It’s a gift that should be shared.
For once, Tara listened to her subconscious. It was true. Michael should be part of Maddie’s life. He should get to share in the laughter and tears. He’d already missed the first five years. He shouldn’t have to miss any more. If he wanted to be part of his daughter’s life, Tara wouldn’t hold him back or begrudge him a single second. She would help him in whatever way he needed. Resolving to put aside the past, she took Madelynn through their evening rituals. First was a bath. Madelynn played with her mermaid dolls and splashed water all over the bathroom. Once she was dried off and in her pajamas, Tara set up Candyland, and they played two games before it was Madelynn’s bedtime. Snuggling down under her covers, Madelynn looked very seriously at her mother.
“Mommy, I hope you feel better.” She yawned and wrapped her arms around Tara’s neck and kissed her cheek. “Night Mommy. I love you.”
“Good night, Maddie. I love you too.” Tara turned off the light and closed the door. She walked into the living room and turned on the computer. Logging on, she saw that Michael was not online tonight. Tara frowned and turned the computer off. Where was he? Shrugging, she went to take a shower and go to bed. She would talk to him tomorrow.
Chapter 7
It was Wednesday before Tara talked to Michael again. Her week went on as usual. She tried to video chat with him every night, but he wasn’t online. Surprisingly, she was beginning to worry about him. But after Madelynn was bathed and in bed and she’d taken her own shower, she logged on and was surprised to find him waiting.
“Hi. I was getting a little concerned.” She smiled into the camera.
He looked miserable. Black circles darkened his eyes, and he looked thinner than he had just a few days ago. “It’s going to be a while before I can talk again,” he said softly. “I’ve got some things to work through. The psychiatrist won’t discharge me yet, and she’s right.” He scoffed. “I’m not fit to be around anyone right now, especially a five-year-old.”
Tara stared disbelievingly at the monitor. Now he wasn’t coming? “What do you mean? You seemed fine a few days ago!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I couldn’t remember everything that happened, and now it’s…” His shoulders hunched and his voice broke. “It’s coming back now.” He scrubbed his hands roughly down his face, and even on a screen, she could see his eyes were bright with tears. “It’s all coming back and I…I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t think because all I see are flashes. I’ve got to work through this before I can come back. They won’t let me leave until they’re sure I won’t hurt myself or anyone else.”
“Michael…” she began.
He held his hand up. “Don’t. Just…” He took a shaky breath. “Just let me work this out. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but Tara…wait. Will you wait?”
“Wait for what, Michael?”
He clenched his jaw as a tear leaked from the corner of his eye. His voice trembled as he said, “Wait for me. Don’t get into anything serious. Wait, and give me a chance. I think…” He broke off again. “I think I need you.”
Tara’s heart broke. She opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t been serious about anyone in five years and that wasn’t likely to change, but he’d already ended the session, and she didn’t have a chance.
He’d asked her to wait, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to try a relationship again with him. How long did he want her to wait? A week? A month? A year? Did he have any right to ask that of her? Absolutely not, but he’d asked anyway. Troubled, Tara shut down her computer and went to bed. She was going to take a page from Scarlet O’Hara’s book and think about that tomorrow. Right then she wanted to focus on the fact that he’d said it was coming back.
She’d been very young when her father got back from Saudi Arabia, so she didn’t remember what he went through then. But she did remember his last deployment. He only did one tour in Iraq before he retired, and when he got home, he was a different person. He was quick to anger and wouldn’t speak to her or her mother for days at a time. She’d been enrolled in college and spent most of her weekends at home. One weekend in particular stuck in her mind. Just before he started to get a little better, he’d had a massive breakdown and punched a hole in the wall because her mother had forgotten to turn the light off when she left the living room. Immediately after, he’d crumpled. He’d gone into their bedroom and sobbed for the entire day before coming out that night and looking like a different man. What made it so unbelievable was that her father had never been a violent man. He’d gone to the VA hospital after that and was treated for PTSD. The doctors had told her mother that the road was a long one, and no one would be able to predict his mood swings. Now, eight years later, her father still couldn’t stand a lot of noise without his nerves getting the best of him. Would Michael go through something similar? Would he rage against the hand fate had dealt him? Would he have moments of complete panic for no reason at all? She was fairly certain he was being treated for PTSD because he’d mentioned flashbacks. She knew those had to be brutal. Her father hadn’t had hallucinations, but her mother had been warned to expect it. They’d told her that during the flashbacks, sufferers often weren’t able to distinguish past from present. Was it that severe for Michael? Tara’s heart broke for him. He’d already endured it once; it hardly seemed fair that he should have to go through it again and again. She turned off her bedside lamp and closed her eyes.
