Page 39 of The Hometown Legend

“Maybe I deserve to be alone.”

“Then why did you come back? I can’t figure that out.”

“Because I... Because I don’t think I want to die,” he said finally. “And I think if I’d stayed away, I would have.”

The words were like a knife beneath her skin.

“Gideon...”

“I’m sorry.” He looked tortured then. She hadn’t fully understood. She wasn’t sure she did now, but she wanted to. “I don’t... Don’t repeat that to Lydia. Please.”

“Are you okay? I... I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’m not suicidal, Rory. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“You did.”

“How come it hasn’t occurred to anybody that maybe I was protecting them from the reality of the last few years? You all think... You all think that I just got better. And I chose not to speak to anybody. That I chose to... What? Get divorced? No. It’s a...”

“What is it?”

He looked at her, and she could see that he was at a loss. That he wasn’t sure what to say. If he should say something at all.

“I won’t tell anybody. Why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t like talking about it.”

“What good has that done?” she asked.

“Come in.”

GIDEONWASN’TSUREwhat he was doing, inviting Rory in like that. Because he hadn’t talked to anybody about this. Because he hadn’t been honest with his mom and sister about the extent of his traumatic brain injury. And he sure as hell hadn’t told anybody what had happened after. And thank God, Cassidy hadn’t, either. He didn’t know if it was because she was protective of him, or of that image.

He could see it in Lydia’s eyes, too. He had yesterday at the parade. She’d been embarrassed. That he couldn’t be himself. That he couldn’t put on the show that she wished he would. And he was embarrassed, too. He understood that. But Rory was... Well. She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t his sister. His mother. And she was here.

Today had just been a shit show. He had been the worst version of himself with every single person he had interacted with and he had continued it with Rory. He had driven down that highway hoping to find a piece of himself, and it was like grabbing at a shaft of light. He couldn’t hold it. He could just stand in it for a moment, trying to get some of the warmth reflected down into his bones. But he didn’t feel it. She was right. He had come back here, and now he acted like he didn’t want anyone around. But the truth was part of him had hoped being back here would lock something into place that was missing, and that hadn’t happened. He was grieving that, maybe.

But the man he was searching for, the man he used to be, was dead.

He wasn’t going to be able to get him back.

Rory sat perched on one of the stools next to the kitchen counter, and he stood back on the other side of the island, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed.

“How annoyed was Lydia that I didn’t appreciate the parade?”

She shifted. “I don’t think she was annoyed with you. I think she was sad you couldn’t enjoy it. Does that make sense?”

He lifted a shoulder.

“I should appreciate the gesture. Once upon a time, I would’ve appreciated the glory.” He shook his head. “I miss caring about that. Sometimes. It made life easy. You need a hit, you go do something that impresses people. And now I just... I don’t give a damn. I don’t know where that went. I don’t know if that explosion blew it right out of me, if it made me realize that real glory has too high a price, or if... Or if it just feels shitty when there were only two of you that lived through that explosion, and everybody else’s Purple Hearts came back with a casket. And you just know... All you had to do was stand just a little to the left because that’s where my friend was, who isn’t here now. There’s no glory in being lucky. And there’s no sense in it, either. While I deserve a parade.”

“Maybe they got parades, too.” She looked hopeful, and he almost felt bad telling her the truth.

“They call that a funeral procession, Rory. That’s what it is.”

“Sorry. I... I spoke out of turn.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said, his voice getting hard. “I can’t fucking stand people being so careful around me. It’s either all this bullshit hero’s welcome nonsense or people acting like I’m a grenade with the pin pulled out, and if they make a wrong step, I’m going to explode on them, and I’m sick to death of it.” He put his head in his hands, just for a moment. “I’m sick to death of it being true.”

---