Summer I Found You (4 page)

“So, are you suddenly not telling people that you’re diabetic? It’s not that big of a deal.” Jen flicks on her turn signal.

Toby’s crammed into her miniature backseat.

“It comes with questions, and sympathy, and all sorts of crap that I don’t want to deal with.” I chew on my thumbnail as if it’ll save me from feeling.

We ride in silence for a few minutes. “How do you think Aidan feels with no arm? It’s not like he can hide that so he doesn’t have to answer questions.”

I hate it when she’s right. “But, it’s not like Aidan and I are going to be hanging out or anything.”

“Well, he might be with us for a while.”

“Really? Why?”

“His mom got remarried when he was in high school and now she has three-year-old twins and a baby, so there’s no quiet and no free bedrooms. I mean, he might get his own place eventually, but he’s only nineteen, and I’m not sure when he’ll start looking.”

“Oh.”

“And he’s just out of the Army and I think it takes some time for paperwork and disability and stuff to kick in.” Jen shrugs.

Nineteen and waiting for disability money. Crazy.

“Did you two have fun?” Her eyebrows wag up and down a few times.

“Actually…” I try to think less about the warmth of his leg and his stunning eyes and more about his teasing and lightening my mood a little. I’m not ready to be
noticing
someone again. “Yeah. The night was weird, but yeah. I’m sure he’ll never want to talk to me again, but Aidan was nice.”

“Good then.”

And I start to realize that my weird night would have been a whole lot worse without him. “Yeah. Good.”

W
ILL’S DRIVING MY CAR
like a pro. Must be all that training from his Wii. He shifts again, and it makes me hungry to
really
drive my car.

Just another reminder of what I’m missing, which reminds me of Kate. What an odd night. Definitely unexpected all the way around.

I don’t remember high school girls being so hot. Or maybe it’s that I was never able to get close to girls that hot while I was in high school. Obsessions with both JROTC and wrestling don’t always go with pretty girls. Well, they might sometimes, but they didn’t for me.

Kate. Legs, Kate.

It’s the first time since this mess that I talked about having one arm and it didn’t end in being frustrated or pissed. What a disaster though. A complete basket case over a guy who looks like…I don’t even know what. Like he’s trying too hard to be something I’d never want to be.

Reason number one I’m glad I’m out of high school. No drama. The way she watched him. Who would give someone power over them like that? Crazy. Stupid.

The chances of seeing her again are slim, and the chances of him taking her back are pretty good. My guess is that Kate is this good girl, and he wanted to sample something else, but he’ll go back. I should pass on to Jen that she should tell Kate to ignore him. That’ll probably work. Or, if she keeps wearing short skirts…that could turn him too. It definitely had me distracted.

“Thanks for letting me drive,” Will says as we pull up to the house.

“Well, we both know I didn’t have much of a choice.” I reach my hand out and he drops the keys in.

His eyes turn down, and he gets out of the car without another word.

Should it really be this big of a deal if I’m the one to bring it up? Hell, maybe I am more of a freak than I want to be.

I watch Will walk his gangly body up the front steps to the door as I slump in the passenger’s seat. My hand rests on the stick shift. As stupid as it is, I’m not ready to give up my car. Not yet.

Now I go through the process of getting out of the car. Unbuckle belt. Open door. Push door until it can stay open on its own. It’s all things that with two hands roll along, and with one, don’t. I climb the steps to my small apartment above the garage. My aunt and uncle were nice to let me use it, but I’ve got to start paying rent. Or doing something. Probably. Right now I just need to make sure I stay up late enough that I’m too tired to dream.

It’s dark. My heart bangs so loud I’m having a hard time hearing whispered orders. I want to ask for a repeat, but I’d get my ass busted. The voice giving orders is too quiet. The dirt’s in everything, and I’m lying in it now. Weapon at ready. Squinting into the blackness. Wishing I knew what the hell I’m supposed to do. A few shots pop in my ears, and even though there’s only eight of us, I’m not sure if the shots are from one of us. Or them.

I re-grip my weapon. I re-grip it again. Focus. Breathe.

All hell breaks loose. Shots. Fire. Grenade. Bullets slam into my body from all directions. All I can think about is how I need to get the guys out, but bullets keep hitting me, and I can’t move fast enough to help anyone.

