Battlescars (6 page)

“Made you tap out,” Chester said. It was just a statement, not a brag, and Dyson grinned.

“My jaw hurts.”

“Good.”

Dyson let himself collapse to the floor. He lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the gym around them, concentrating on his breathing. As soon as his heart stopped racing, he sat up and looked at Chester.

“You were distracted,” Chester said.

“Was I?”

Chester shrugged. “Not the usual distracted, either.”

Dyson knew what he meant. The usual distraction was the nightmares and the flashbacks and all those terrible things that he had brought home with him from Iraq. This wasn’t anything at all like that. The truth was, he had been thinking about Kayla from the moment she walked away from him that morning, and there had been little else on his mind. He had even grinned to himself like a fool as he went into the drugstore and spent a few dollars he really couldn’t spare on the generic Benadryl. He couldn’t wait until Saturday.

“So who is she?” Chester asked.

“Who’s who?”

He was met with a wicked grin. “That’s what I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“If she was just some piece of tail you would be telling me all about her by now. But she’s not, so you’re keeping things close to the vest. I get it, man.”

Dyson unlaced his glove and put his fingers to his jaw. “Damn, Chester. Remind me not to think about women when you’re around.”

“You gonna tell me or what?”

Dyson gave it a long bit of thought. Chester simply waited.

“She’s…she’s a strange bird,” Dyson finally said. “I met her at a bar the other night. She was being hit on by two guys who deserved a good beating, and I stepped in. Something about her was just so…intriguing, I guess.”

“Every woman at a bar is intriguing if you have enough liquor in you.”

“Yeah, but this one was different. She wasn’t the type of girl you find in a bar. She seemed to be so aloof and distant but at the same time, she wasn’t unfriendly…it was weird. A contradiction, you know?”

Chester nodded. “I think I do.”

“Then I saw her here at the gym…she does accounting for George. I turned around and there she was. She was watching me like I was something she couldn’t wait to eat, man. That threw me for a loop.”

Chester grinned. “Like you aren’t used to women hitting on you!”

“But she wasn’t! When she saw that I noticed her, she was suddenly cool as a cucumber straight from the fridge. She was all business. It was the weirdest thing. It just made me even more intrigued after the attitude at the bar. Then I saw her again at the school.”

“You’re running into this girl a lot.”

“I know! I saw her at the school while she was in a class. I didn’t think about the fact that she was a student there, because damn, you know how many students there are there? It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. But there she was.”

“And?”

“And I asked her out, and she said yes. Kinda. She wants me to meet her at the animal shelter that she volunteers at on Saturday.”

“Okay, so this is good. It’s not like you’re a green little teenager about to get laid for the first time.”

Dyson sighed and stretched out on the mat. “Maybe that’s it, Chester. I’m not going to get laid. She’s not the type. And strangely enough? I’m okay with that.”

Chester was quiet for a long time, and then his voice came over the mat, soft and slow. “Sounds like my little Dyson is growing up.”

Dyson stared at the lights above him. Why was he okay with that, anyway? He had become accustomed to one night stands with women he picked up in the bars, soft bodies that asked for nothing beyond pleasure from him. He was used to not getting close to anyone, and that was just the way he liked it. He knew that he seemed like a great catch on the surface, but what woman would want to deal with a man who was as fucked up as he was on the inside? He knew that the demons he fought every night would make life very difficult for any woman who wanted to truly get to know him.

But something about Kayla made him think that maybe he could get past that. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, the directness in her eyes. Or maybe it was the fact that she seemed so strong, strong enough to handle a man like him. Or maybe he was just tired of being alone, and it was time to open up to the right woman. The question he had to answer was whether or not Kayla was the right woman.

“I really like her,” he said simply, and Chester chuckled.

“Just don’t let her distract you too much. I’ll be forced to kick your ass again.”

Dyson laughed and playfully saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Later that evening, Dyson went to see his mother.

The residential care facility was clear across town, but his mother was deep enough in dementia to believe that she was back at her old childhood town in Georgia. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she was miles and miles away, and really, what good would it do anyway? She would only be more confused.

He went to see her at least once a week, and he was determined to keep that up. But every time he left, he felt the gnawing guilt that she was there with someone else instead of with him. Shouldn’t he be the one caring for her? Every time that thought came up, he reminded himself of what her doctor had said – that at this point in her life she needed constant care and supervision, much like a little child would, and that Dyson would have to devote himself full-time to caring for her. That was something almost no one had the luxury of doing, and so that’s why there were so many people just like his mother in care facilities. Good, well-meaning people who wanted their family members with them often just couldn’t make it work.

Knowing the facts eased the guilt a bit, but it was always there, lurking around and waiting to rise up with a black mood at the worst moments.

Tonight, though, guilt was the last thing on his mind. The nurses smiled at him as he walked past. They knew him well, and so they never stopped him to ask where he was going. Few of the residents had visitors as regular as Dyson, and the nurses were always happy to fetch fresh water for the flowers Dyson replaced once a week, without fail. He gave them a bright smile and asked how she’d been.

“Oh, Miss Anne’s been just fine. She just asked about you a minute ago, and we told her that you were sure to be here, as usual.”

Dyson thanked the nurse as he turned into the room at the end of the hallway.