Michael was a different person now, harder and more seasoned than he’d been when they first met. He was changed by the last few years. The question, then, was whether or not he was capable of being what Tara needed him to be.
* * * *
Michael didn’t call again until Thanksgiving, and Tara didn’t get to talk to him. He called while she was at her parents’ house having Thanksgiving dinner and left a message on her machine. She stood listening, thinking she was going to have to give him her cell phone number.
“I just wanted to tell you happy Thanksgiving.” A pause. “And tell you that I’m thankful you’re in my life, in whatever way you want to be.” Audible sigh. “This is part of my therapy, getting my feelings out. So, thanks.” There was a click as he disconnected and the message was over. When had he called? She replayed the message and listened to the introduction that gave the date and time of the call. Five-forty-seven p.m. She checked her watch. He’d called less than an hour ago. She felt a twinge of disappointment that she’d missed his call.
“Mommy, who was that?” Madelynn skipped up to her side.
“It was my friend Michael.” Tara ran her fingers through Madelynn’s hair. How should she handle this? Should she tell Madelynn about her daddy and let her figure her feelings out or let her become friends with Michael first?
“Why did he say thanks?” Madelynn, ever curious, asked.
Tara knelt down in front of her daughter. “Michael is very lonely and very sick. He said thanks because he’s very glad to have friends. When he gets better, he’s going to come see us. He wants to be your friend too.”
Madelynn chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Why is he sick? Does he have a temperature? Or strep throat?” Madelynn had been plagued with strep throat the year before and had finally ended up getting her tonsils out.
“No honey, he’s a different kind of sick. But he’ll get better soon and come see us.” Tara stroked Madelynn’s hair gently. “Would you like that?”
“Can he play Candyland?” Madelynn knew exactly what her five-year-old priorities were. Tara laughed and thought that it must be nice to have everything so well-defined.
“If he can’t, then you can teach him.” Tara grinned at Madelynn and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead.
Madelynn grinned back. “Okay, Mommy, I’ll teach him.” She hesitated and then asked, “Can we play Candyland now? Just so I don’t forget how.”
Tara smiled down at Maddie, sure her daughter probably had a successful career as an attorney ahead o
f her. “Sure honey, we can play now.”
* * * *
Someone was screaming again. Mike woke up from the nightmare, his throat aching and his leg throbbing. Another flashback.
Two nurses ran into his room as if they were on fire. Were they running from whoever was screaming?
The explosion rocked his Humvee. He felt himself fly upward, and his head hit the roof of the vehicle. Blackness.
“Chief Davis!” One of the nurses yelled. “Chief Davis, you have to calm down!”
A mortar went off somewhere close-by. Sand, rocks, and shrapnel sprayed his body as he gained consciousness again. Turning over, he looked around for his soldiers.
“Chief Davis, we’re going to have to sedate you!” A voice yelled from just inside the doorway. Two male nurses held each of his arms. Why were they holding him down and yelling? Sedate him? Why?
“Your soldiers are gone, Chief!”
Gone. His leg was gone. Where was it? Dazed, he looked around, expecting to see a whole leg that could be reattached like a Lego block.
“Go ahead and sedate him,” he heard a voice that sounded like Dr. Walters say as if from a distance. Someone was still screaming, but hoarse, sporadic cries now that sounded panicked and terrified. Poor bastard. He felt a pin prick in his left arm. Why were they sedating him? The screams died down to whimpers and gradually faded.
