Page 59 of The Darkness Within

“Leif?” he asks, sounding equal parts amused and horrified.

“Yeah, like leaf, but Leif. Sounds more like a proper name. I couldn’t just keep calling him ‘the plant’.”

Brewer rubs his face, and I know he’s hiding his smile behind his hand. “So, not outside?”

“Not a chance.”

While I’m staring at Leif, Brewer is studying me. “What are some of these risk factors of the outdoors I’m not aware of? You know, just in case I should move my other potted plants inside.”

“Uh, acid rain, a tornado, hail storm, lightning strike, a swarm of locusts? The list of possibilities is endless.”

“Uh huh. I see.” He goes silent, and I assume he’s looking over his menu. “Nash?”

I look up to meet his gaze, and his face is soft, a warm smile teases his lips. His expression is full of affection. For me.

“I’m rooting for you, and the plant.”

Fuck me sideways, he might as well tell me he wants to date me and my limp dick and my messed up head. “Leif.”

“I’m rooting for you and Leif. And Valor, of course. You’ve taken on a lot of responsibility in a short amount of time, but it doesn’t surprise me in the least. It’s who you are. A soldier, a Sergeant, a leader. A hero. I think you’ll do fine.”

I’m definitely no hero, but Brewer can think what he wants. He’ll never be wrong in my book.

“So, let’s talk about the second step,” he says, looking over his menu. “This step is all about handing over the reins. In step one, we admitted we were powerless and that our lives had become unmanageable. That can leave a lot of people searching for answers or feel like floundering fish. If we aren’t in control, who is? The second step is about restoring hope. Someone is looking out for us and has brought us this far, and we have to believe they won’t fail us now. You need to determine who that is for you. There are no wrong answers, but I want you to dig deep and keep an open mind.”

He chuckles when I sigh dramatically, like I’m already exhausted from just hearing his talk about finding God, let alone actually having to do it.

“Can’t we skip this step for now and circle back to it later?” Or never?

“No, nice try.” Our waiter approaches, and Brewer places his order. “I’ll have the turkey club, side of fries, and a glass of water, please. And he’ll have the vegetable soup and the tuna fish salad. Thanks.”

The longer I stare, the wider my smile grows, until it stretches from cheek to cheek. Brewer catches my grin, and his eyes grow wide. “Oh, jeez, I didn’t mean to order for you, it just slipped out…because I know with your stomach, and the meds… I’m so sorry! Did you want something else?”

I’d eat liver pâté if he ordered it for me, just because I like his caretaking and ownership of me. But, “Tuna fish salad?” I ask, wondering where that came from?

Brewer looks chagrined. “In case Valor wakes up.”

My heart. My motherfucking heart. It’s melting. “Good call.”

My head is a loud and foreign place.

Like standing in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by hundreds of people all talking at once. Their voices blend together in a deafening cacophony of sound, drowning out my own thoughts, until I can’t hear or even think. That’s what I hear most of the time, but when things get dark for me, the voices become angrier. Louder. The staccato ricochet of a gun firing. Men yelling. The earth-shattering blast of a bomb exploding. Soldiers shouting in Pashto, shoving the barrels of their guns in my face, in my back. Roaring helicopter blades whirring like a million buzzing bees swarming.

Among the recent memories, pieces of my past sneak through, until I can’t separate past from present, or reality from delusion. Fragments of conversation with other soldiers. A movie I watched years ago. Celebrating Christmas with my family when I was a child. I just want to escape for a few moments. Precious minutes of silence where nothing exists but the sound of my heart beating, the easy in and out of my breathing, feeling my chest and lungs expand with breath and with life.

Solitude. I want solitude. Nothing inside my head or outside my body. I want to disappear.

As I cower in the corner of my darkened bedroom, with Valor licking my bare toes, I try to block it all out, the nightmare that woke me, the memories that bombard me, the noise in my head. I try to let go of all of it, surrendering to the chaos, surrendering to the broken mess in my head.

I don’t want to feel anymore. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired. Tired and empty. If only I could lose myself in the bottom of a bottle tonight or pop a couple of pills to put me back to sleep. Unfortunately, none of those options are available to me anymore. If I want to forget, I’ll have to do it the hard way. The healthier way.

I can hear Brewer’s voice in my head. “Hand over the reins. Admit you’re powerless.” I’m a floundering fish searching for answers. Who is in control if not me? Who do I pray to to restore me to sanity?

Right now, I’ll pray to anyone to find sanity. Donald Duck, the neighbor’s dog, the fucking washing machine. I just want to feel sane.

Sometimes, I forget what that used to feel like.

When I feel myself beginning to spiral, sometimes I’m afraid that if I give in, I’ll never find my way back. I’ll get lost in the memory and never wake up. It may be an irrational fear, but it’s a very real fear.

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