His mother looked up. She recognized him immediately – a true blessing in the midst of the dementia that had taken over most of her memories. She sometimes didn’t even recognize the same nurse who cared for her every day, and sometimes she got confused about her own name. But when she saw Dyson, the reaction was always the same: She knew her boy. Her broad smile warmed his heart. She was wearing a cotton duster, one that had small mother-of-pearl buttons along the front, and her favorite shoes, the slippers that were so worn they were starting to fray along the seams. She had her favorite quilt over her shoulders, one she had made herself during healthier days. Dyson’s mother even smelled the same at every visit, like lilacs and fresh soap.

But her eyes were a little vacant, her hands a little uncertain, and that was the reminder that she wasn’t quite who she appeared to be. Not anymore.

“Baby!” she said, and rose from her chair. She took her time, moving with the careful concessions demanded by age. He put the flowers in the vase on her table, the one that was always waiting for his new batch of pretty pinks and reds and yellows, and then he turned to take her into his arms. He held her for a long time. Her body was still plump and round, the comforting cuddle that he had always known. That, at least, had not changed a bit.

“How are you, Momma?”

They sat down in chairs facing each other and Dyson looked around. The room looked very much like a comfortable bedroom. Even the bed looked like something out of a happy home instead of a residence staffed with nurses. The only signs of where he really was were the call lights everywhere and the handles here and there, meant to help her get from one side of the room to the other. That was one of the reasons he had chosen this place for her, because he could bring her old furniture and make her feel as though she were at least somewhat at home.

“I was just sitting down to crochet a hat for Jenny’s baby.”

Who was Jenny? He thought about it for a moment and then it hit him: Jenny was his aunt, who had passed away a decade before. Her baby was at least forty years old now. She sent Christmas cards every year and sometimes called if she was feeling sentimental.

His mother was back in her earliest years.

Dyson was both saddened and pleased. Saddened because he would never have his mother back, the woman who had always given him good advice and looked forward to the day when he brought home a wife and grandkids. But he was pleased that if she had to go through the loss of her memory, the parts of it that remained were all good ones, the shiny memories that came from the best moments in life. If he had to give up all he knew and could only keep a few certain things, he would want to keep the good ones.

He knew all about how bad memories could destroy happiness.

So it was with a light heart that he listened to his mother talk about his aunt Jenny and her little baby. She talked about making dinner for the big family and going on carriage rides in downtown Savannah. She talked about the weather and what she wanted for her birthday. “More thread!” she announced, and Dyson vowed to get it for her.

A pleasant hour went by before the nurse stuck her head in the door and gently said it was about time for bed. Dyson took that has his cue to say his goodbyes. His mother seemed sad to see him go until he promised her that he would be back next week at the same time, and that he’d try to fit in an additional visit as well. Pleased and peaceful, Anne reached for her son.

“I love you, son,” she said, and he hugged her again. He took a deep breath of her lilac scent.

“I love you so much,” he told her.

As he left, he realized that he hadn’t said a single word about his life. He hadn’t told her about Kayla or boxing or anything else. Instead, he had simply sat and listened to her ramble, and he realized that was more soothing than talking about everything he had on his mind. It was actually nice to sit down with someone who demanded only that he listen to her. He could easily get tired of his own thoughts and problems, so to be with someone who didn’t pry about them was a blessing in disguise.

He sat in his car in the parking lot, looking at her window until the light went out. He waited another minute, just to make sure, and imagined that she was already on her way to dreamland. Only then did he start the car and pull away.

K
ayla looked at her watch. It was five minutes before the shelter opened, and she was decidedly nervous. Why in the world had she invited Dyson to come to this place? She had come to see it as her own private getaway, where no one really knew her but everyone was grateful for her presence. That especially held true for the animals who trusted her to care for them even though no one else in their lives had.

They knew her well enough to know that she brought only good things with her, like scratches on the ears and pets on the back and even a belly rub, along with the good food. Sometimes she even took them out into the sunshine and chased them around. During the first days, they had all kept to the back of their cages and not trusted her at all, even snapping at her when she got too close. Now, almost all of the animals – even the newer additions – thought she was the cat’s meow, and rushed to the cage doors at the sound of her voice.

If she could take every one of those sweet babies home with her, she would. Kayla was certain they knew it.

Why had she invited him here? She kept asking herself that question as the doors opened and Rose, the administrator gave her a smile. She stepped inside, and the moment she did, she heard a car pull into the driveway. She turned to see him step out of it – Dyson, the man she had been thinking far too much about since that day outside her classroom.

He came dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the perfect attire for dealing with the cats and dogs in the shelter. He also came with a radiant smile and an eager attitude. She waited for him at the door and smiled as he made his way to her.

“Good morning,” he said, his blue eyes locking with hers. “Now I’m the one following you!”

Kayla laughed out loud. The sound made her feel both confident and shaky. “Good morning. Ready to meet my friends?”

His smile became even broader. “I can’t wait.”

She stepped into the room and introduced Dyson, the picture of politeness, to the administrator. Rose and Dyson shook hands as a small dog peeked into the room. It clearly had the run of the place, since it wasn’t caged, and the very second that Rose excused herself to do some paperwork, he bolted to Kayla and jumped up on her, his tail wagging.

Kayla scratched his ears. “How goes it, Mr. Marbles?”

The dog let out one happy bark. In the wake of the sound, other dogs in the shelter started barking too. Kayla leaned down and got a face full of dog kisses. She giggled and put her arms around Mr. Marbles.