“Tourniquet applied approximately seventeen hundred thirty two hours. Limb was missing upon arrival.” He was hefted into a Blackhawk with the medic symbol on the side.
Blackness again, deep, endless blackness and the bliss of dreamless sleep.
* * * *
“Why do you think the memories come back in dreams, and you have flashbacks of those while you’re conscious?” Dr. Andrea Walters asked, blinking behind her glasses.
Mike squirmed uncomfortably. “Aren’t you the shrink? Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?”
“Perhaps. But I’m interested to know what you think.” She wrote something down on her yellow pad.
Mike sighed. “Same old, same old. Because it was a traumatic event, and my subconscious has repressed the memories, so they come in flashes, and while I’m asleep, and blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.”
Dr. Walters put her pencil down. “That’s a very good recital of a typical diagnoses. Now tell me what you think. Why can’t you recall these things while you’re awake without believing you’re there?”
Mike shifted on the couch. It was hard to sit down, and it was even harder to get up. It was good practice for using his prosthetic, but he was damned tired of being in pain. He was tired of this woman picking his brain and making him talk about how he felt. Mike was angry, and even though he wasn’t going to admit it aloud, he was scared. What if Madelynn rejected him? What if Tara rejected him? What was he going to do with a fake leg? What kind of job would he get? He was a SEAL, a man of action. Not an office drone. His future looked alternately bleak and bright.
Then there were the dreams. He’d wake up screaming and only remember bits and pieces of the dream. When he was awake, he had flashes of memory that were so real he thought he’d been thrown back in time.
“Maybe I don’t want to remember it. Maybe you’re dragging all these memories up when they should be left alone.”
Dr. Walters took her glasses off and looked at him sternly. “Chief Davis…”
“Mike.” He interrupted. “I’ve been medically retired. I’m not Chief Davis anymore. I’m just Mike now.”
She nodded in acceptance. “Okay then. Mike. The reason we want you to remember is so that you can deal with these flashes and dreams now. Isn’t it better to drag them up than to let it fester for years? Eventually, they will come back on their own, and you have no control over when or where they will occur. By learning to deal with them now, we’re conditioning you to deal with them more effectively in the future.” She paused and let him think about that for a moment. She continued gently, “You’ve told me you have a daughter. It’s not a good idea for you to cope with this on your own around a child. If you let me, I can help you manage the flashbacks so you can move past this and concentrate on your daughter. Do you understand my concern with discharging you in this condition?”
Mike nodded, reluctantly admitting she was right. Mean old hag. Just being in the same room with Dr. Walters made him surly and mean-spirited. She was determined to poke the bear.
“Good. Then let’s try to bring these repressed memories to the surface so we can take them in hand. This will go much faster if we work together. Let me help you, Mike.”
Mike really didn’t think there was much help for him, but he was willing to try. For Madelynn and Tara. “Okay. I can try.”
Dr. Walters smiled softly at him. “That’s all I ask for. Now, let me ask you again. Why do you believe you are unable to recall these memories while you are conscious?”
He sighed. “Because I don’t want to remember. I wish it hadn’t happened, and I don’t want to remember it.”
“But it did happen. Can you tell me the last thing you do remember?”
Mike thought hard. He began talking slowly as fuzzy memories came to him. “We were pulling a security patrol on the perimeter. I was on duty that week and went out with the convoy whenever they pulled patrol. There were three vehicles. Two security trucks and a medic truck. I was in the first truck, which is why we hit the IED. I remember Albermarle telling a joke.” His eyes burned. “Albermarle told jokes all the time. Most of them couldn’t be repeated in front of female soldiers, but they were all Rangers. There are no female Rangers.” He took a deep, shaky breath and continued. “He told the joke and…”
Tumbling, rolling, falling.
“Chief!” Dr. Walters called urgently. “Michael, I need you to tell me what’s happening.”
Mike gripped the seat of the couch as if it could cradle him, keep him inside the Humvee as it rolled.
Blood. There was blood everywhere.
“Chief Davis, you are here at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland.”
And body parts.
“Chief Davis, you are safe. These are just memories resurfacing. Don’t fight them.”
