Page 36 of The Darkness Within

I’m doing him a fucking favor.

After the track, the squad lines up in formation for push-ups and jumping jacks. With my leg, I can’t even pretend to participate. Instead, I just stand here with my stopwatch and my clipboard, sweating my fucking balls off, while I pretend not to see them cheat every way they can.

Holy shit, I’ve become Riggs!

Chief Burgess sneaks up behind me. The only warning I have is when my recruits stop cutting corners and do actual push-ups.

“Looking good, Sommers. Before the end of day, you need to complete training for gas masks.”

“Sir, I won’t be able to handle that without a relapse.” I’m talking about flashbacks, and he knows it. Burgess stares at me for a moment before he nods. “CPR then. And first aid tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, and Sommers? It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

“Sir?” Is he telling me to read between the lines? I can’t even see the bold print.

“Your request came through. They’re letting you use your accrued leave time to ride out the remainder of your contract until your retirement goes through. Tomorrow is your last day.”

“Yes, Sir,” I mumble, feeling dazed.

Tomorrow is my last day as a soldier.

My last day in the United States Army.

My last day with a career and a purpose.

What the fuck am I after tomorrow?

He’s struggling, and it’s killing me not to interfere, to jump in with both hands and make everything easier for him. But I would only be hurting him. Nash has to want this badly enough to figure it out on his own. Yesterday he joined me at another NA meeting after working out with Riggs. And today, he went to the Bitches with Stitches group.

He’s limping badly, worse than before, and I know the physical therapy is kicking his ass, but if he just keeps with it, he’ll become stronger, he’ll hurt less. Nash is in that stage where he’s accepted his surrender to alcohol and pills, but he’s looking for loopholes, trying to beat the system. He’s searching for anything and everything to fill the void. It’s my job to steer him back on track when he veers off course, to gently remind him of his goals, or not so gently if need be.

When I caught him stealing drugs in the kitchen the day before yesterday, I was beyond angry. But then I realized after taking a step back that I wasn’t angry, I was hurt and disappointed, because I want this so badly for him. I want Nash to give me reasons to believe in him.

Needless to say, we won’t be keeping prescriptions in the common areas of the house any longer. We never should have. It was poor judgment on my part, and it won’t happen again. On the other hand, Nash isn’t sleeping. The dark bags under his eyes are growing darker every day. He’s struggling without the sedatives, but I refuse to give in. He’s going to have to find a way to overcome it without pills.

Water trickles softly over slate rocks, filling the pond below the waterfall and making gentle waves ripple over the glassy surface. The sound is soothing, filling me with peace and serenity. I’ve invested a lot of time and money into transforming my backyard into a spot ideal for meditation and relaxation, not only for my benefit, but for the guys that live here at Serenity House. Everyone needs a spot to get away, where they can calm their mind and focus their energy. A place where they can remember what’s most important to them.

Blowing out a calming breath of fresh air, my shoulders sag with release as I unburden myself. For the last twelve years, I’ve remained clean and sober every day, but I still have one addiction I struggle with more than any other—getting lost in other people’s problems. I just want to help so badly, but sometimes, I use it as a crutch, to not have to focus on myself, to not put myself first. Lately, I’ve been so involved with Violet and Nash that I haven’t taken care of me, my most important patient.

Tonight is all about me. A cup of coffee with my favorite coconut creamer. A banana nut muffin with chocolate hazelnut spread. After reading a passage from the NA textbook on letting go and letting God, I did an audio-guided meditation, reminding myself of my priorities and goals for the week.

Get a haircut.

Update my gratitude journal.

Make an appointment to get my yearly physical exam.

Try out the new Indian restaurant that opened down the street.

All little things, but taking time to put myself first is huge. It’s how I remember not to get lost in others’ problems. It’s how I put my recovery first. It’s how I remember to enjoy the little things, all the best things, about being clean and alive. Remaining grateful and living day-to-day is the key to my recovery. It’s how I’ve stayed clean for over a decade.

After I get the chaos in Nash’s head sorted, these are the small but crucial life lessons I want to teach him.

I want to show him there is still pleasure in living. His head will never be completely healed, no matter how much therapy he endures, no matter which meds he takes. The nightmares will always linger, in sleep and in his waking hours. His past will always haunt him. But my goal is to help him cope with his memories and his fears so that they don’t overshadow the joy in his life. He has a long way to go before he’s ready to stop and smell the daisies, but I have faith that he’ll get there if he wants it badly enough.

The bones in my back crack as I unfold from my seated position and push to my feet. Christ, I’m getting old. Whoever said thirty-five is the new twenty never served in the military. Next to the glass door that leads to the sunroom is a door that leads down to my basement apartment. My private entrance. The muffin and coffee are enough to fill me for now, so I skip the kitchen and head straight for the shower, stripping off my clothes as I go.

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