By the time we were done, my head was spinning from all the information Glenda had provided me. Thankfully, she’d also handed me a stack of papers with all kinds of links I could check out in my own time. I’d have to make myself sit down and do that. So far, I’d employed the head-in-the-sand strategy, but something told me that method would come back to bite me in the ass.
I worked myself into my car, shoving my crutches into the space in front of the passenger seat. Fuck, I was tired. And pissed off. Not even at Glenda, though I didn’t appreciate her pushing a shrink on me.
I’d told her and everyone else a million times that talking was overrated. If others felt better after pouring their hearts out to a total stranger, or—far worse if you asked me—participating in a support group, power to them. Seriously, whatever worked for you. But in my entire life, talking about my feelings had never solved jack shit for me, so I wasn’t gonna start now.
So yeah, that had irritated me, but it wasn’t why I felt so…unsettled. That was because my Army time was officially coming to an end, and I wasn’t ready yet to say goodbye to something I thought I’d be doing a hell of a lot longer. I’d wanted to serve until my retirement, which was four more years. I wasn’t done yet, and before the accident, I’d had a lot of good years ahead of me. Not anymore. So now what?
Jesus, the thought of having to apply for a job made it hard to breathe. What the fuck was I gonna do? I couldn’t stand for long periods yet, and it would take another three months before I was fully mobile with my prosthesis. But even then, what would I bequalified to do? I had a high school diploma but nothing else, so where was that gonna get me?
Nash had suggested college, saying I should take advantage of the options I had to get a degree through the GI Bill. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t even know where to start with choosing what to study. I wasn’t a reader or one for academics, never had been. I’d always been a hands-on learner who excelled in practical skills. Not the most obvious candidate for a college degree, in other words.
Unlike Heath, apparently, who seemed to love being a teacher. Completely unfair of me to hold that against him, but I couldn’t help but envy him for not having to figure out that part. We might have a similar injury, but the consequences for him were less far-reaching.
Not that it made my situation worse. Fuck, it wasn’t a trauma competition to see whose life sucked the most. No, it was simply one of the many ways in which he and I were different.
I sighed. I’d have to think about this, talk it over with Nash and the others. Maybe they’d have some ideas or suggestions.
Just when I started the engine, my phone beeped with the telltale sound I used for reminders. I did a quick check. Shit, it was Forest’s birthday. Good thing I’d set a reminder, or I would’ve forgotten about it. I’d better call him now because chances were I wouldn’t remember by the time I got home.
“Hey, bro,” I said as soon as he picked up. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks! Can’t believe you remembered. This must be your first happy birthday call to me on the day itself in, what, five years?”
“One of the few benefits of not being on active duty,” I said dryly, knowing he was teasing me.
“How are things going?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to give him the standard “fine” brush-off, then closed it again, though I didn’t know why. He and I wereclose, considering I’d been gone so much and he was eight years younger than me, but that didn’t mean I talked to him about stuff. That wasn’t personal. I didn’t talk to anyone. But for some reason, I had an urge to speak the truth. “Just heard they’re starting the process of getting me a medical discharge.”
“Oh, Creek…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It hurts.”
Did I mention Forest and I were opposites? He was as sensitive and tender as I was rough and distant. He always had been, and I loved him for it, even if the idea of going through life like that scared the crap out of me. “I don’t know what comes next, and I don’t like that.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’ve always liked having a plan, a path.”
“It got me to where I am today. Minus the missing limb, that is. I definitely didn’t plan that.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with having a plan and following it. But I suppose you feel you’re floundering now without one.”
I cleared my throat as that stupid tightness returned. “Kinda, yeah. Don’t appreciate that, gotta say.”
“I can imagine.”
“Nash mentioned college.”
“Wouldn’t you get a discount?”
“Close to free, I think. But a degree in what?”
“Something that would make you spend a lot of time outside,” Forest said. “You always love the outdoors.”
“Not sure if you noticed, but I’m not exactly outside material anymore, courtesy of my titanium leg.”
Forest was quiet for a few beats. “Maybe I’m missing something, but are you saying you won’t be able to spend time in the outdoors anymore?”