I gasp for air as I sit up, my one arm hitting my torso over and over to check for holes. It takes me a minute to remember why both hands aren’t checking me over. Holy. Shit. I try to just breathe while the room comes into focus and I remember where I am. My eyes scan the beige room. Wood dresser. Wood desk. Large wooden framed bed.

I’m in Uncle Foster’s garage. Not in the desert. This blows. I’m now having dreams about things that never happened. The clock shows three in the morning, and the chances of me getting any more sleep tonight are nil.

“How are things?” Captain Daniels asks as I sit in his office. He’s National Guard and probably thinks he’s doing me some great favor by putting aside his private practice for a couple days a month to help poor guys like me.

“Fine, I guess.” I slide down in my chair, trying to look more relaxed than I am. In reality my heart’s pounding too hard, my breathing feels funny, and I’m just in an office, sitting across from some guy, trying to recover from another night of not enough sleep.

“Fine. You Guess,” he repeats back flatly.

“Yep.” Only I don’t want to be here. So in that sense, I’m completely not fine.

“Sleeping?”

“Sometimes.” I’m not at all ready to tell him that I don’t want to sleep. Sleep brings back memories of things I don’t want to think about, only they’re worse in dreams because the reality shifts. And the more I dream, the more the dreams taint my real memories, and the more horrible my actual memories become.

“How’d you do with your assignment?”

“Don’t make it sound like school,” I say. I hate this room. I hate the white brick walls. I hate his pictures, and his diplomas. Everything.

“Don’t
make
it school.” He crosses his legs.

It’s weird to see a guy in uniform crossing his legs in any way that doesn’t involve a foot or ankle being rested on a knee. He’s doing the girl leg cross. Not the guy one.

“How you doing on the job front? School?”

“I did my assignment,” I say, hoping to change the subject.

That suddenly feels safer than the list I know he’s about to run through.

“And?” He sits back farther in his chair like he’s relaxing, about to watch his favorite sports team or something. It puts me on edge. I’m not here for his entertainment.

“It’s all muddy. Everything I want has something attached to it that I don’t want. The assignment doesn’t make sense.” I want to fold my arms across my chest, but there’s no way to do that with only one.

“Well, then you took it seriously. Why don’t you start with something easy.” He brings a hand to his chin. Sometimes I wonder if he practices ways of looking sympathetic while staring into a mirror.

Brilliant. I smile. “I
want…
the hell out of here.”

“I walked into that one. Didn’t I?” He grins. I have no idea if it’s genuine or not. I never know.

“Yes, sir.”

“Been out with friends at all?”

Oh. Right. This actually makes me glad once again that I went out. “Yeah. My cousin dragged me out.”

“How was that?”

“Not bad. Talked with…” I suddenly don’t want to tell him it’s a girl. “Some guy. A friend of my cousin’s. Anyway. He didn’t seem bothered that I don’t have an arm you know? Was just curious.” Kate rambled about the oddest crap—jars, missing it, and her dumb joke about what does the other guy look like. But I didn’t even mind because we were talking about it. She wasn’t trying to pretend that my life is anything like normal.

“And your aunt and uncle?”

“Still weird.” I try to look out the window, but he has his blinds almost all the way closed. Probably because all I want to do in here is stare out the window.

“I’ve suggested this before. You could bring them in, or your mom.”

I push out a chuckle in hopes he doesn’t see that even if they wanted to come, there’s no way I want them here. Sucks enough for me. “Mom’s got her hands full with her second family, and my aunt and uncle work. It’s not important.”

He writes down a few notes. I hate it when he does that. I wish for X-Ray vision, even though reading a dumb doctor’s note seems like a pretty ridiculous waste of a superpower.

“Have you been to John Pilot’s house?” he asks.

My stomach twists tight, threatening to make me lose my lunch and cut off my air supply. “No. I mean, I
mean
to.” This is the last thing I want to talk about.

“I believe his wife and son are living with her parents, not too far from here.”

