Easier said than done.
I grip onto my leg—no, my prosthesis.
Sometimes I forget what it is. What I’m missing. What I cannever get back.
***
I head out of the factory and see a few of the employees stilllingering as they wait for rides, most from their spouses—some from theirparents.
I’m still rattled from the experience with Jay, but at least thetension and the physical discomfort has settled. I noted the experience in anapp on my phone, so I can bring it up with Laura, my therapist—one I pay formyself since the VA’s resources are shit. Fortunately, the factory has anincredible insurance plan that allows me to see Laura, my psychiatrist, and myprosthetist.
Painful and frustrating as this can get, I’m one of the luckyones. Despite how the terrors haunt me and how bad it can get, it’s manageableenough that I can live some semblance of a normal life—enough that I can hideepisodes from my employees. And I can function well enough with a job—somethingI knew I needed. Something I desperately fought for, not just because I needthe money, but because I need my fucking sanity. At least when I’m busy, I candistract myself from the thoughts and sensations that bombard me on a regularbasis.
On my way to my car, I see Jay standing before the open hood ofhis Honda Civic, which is scratched up and has a few dents in it. I figure it’san apt representation of where he’s at in life.
I should breeze past him and head home. I’m too on edge. It’stoo easy for me to be triggered right now. But as he curses under his breath, Ishift my direction toward him.
I know what’s drawing me. His guardedness—his attitude—theyremind me of my friend. And as much as I know that’s liable to make what I’mexperiencing even worse, I can’t resist this impulse that pulls me to him.
He’s so preoccupied he doesn’t see me coming. His dark hair is amess. Sweat and dust covers his face from the work in the warehouse. We all geta little film of crud on ourselves from being in there all day. He’s wearingjeans and a t-shirt. When I reach the truck, he turns to me, his expression widewith confusion. Just like when he was looking at me in the warehouse after hepushed me down and exposed my leg for everyone to see.
Just thinking about that moment pains me. To be humiliated likethat in front of my guys is a serious bruise to my ego. They know about theleg, though. They knew I was injured in the war. It’s not something I’ve keptsecret. Something like that’s hard to hide because of my limp. But even thoughthey know, I don’t need them to be reminded of my faults. My weaknesses. My vulnerabilities.I’m their boss, not their friend.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Kline,” he says, his brown eyes shifting betweenme and the inside of his hood.
“Car troubles?” I ask, inspecting the inside.
He bites his lip and avoids my gaze.
“You mind if I take a look?” I ask.
He steps away, wiping his hands on his already dirty jeans.“Sure,” he says.
I inspect the inside before I try to start the engine.
“Looks like you’ve got a dead battery on your hands,” I say as Istep out of the driver’s side and approach him.
“Fuck,” he says, and I can see in his expression and in his ragethat he has contempt for the whole universe. Like it has conspired against himlike this.
He doesn’t know shit about how horrible and cruel this world canbe.
Some of the guys start laughing on the other side of the lot.“Motherfuckers,” Jay says as he notices them. He starts their way, but I snatchhis arm, gripping onto his thick bicep in the leather jacket he’s wearing.
I can’t help but immediately imagine pulling him aside in myoffice and roughing him up a bit. Wiping that frustrated look off his face andreplacing it with one of pure joy.
“Did you already forget what I fucking told you?” I ask, shakingthe fantasy from my thoughts. Although it’s not that easy to get rid of.
“They’re just loving this,” he says, his expression filled withconfusion and rage.
“I don’t need you starting another scene right now, okay? Justbe glad I don’t have any other appendages you can share with the world.”
His rage shifts to worry and guilt in an instant. “Dude, I’msorry about that. I really didn’t—”
“I was just trying to make light of it. Don’t get weird on me,okay?”
He nods. “Yes, sir.”
“I get that you want to be polite and all, but like I keeptelling you, you can just call me Reese.”
