“Because they love you. They look up to you. More than that, though, I doubt they’d say that because you don’t allow yourself to be a burden. You won’t accept help from anyone. Why?”
With a guttural groan, he surged to his feet, plucked a stress ball from my desk and began squeezing the thing a million miles a minute.
“Because I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Why? They’re family.”
“Because I don’t want to let them down, alright? You don’t understand, Rose. I’m the oldest brother. I raised my brothers while my dad worked, and I became the head of household when he died. I run a multi-million dollar company, with offices all over the country. Let me rephrase that—Ididrun it before a bullet lodged in my brain.”
“It will come back. Everything will come back.”
“What if it doesn’t?!” He raised his voice and spun to face me. “What if it doesn’t, Rose? You don’t get it. Even if everything does go back to normal… if I heal completely… I’m… I’m afraid they won’t look at me the same anymore, alright? That no one will. That everything will be different. People will question my decisions, wondering if I was having a damn relapse or something.Dammit.”He began pacing again. “You should see the look in my brothers’ eyes when they talk to me. Like I’m a fucking toddler. Or, the looks I get at the grocery store, the diner, the feed store. Sorry. Sorry for the damn language.”
“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it. And the looks you’re getting around town aren’t new. I think you got looks before. Your ruthless military reputation precedes you. You’re a pretty intimidating presence. You have to know that.”
“It’s not the same. It’s different.”
“I think people are just as wary of you now as before the incident. Circumstances are different, sure, but I think your perception of yourself is what has changed. Tell mesomethingyou like about yourself. Please.”
“Nothing, Rose. Nothing. I can’t stand the person I am right now.” He walked to the window, covered his mouth with his hand and stared at dark clouds in the distance. A minute passed, then in a voice as if he were talking to himself, he said, “I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself. I look at my hands, my arms, my legs, as if they are separate from my body. Like they aren’t even my own.” He turned to me, a confused, pained look on his face that broke my heart. “How screwed up is that?”
A moment ticked by as I mustered up the courage to ask the question I’d been wondering since we’d first met.
“Phoenix I want you to think about this next question carefully. I want you to consider your answer before you respond. Be truthful. Alright?”
“I will.”
“Do you ever think about hurting yourself?”
“No.”
“Ending your life?”
His gaze shifted to the window in an expressionless stare.
“I wouldn’t do that to my family.” He said finally. “That’s not how we do things. We face problems head on and fix it.”
“But this is different.”
“It is.” He nodded.
“Because you can’t fix it with your hands.”
He nodded.
I stood, walked over to him. “I don’t want you to become a statistic, Phoenix.”
“Oh, you mean, statistics like, patients with some sort of traumatic brain injury are four times more likely to commit suicide than the general population? And those that are depressed, on top of that, are twenty-one times higher to commit suicide?Twenty-onetimes.” He turned to me, a fire behind those blue eyes. “I spent decades in the military, Rose, don’t forget that. I know all about TBI and the effect it has on even the most badass of men. I’ve lost brothers, not only on the battlefields, but to the very statistics I just rattled off.” His jaw clenched as he looked down at me. “I think of those men every day, every night as I go to sleep. See their faces, see their families’ faces. I—we, you, our country—owe them the greatest respect and I’ll have a word with anyone who judges them for choices they made. They are to be remembered and given the utmost respect. I’ll see them again, but not at the cost of my own hand. Not because I’m too good for it. Because they wouldn’t want that.”
My hand drifted to his arm. When it connected, he flinched. My heart skipped a beat as we stared at each other.
It’s weird now, looking back at that moment, it was as if my body knew something bigger than me was happening there. Little paths unfolding around us, about to take us to places we’d never been before… and some I’d never go back to. The universe was in control of that moment, and I knew, without question, we were both exactly where we were supposed to be at that very moment.
He took a deep breath, a small step back. “The onequestion that I keep having… the one I can’t let go of, is wondering if…” His eyes shimmered and he looked away.
“Tell me, Phoenix.”
“If I would have rather not come out of it. If I would rather be dead than… whatever I’ve become.”