Sand turned to mud in his mouth. He spit, noticing that the sand had a red tint. “Albermarle?”
“Chief Davis, PFC Albermarle was killed in the explosion.”
Where was Albermarle? Oh, there he was.
“Michael! I need you to concentrate on my voice. You are not in Afghanistan.”
Mike opened his eyes and looked vacantly around the room as he realized where he was. The images faded and Mike tried to blink away the sand in his eyes. There is no sand…
“Mike? Are you all right?” Dr. Walters was kneeling in front of him, her hands cradling his, a concerned expression on her face. “Are you still with me?”
Mike looked down at her. “I…” He wasn’t sure of her, of where he was, of anything. He shook his head, trying to reorient himself. “I think so.” He pulled his hands from hers and pressed his fingers to his eyes. “It’s so real. I can taste the blood, smell the tires burning. Sand stings my eyes. It’s just so real.”
Dr. Walters stood and walked over to her desk, returning to her chair. “That’s what flashbacks are, Mike. Your subconscious is trying to bring these memories to the surface. When it happens, try to remember that you’re here, and it’s over. Try watching it as an outsider instead of living it again.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? I did live it. I don’t know what it looked like as an outsider. I just know what it looked like from the inside.” Mike shook his head skeptically. That sounds fucking stupid.
“You’re going to have to separate yourself from it whenever you have a flashback. Just breathe deeply and tell yourself that you are in Maryland, not Afghanistan. Say it aloud if you need to. You have to find the best and most comfortable way to cope with it. Until you are able to separate yourself from the flashbacks, I’m not comfortable discharging you.”
&nb
sp; Distraught, he asked, “How long will it take?”
“I can’t answer that, Mike. It’s entirely up to you.” She hesitated and then said, “Sometimes weeks, sometimes years.” At his stricken look, she quickly amended, “But you made good progress today. You pulled yourself out of the memory when I talked to you. I don’t think it will take years.”
Her timer dinged. Struggling with his prosthetic, Mike stood. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Not waiting for her to respond, he opened the door and walked out. He closed the door softly and leaned against it, mentally exhausted.
He barely heard the soft words Dr. Walters spoke when she thought he was gone. “But I’ve been wrong before.”
Mike clenched his eyes closed and whispered, “Fuck.”
Chapter 8
December 1
Tara,
I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get online with you in a while. Dr. Walters doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to video chat. She says it puts too much pressure on me. I don’t understand how, but she’s the one with the medical degree. Plus, they took away my internet connection. So all I can do is write letters. How have you been? How’s Madelynn? I’ve made a little progress with my therapy. The flashbacks are getting a little better. That sounds stupid. They’re still the same, but it’s getting easier to distinguish the difference between a flashback and reality. I’m trying to do everything the doctors tell me so I can get past this. I don’t want to go into a flashback when you’re around and hurt you or Madelynn. God, I want to see you. Both of you. I’d like to get Madelynn something for Christmas if that’s okay. What would she want? Maybe I can convince them to give me my Internet back long enough to order her something. What would you like for Christmas? Don’t say nothing, I’ll just get you something anyway, and it’ll probably suck if you don’t give me some ideas. I should be able to make phone calls next week. I’d like to call you again. I’m sorry about the message I left on Thanksgiving. I know it didn’t make much sense. I’m so tired of being alone, and I just wanted you to know I’m glad that you’ve let me write you and talk to you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Last time we talked, I asked you to wait for me. I know that’s asking a lot, especially considering I can’t give you a good time frame. It’s not fair for me to ask you that, but there are a couple of things I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. First, I loved you. I wish I could go back and rip my own heart out instead of being so cruel to you. Second, I wanted Madelynn. I was so happy that you were pregnant. The reasons I had for what I did were so stupid and immature. I didn’t have the balls to be a real man and take care of you the way I should. Finally, I have spent the past few years finding women that reminded me of you. It’s you I want. If you can, please don’t get too involved with anyone until I have a chance. I shouldn’t ask you that, but I am. Even if you can’t wait, I want to be part of Madelynn’s life. I want to be part of your life too. Please write to me.
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