“Because things with triggers go boom, now don’t they, and I would never hurt my sister—or anyone else.” He wasn’t a violent person and never had been. But he had some lingering doubt about exactly what he was capable of since the severity of his PTSD was categorized as complex.
“No, of course not. But you have hurt yourself in the past.” She was never one to spare his feelings or ignore the facts.
“It wasn’tlikelast time. I’m fine.”
And while it wasn’t a complete lie—he couldn’t ignore how much he was walking the line. When had he become such a prolific liar?
“That’s good,” she replied, squinting knowingly at him. Maybe she didn’t buy into that one after all. She nodded and reviewed her notes. Looking back up at him, she adopted a determined expression.
“Let’s change gears and not talk about your demons. Let’s focus on other things. On your hopes and dreams or—”
“My hopes and dreams?” With a loud snort, he sat back and stared at her in consternation. Had she fallen and hit her head?
“What do you find so funny about that?”
“Hopes and dreams? Seriously? I don’t bother with shit like that anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that I’m not some naïve kid anymore.”
Frowning at his cynicism, she began searching through her notes, stopping when she found the page she wanted.
“Enlisted at 18. Determined to be a helicopter pilot from a young age. Was thinking of switching to airplanes eventually. Perhaps piloting commercial airlines.” She smiled in satisfaction at successfully providing contradictory evidence to his claim.
He scoffed. “You writeperhapsin your own notes?” He refused to be baited.
She ignored his remark.
“You had plenty of hopes and dreams, Tanner. Like everyone else. There’s nothing juvenile or odd about that—in fact, I’d argue, having none is abnormal,” she said, shrugging and looking at him inquisitively.
“Yeah? How’d you figure?”
“Because the only people I know who stop looking ahead so completely—are the people who have given up on life and are simply waiting to die.”
“And for the hundredth time, I’m not suicidal,” he insisted, sitting up straight and giving her a hard stare. They’d been through this shit as soon as he’d returned to the US. There was a whole protocol in place for guys like him. He hadn’t been allowed to be alone forweeksat first. Until his doctors were convinced that he wouldn’t off himself.
“Of course not. You owe it to Ahmed to live. You wouldn’t insult his memory by killing yourself voluntarily—”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” he interjected angrily.
“I understand that you don’t want to die, Tanner. But you’re not really trying to live either.”
“I’m doing my best,” he replied half-heartedly.
“Are you?” she challenged coldly, devoid of her usual sympathy, stunning him into silence. “Dreams, hopes, plans. It’s long past time for you to get back out into the world. It’s time for you to re-engage with society, and you know it. You need to be singing a different tune by the time we meet next week, and I want to see some proof.” There was such harsh finality to her words then that they felt hammered into him. Like she’d slapped a largewantedposter in the middle of his chest and was ready to nail his ass to the wall with brass tacks if he failed to comply.
After his session, he was running on empty. So, he decided to skip going into work. On the drive home, he called Mark and told him he needed a few days off and to please, please, please, not tell Cameron. In return, Mark made him promise to check in with him every morning.
As soon as he got in the door, he collapsed onto the couch, wiped out despite how little he’d accomplished. He struggled to enjoy the peace and quiet and block out Dr. Jones’s remarks.The good doctor’s admonishments regarding his failure to re-engage with society and to make plans for the future haunted him. Finally, he grabbed a notebook and pen from the desk he’d bought from Lance and titled a blank page:
Hopes and Fucking Dreams
He tried hard to come up with something to write down, but he couldn’t think of a single thing. Not a single fucking thing.
Chapter 6
Lance really enjoyed his job, but by Friday morning, it felt like the week had been moving at a snail’s pace. He’d pushed snooze on his alarm and was dropping off to sleep again when his phone rang.
