin’s eyes welled with tears. She squeezed them tightly shut and managed, “Nothing. I’m okay.”

  When she thought she could stand, she got achingly to her feet and lifted her chin. With her gaze fastened on the front door to avoid eye contact with anyone else, she started in that direction. “Please excuse me.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, nor did she say anything else as she pushed into the cold air and found Bowie waiting for her. Her tail wagged in delight upon seeing Larkin, and the trust and love in her big brown eyes was nearly Larkin’s undoing. She had to swallow twice before she could squeak out, “Come on. Time to go.” She tugged Bowie’s leash free and headed toward the trail.

  Except, she didn’t make it across the parking lot before she thought she heard a weapon fire, and she flinched. When she looked around, though, no one else had heard a thing. It was in her imagination.

  One thing, she realized. One more thing and she would snap. She was strung so tightly that Bowie felt it. She was looking up at her and whining.

  Defeated, Larkin sat on a curb in the crowded parking lot and pulled out her cell phone. “Jenna?” she said as soon as her cousin answered. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at your dad’s winery.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jenna sounded alarmed.

  “I’ll tell you when you get here. Hurry.” She ended the call before Jenna could ask any more questions. As she waited, Larkin petted Bowie’s soft fur, feeling as if the dog’s steady presence was the only thing keeping her from a complete breakdown.

  Time lost all meaning, but eventually Jenna pulled up in her black SUV and opened the back door for Bowie. Larkin wordlessly slid into the passenger seat.

  On the drive to Grams’s house, Jenna asked several questions, but all Larkin could manage was the single word “Flashback.” She looked out the window and didn’t say anything else. She was too busy coaching herself to hold it together.

  “You can talk to me, you know.” Jenna’s voice was soft and understanding. “You don’t have to bear it all by yourself.”

  Tears filled Larkin’s eyes, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She knew Jenna meant well, but she had no idea what Larkin was going through. She couldn’t possibly know. No one could. No one had seen the things she’d seen or done the things she’d done. Jenna said she could bear it with her, but she couldn’t. The burden Larkin carried was unbearable for anyone. She wouldn’t put that on the people she loved.

  “Thanks for coming for me,” she muttered as they pulled into Grams’s driveway and parked behind Kaia’s car. “I should have known better than to go to public places.” She got out and slammed the door to show she didn’t need a reply. Opening the back door, she gathered Bowie’s leash and led her into the house as Jenna followed behind.

  “I’m back!” she called out as she slipped out of her tennis shoes and unhooked Bowie’s leash. When she saw Grams, Kaia, and Evan in the kitchen with concerned looks on their faces, all Larkin could think about was to escape. “I, uh…I need a shower, but I’ll be quick. I promise.”

  The warm spray of the shower helped wash away her anxiety. Her fear. Her shame. She stayed there for a good ten minutes, a record considering her Army training had instilled the habit of no more than three-minute showers. As she stepped out and dried off, she felt a little more like herself again. She slicked her hair back into the bun she’d mastered in the service and swiped lip balm on her lips. With a fresh pair of jeans and a warm sweater on, she didn’t quite feel ready to face her family, but she knew she couldn’t put them off any longer.

  But as she came down the stairs, she heard them talking and she paused to listen. They were gathered around the kitchen island and talking in hushed tones. They hadn’t seen her yet.


  “Tiffany said she really freaked people out, yelling for them to ‘get down’ and hiding behind the chair herself.” Grams must have called the winery. Larkin burned with embarrassment.

  “I read those articles you sent all of us, Grams,” Jenna said in response. “But I guess I didn’t believe that’s what Larkin’s going through. You should have seen the terror on her face when I picked her up. It was like she’d witnessed something horrific. It scared me, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

  “I’m thankful she called you.” Grams patted Jenna’s arm reassuringly. “She has good days and bad days. All we can do is be here for her and hope the good days start outweighing the bad pretty soon.”

  Larkin sank onto the stairs and dropped her head into her hands. She’d had no idea her family was that worried about her, nor that they’d been noticing the extent of what she was going through. She’d believed she was hiding the worst of it.

  She hadn’t come home to drop all of her shit in Grams’s lap, that was for certain.

  Maybe she should leave. The inpatient PTSD program had helped. But maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe she should go back.

  “Oh, Larkin, there you are.” Grams shuffled to the kitchen table, carrying a stack of plates and smiling as though everything were normal. “We’re about to sit down for dinner. I hope you’re hungry, because Kaia has truly outdone herself.”

  Larkin decided to play along. She’d had enough of being the center of drama for the day. Plastering on a smile, she went the rest of the way down the stairs and reached the kitchen island at the same time the others broke into motion. Jenna and Kaia each reached for a dish of food as Larkin stuck her hand out toward Jenna’s husband. “Evan,” she greeted him. “Good to see you.”

  He smiled back as he shook her hand, and Larkin saw what had attracted Jenna to him. With chiseled cheekbones, a strong jaw, and an athlete’s body, he was a good-looking guy who obviously took care of himself.