“You’re not going anywhere, Tanner. No one’s taking you anywhere. Lance is on his way and will be here soon. You’re going to be fine. You’re home and you’ll stay right here with us.”
Tanner didn’t know how to get the truth across to Mark. He didn’t know how to explain that his world didn’t work that way and that he didn’t deserve a happy ending. He’d always known they’d come for him in the end. He’d outlived himself. Deep down, somewhere inside him, was a man who’d died in a cell thousands of miles away from here. Tanner was meant to be dead, and they’d make sure to bury him where he belonged. Histime was up and there wasn’t anything that Mark could do to stop it.
“It’ll kill me this time,” Tanner said. “Not the pain, not the beatings, not the—” he stumbled over the words. “It’s the loneliness that kills you in the end. It felt like a lifetime, and it was only three years—” he hiccupped, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to rip him apart.
“Tanner,” a voice called out, not Mark this time, but Lance.
It had the same bracing effect as a bucket of ice water. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision when Lance’s hands gripped his shoulders.
“Hey, T. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“I think I’m panicking.”
Lance nodded, wrapping his right arm around Tanner and pressing his head against his chest.
“I think so too,” Lance whispered calmly.
“I don’t want to go back. I’m so fucking scared of going back—” he confessed with a muffled sob.
“Where’s the letter, Tanner?”
“The letter?” Tanner asked, still so overwhelmed with panic that he couldn’t think straight.
“The letter, sweetheart. You said they sent you a letter. Where is it?” Lance asked, firmly grasping Tanner’s jaw and forcing him to meet his eyes.
“A letter,” Tanner repeated blankly.
“Where is it?” Lance’s tone was sharper, more insistent this time.
“The truck.” Tanner replied, finally remembering where he’d left it.
Lance turned and spoke rapidly to Mark, who took off running.
“Can you breathe with me for a minute?” Lance asked, returning his attention to Tanner and working on getting him to calm down.
“In,” Lance said as he inhaled deeply, waiting for Tanner to respond, but Tanner thought it was pointless and stupid and refused to cooperate. He knew he could breathe—it was just the heaviness sitting on his chest that made it difficult.
“I don’t want to go back,” Tanner repeated.
Lance didn’t say anything. Tanner blinked rapidly, bringing the room back into focus, noticing that Mark had returned with the manila envelope.
Lance released his hold on Tanner to take the envelope and pull out the letter.
“Tanner—Tanner, sweetheart, look!”
He was jostled back to the present as Lance put the letter from the Department of the Army in front of him. The embossed letterhead of black and gold was a blur, the white paper covered in words that all ran together.
“Official notice of medical discharge from duty,” Lance read the top part of the letter for Tanner. “You’re out. For good. You’re not going back. Look. You’re not going back, Tanner. Never. Never again.”
Tanner grabbed the letter with shaking hands. Although he scanned it from top to bottom, he couldn’t comprehend anything. His eyes filled with tears again, and he turned to Lance, still clutching the letter like it too was a life raft.
“I’m not going back?” he asked with a broken sob.
“Never. Not ever again.”
And Tanner burst into tears.
*****
