Page 32 of Love Takes Home

I wait until she sees the couch before I move. “Are you fucking for real? You have a Tiny couch! I wish I had known this two months ago. I’d have moved onto it instead of where I am!”

I smile, leaving her to her love affair with a couch. I probably shouldn’t be jealous about a piece of furniture, should I?

“Beer, water, or Diet Coke?” I call out from the kitchen, watching her pet the couch.

Yeah, fuck it. I’m jealous of a damn couch.

“Water’s good, thanks.”

I bring us both a bottle of water and sit on the other side of the couch, giving her space. She downs half of it before turning to me.

“Thank you. For the ride, for letting me hang out here for a while. I couldn’t imagine going home to my mother right now. She’d probably give me a timed journal writing assignment to ‘get my feelings out’ or some bullshit like that.”

“You know it’s because she’s worried about you.”

“I do. And I appreciate it. But sometimes I don’t want to get my feelings out. I want to sit with them and feel whatever the hell it is I want to feel for a little while.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. One of the doctors I saw after my last tour said basically the same thing. Sometimes to get over something, you have to go through it.”

“Was it bad? What you went through?”

“The Army was my life. And for ten years, I dedicated my soul to it. But at some point, my soul was empty, and I had nothing more to give. The last…job. It was too much. Too bad. And I knew if I had to live in that place any longer, I would lose whatever was left of me. I was already a shell of a man. I had stopped seeing reality. I had a complete mental break, and luckily, one of my men saw what was happening and made the call to pull me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was so fucking mad at him. I didn’t know who I was anymore if I wasn’t the job. I didn’t remember what a real bed felt like, or a hot shower. Pizza. Everything was sand and darkness and blood.”

I look at Ginny, ready for the look of pity, but it’s not there. She’s watching me, listening to what I’m saying, but she’s not judging me. The only thing I see in her eyes is care.

“That’s how you knew what I meant when I said I can’t breathe.”

“Been there, Beautiful.”

She lowers her eyes at the name, just as she always does. I wonder if she’s even aware of it.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me that?”

“Because you are. Beautiful.”

“I wish you wouldn’t lie.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Joker. I know you are. I know I’m not beautiful. And I figured that out a long time ago.”

Sighing, I stand from the couch. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

She snaps her head up, a look of worry and maybe some fear on her face.

“Ginny, I’ll never hurt you. But I need you to see something.”

She tentatively takes my hand, and I help her up off the couch, pulling her along behind me into my bedroom and finally into the bathroom. I close the door and turn her to face the floor-length mirror.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly, staring at me through the reflection.

---