“Yeah. I think I knew that.” I know exactly where she is, but I can’t face her. My sergeant’s wife. Can’t. They got married young. She got pregnant. He freaked and joined the Army. Wasn’t sure if he’d stay in, but they needed the money and needed the medical. I wanted in. I wanted that life, and now I’m the guy he should be. One arm is better than dead. Way better than dead. And it’s not like I want to die, or wanted to, it’s that I was the single, cocky guy out there, and I was the one who lived. It doesn’t make any sense.

“You’re deep in thought. Care to share?”

“Nope.” I rest my left foot across my right knee. The way a guy
should
cross his legs. Better.

“I really want to see you doing something to move forward. You could get in touch with the Wounded Warrior Project. They have some great programs, people…I know you need time to heal up, and I know nothing’s easy right now, but the longer you stay in the same place, the harder it’s going to be for you to move past this.”

“Past what exactly? The fact that I lost my arm? My friend? My career? Wanna pick one or should I?” I push to standing. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Soldier, you haven’t been excused.”

“I don’t give a shit, Captain. The Army doesn’t call me a soldier anymore. They call me a veteran, and I’m taking my wounded ass out of here.” I step out of his office and head for the door, air, and my uncle’s car.

I’m sure Mom’s house won’t improve my shitty day, but I know she’s worried about me, and feels bad that her life is so crazy. We don’t see each other very often. Her new husband, Stan, works hard as a manager at Home Depot, but doesn’t make a lot. They have three small kids, my half brothers and sister, and a very tiny house.

“Aidan.” She smiles wide as she opens the door. Same blond as Jen, Will, Aunt Beth, and me. But there are dark circles under her eyes. They probably match mine.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Sorry.” She looks down at her old college sweats. “I’m a mess. Trey isn’t sleeping well. I finally got him to sleep, but the twins have stopped taking naps…”

“I just. I was on post, and thought I’d drop in on my way back to Aunt Beth’s house.” But I don’t know if I just walk in or what. This isn’t the house I grew up in. Mom lost that when Dad died. Got Alzheimer’s way young and was gone in two years. I was thirteen. When a guy loses his dad at an age he needs him most, he either gets pissed at the world, or he learns to accept the shit life throws at him. If it weren’t for Mom, I’d be the first kind of guy. And maybe I still am in some ways.

The memory of Dad still pushes into me, making it hard to breathe. I don’t have a lot of hope of ever forgetting Afghanistan the way I want to, when after seven years, losing him still hurts this much.

“Come in,” she whispers. “The twins are…”

At that moment I hear a baby’s cry from down the hall.

Mom’s neck goes slack and she stares at the ceiling. “I swear, that boy…”

“I’ll get him.” I slide my shoes off and start into the house.

“Can you…I mean…”

I turn to see Mom’s face redden.

“You’ve
held
him before. It’s getting him out…” she stammers.

“He’s a baby, Mom. I can get him.” I hope. It’s not something I gave a lot of thought to when I offered.

“Mom!” Lily cries from the kitchen. “Gracen dropped the applesauce!”

“Aidan.” Mom rests a hand on my arm. “I’m glad you stopped in.” But there’s too much worry on her face for me to just take the nice gesture.

I move up the hall, step into Trey’s room and he’s settled back into sleep.

I’m relieved because now that I’m looking at him and his crib, I think getting him out on my own would be tricky.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Mom bustles in whispering. “He just does that sometimes. Come on.” She holds the door open, and takes my arm as we walk back up the hall. “The twins are watching Dora, so we should have at least twenty minutes for you to catch me up on stuff.”

“Oh, great.” I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but after going to the shrink, and spending another morning under the watchful eyes of my aunt and uncle, I’m on edge.

“Fine.
You
pick something. One thing to share with your old mom.” She laughs totally unbothered by my reluctance to talk.

No one would ever think she was my mom. She’s too young. She had me when she was sixteen, and she made it. Put herself through school and took care of me. My birth dad bailed a long time ago, and I don’t know that we’ve ever heard from him. My dad was the guy Mom married at eighteen. He was twenty-four, and I was two. He’s the only dad who counts.

The new guy, Stan, is just Mom’s husband. They didn’t get married till after the twins were born when I was almost seventeen. I was in basic training a year after their wedding, and spent very little time at home during that year. He’s still the stranger married to my mom.

Mom sits in the middle of the couch, and pats the seat next to her. I flop down and let myself relax.