“I bet.” Eyes soft, Jude shot me a sympathetic look as he turned toward Durango. “Is the driving restriction permanent?”
“Dunno.” I gave Jude a more honest answer than I would most. His tone had been curious but not prying, which I respected. “Hope not.”
In the months since my injury, clarity had been in short supply. The recommendation that I not drive seemed to stem from a combination of caution around the medication I was on, continued symptoms like the sudden-onset headaches, and fears around my coordination issues. Multiple experts, ranging from doctors to physical therapists, meant multiple answers, none of which I liked.
Jude nodded thoughtfully, undoubtedly well-versed in medical uncertainty. “Well, hopefully your team will give you the green light to try soon.”
“Maybe.” I wanted to keep my expectations low, but my yearning for Jude’s wish to be reality came through in my voice. “Reflexes getting better.”
I’d made a point to continue my occupational therapy exercises whenever I found myself alone with a few moments to spare, doing things like dropping a pen and trying to catch it, squeezing stress balls in my pocket, and completing eye-movement exercises.
“That’s awesome.” Jude’s tone was enthusiastic as opposed to patronizing. “Speaking of, I do want to have you over to game sometime. That might be good reflex practice too.”
“Gaming therapy.” My laugh came out giddier than I intended. Having someone who seemed genuinely happy for my little successes was something of a novelty and made me feel likeI’d just racked heavy weights, a lightness coming over my limbs. “I’m down.”
“Good.” Jude drifted into silence before flipping the radio to the same country station I’d enjoyed on the last trip to Durango.
Outside, the evening sky was the sort of cloudless pale blue against the rugged red terrain that made a body feel grateful to live here. I appreciated how Jude didn’t demand conversation, but perversely, his easy acceptance made me more determined to engage.
“Tell me about…your truck.” I got the question out with only the barest of hesitations. I wasn’t simply making small talk either. I was honestly curious about Jude’s attachment to this battered green truck. I’d learned a long time ago that nearly every beloved truck held a story, and I wanted Jude’s.
“Sarge here started out life as a secondhand purchase by an army buddy after we finished basic training together.” Jude’s storytelling ability didn’t disappoint as his rich voice took on a more animated tone. “Private Earnest McGilchrist. Skinny kid out of Alabama. Good soldier, better friend. Never made it home from our second deployment.” Jude paused to exhale hard. “I bought the truck off his folks. My first and only car purchase. We’ve seen some miles together.”
“Lotta years.” I echoed his solemn tone.
It went without saying that I was sorry for the loss of his friend. Fact of life in the service, a harsh reality no one enjoyed. Maybe someday, I’d have the words to tell Jude about my collection of mementos. A belt buckle. A lucky quarter. A dog-eared paperback. A faded picture with a message scrawled on the back. Tiny items that took up less than a pocket in my duffel bag, but each represented a friend lost too soon. Voice thick, I patted the truck’s dash again. “Good truck. Earned its retirement.”
“That’s a great way to look at it.” Jude brightened some. “It’s been a good truck for sure. Served me well.”
“Give it an honorable discharge.” A barky laugh escaped my chest, wiggling past the tightness of loss. “Better than a lot get.”
“Truth.” Jude’s expression turned more pensive. “Glad I got out when I did.” His left eye twitched as he glanced over at me. “Sorry. That was insensitive. I know you didn’t choose your medical discharge.”
“Nah.” I waved off his concern. I’d met my share of folks like Jude who either regretted serving or who couldn’t get out fast enough. “Why’d you join up?”
“Good question. Ol’ Longmore at the recruiters’ office was damn convincing. My dad served back in the day, so family history.” Drumming his index finger against the steering wheel, Jude ticked off reasons. “Dad’s parents were poor ranchers. They didn’t have vet school kind of dough. Army got him his education, so I figured on doing the same, save him and my mom some cash.” Jude’s gaze turned far away as if there was more to the story, but before I could prod, he straightened in his seat. “And I was young and naive. Thought I could do some good in the world.”
“Ah.” I made a sympathetic noise. “Me too. Wanted…” I searched for the simplest way to explain my own motivation. Eighteen seemed so very long ago. “More like Colt. Less like Kane. Goals.”
“Not bad goals.” Jude slowed as traffic picked up on the outskirts of Durango. “And then you stayed in, so you must have found something worth staying for.”
“Eh. I like routine.” The joke was easier than the truth, which was that I’d had no plan B for my life. Plan A of serving out my twenty had given me the sort of purpose that was difficult to articulate even before my TBI. Not many would choose thearmy over family, over settling down, over any number of other professions or ambitions.
“Another vote for change is hard.” Jude understood me better than most. “And routine is good. I picked up some good habits in the military. Not gonna discount that. Heck, my body probably misses PT.”
“Mine too.” Chuckling, I stretched. My muscles were enjoying life as a ranch hand, but I had a ways to go before returning to my former stamina.
Jude gave me a sideways glance that lingered a hair too long. I wasn’t a total stranger to appreciative looks, but I turned my attention to the traffic and scenery out the window nonetheless.
“We’re almost to the dealership.” Jude’s voice came out a bit forced, like he had also noted the awkward moment. “They’ll try and steer me into something shiny and new, but I’d rather have used and dependable. You can help me spot potential lemons.”
“Will do.” Turning my gaze back toward him, I gave a nod, doing my best to convey that everything was back to normal, no tension here.
“And then I’ll take you up on that burger.” Jude shot me a grateful smile that made his eyes light up with twinkling flecks of gold, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
“Great.” I continued smiling as we exited the truck.
As is typical at car dealerships, several younger salespeople were clustered near the big glass doors, jockeying for whose turn it was to greet potential customers. Evidently, a young woman in a smart gray suit and low heels won out as she was the first to step forward, hand already outstretched.
