Page 20 of Falling for my First Crush

“That’s sweet,” Maia says. I can’t tell if she means it or if she’s being sarcastic. Her tone is flat, so at the very least, I can tell that she’s irritated with me. Probably from ruining her night of introducing us to her boyfriend. Ugh. I should tell her that Julius doesn’t even seem like that nice of a guy.

“Maybe there is more that we could be doing,” Gianna says. “We should all come up with things that we think would bring more connection with Sabina. Like maybe I could take her out for coffee after her appointments one day. Things like that.”

“Are we going to make a list?” Maia asks, more receptive now.

“We could,” Gianna says. “But I don’t really think it’s necessary. I think it should be more spontaneous than that. If you see an avenue for connection, take it. And we should keep communicating about all of this.”

We talk for a little longer. No one brings up Joe and his bad behavior again. When we finish brainstorming about Sabina, it feels good to know that we’ve at least started to address the issue. Even though I don’t feel like we have a huge plan, at least I feel more confident now knowing that we are going to work together more intentionally. I truly believe that we can help her far better together than we can alone.

Twelve

JOE

I’m still trying to figure out how to make things right with Jackie and the rest of the Moretti family. I apologized to Julius at the station the other day. We told the guys what happened, and they thought my behavior was hilarious. That helped ease the tension between us enough that it seemingly disappeared. I still don’t like the guy, but outwardly I can be civil.

The hospital looms over me. My volunteer shift starts in half an hour, and I have to admit that I’m pretty nervous about it. Giving back to other veterans is something that has been on my heart for a long time. I know that I’ve been lucky to have gotten to where I am without too much trauma. I have had therapy, but it was my mentors that really got me through the toughest times.

Taking the elevator up to the floor housing the Wounded Veteran program, I try to keep my thoughts away from being nervous, and instead I focus on the help that I can give to people. I’m still preoccupied with my thoughts when the elevator doors open. I step off and nearly run right into Jackie. I’m thrilled to see her, because now I can apologize in person. I’m about to open my mouth, when I realize that she’s crying.

“Jackie, what’s wrong?” I ask, alarmed and concerned.

“Joe?” she says, looking up at me and blinking through her tears. “What are you doing here?”

She sounds angry, and I don’t blame her after my performance at her house last weekend. But she doesn’t seem to stay angry. Instead she wraps her arms around herself, and sags back against the wall.

I lean against the wall beside her. “I’m here for my volunteer session. Are you okay?”

Jackie shakes her head. “I just dropped Sabina off for some of her appointments today, and we found out that one of her friends took her own life. I’m just so scared about what this will do to Sabina’s mental health.”

Her tears start to flow again, as I process the information. I swear softly. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “At least Sabina found out here, where she can get help and support.”

Jackie nods and swipes at her cheeks. “I know, but she’s struggling so much more than I realized she was. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t want to lose her more than we already have.”

She sounds so broken, that I want to fix it somehow. There isn’t much that I can say. I know personally that there are things that Sabina experienced that civilians won’t ever be able to understand.

“Sabina says that they are helping her here,” Jackie says. “But I can tell that it isn’t enough. Talking to her at home, I can tell.”

I can feel the heaviness of her emotions. I know them well. And I have experienced them on both sides. I know what Sabina is feeling, to some extent. Sometimes when you come home from combat, there are just some things that you can’t explain to civilians. Tack on a POW experience and whew… even other vets might not know what you’ve experienced. That’s why one of the first things I did when I got home was find a good therapist that specialized in helping vets with trauma.

On the other side of that is all the friends I’ve listened to, supported, and walked with through their own trauma. It’s awful knowing that there’s nothing I can do to ‘fix it’; but I’ve learned that often, just being present and willing to listen can be a big part of the healing process. That brings me some comfort and relief.

Now I say, “You are there for her, Jack, and that’s a lot.”

Jackie looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. My heart clenches in my chest, and without thinking I reach out and pull her into a hug. She tenses up for a moment, but then melts into my body. We stand there for a moment, before she steps back. She takes a deep breath, and swipes at her damp cheeks.

“Thanks, Joe,” she says. “And sorry about… this. I can’t handle the thought of Sabina not being here, you know?”

The thought is sobering, and I don’t know how to respond. But I nod in understanding, knowing that feeling all too well. I have lost enough friends to know the fear she is feeling all too well. It starts as a tightness in your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body, paralyzing you with fear. There isn’t anything that can remedy the feeling once it begins.

“Jackie, you have nothing to apologize for. What did the people at the program tell you?” I ask.

Jackie wipes her eyes again, and shrugs. “Not much. Due to confidentiality reasons. I get it. I really do. I work here,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t frustrate me. They are the only people who are talking to her, who have a handle on her mental health. She doesn’t share anything with us at home, but when she does, I feel like we don’t know what to do with the information. We are failing her.”

“You aren’t failing her,” I say quickly. “You aren’t. I know it feels that way, but you are showing up for her, just by being there. That’s important.”

Fresh tears start to snake down Jackie’s cheeks. She doesn’t brush them away. In fact, I’m not sure she even knows that she’s crying again. I’m not sure what to do. Should I hug her again? She has her arms wrapped around herself like she’s hugging herself. She looks small and sad, and it’s breaking my heart. It feels wrong that I’m just standing here, while she looks so miserable.

“Maybe there is something we could do to help her,” I say, grasping to fix things for her, even if just for a moment.

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