Page 99 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-three

 

“I CAN’T FUCKING do it. I can’t do it!”  Brandon’s yelling and screaming pulled me out of a deep sleep that I was frankly shocked I’d fallen into.  We’d arrived in South Carolina after dark the night before and decided to have some dinner and find a motel.  We were about an hour away from where the veterans’ hospital was supposedly located, so we decided to get an early start the next morning and, if we had all the answers we needed, we could be back on the road that next evening.

The proximity to the place, coupled with how heavily it had been weighing on his mind, had seemed to push Brandon over the edge.  He’d been shaky and nervous the night before at dinner and I should have expected that it would disturb his sleep, but I hadn’t anticipated it.

I sat up and spoke his name as softly as I could after turning the lamp on until he opened his eyes.  His pupils were dilated, his general mood agitated, and he acted like he didn’t recognize me.  We’d been here before, and it wasn’t always safe.  “Brandon, do you know where you are?”

He blinked several times while sitting up straight, in a panic over some perceived threat, it seemed.  He started to answer more than once, but then he paused and searched my eyes before finally answering.  “Sorry, Kimberly.  That seemed so real.  It’s like—it’s like my mind’s already back here.”

It was moments like these that convinced me Brandon was telling the truth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His breathing was still deep and rapid, as if he’d been jogging.  After a few seconds, he said, “No.”

But it was answers like those that made me convinced Brandon wasn’t telling me thewholetruth.  And I hoped to find out what the hell he was hiding from me…in just a few short hours.  After he calmed down and drifted back to sleep for another hour before the sun came out, I lay awake, wondering if I should be scared.

Wondering what was to come.

The next morning, we found an International House of Pancakes and sat down for breakfast before setting out to locate the source of Brandon’s pain, but he only picked at his eggs.  I could tell he was anxious and possibly second guessing himself at this point, but I knew now it needed to be done.

For several reasons.

Brandon, perhaps, needed to confront his past so he could move on.  If all he’d said was true, he was missing so much, had lost so many memories that maybe coming face to face with all he’d left behind would fill in the missing pieces.  And, for me, I needed to confirm that Brandon—the man I’d fallen in love with—was real, not some fictitious character made up for some nefarious and inexplicable reason I had yet to understand.

Watching him suffer as he guzzled down coffee made me question my own motives and reasons for coming here.  Had I pushed him into it?  Was this really a mutual agreement?

We were already here, though, and I had to hope and pray it would lead to resolution—or, at least, answers.

I wasn’t making it through my food very easily, either, but I was forcing down at least half my pancakes.  I didn’t need to be distracted by an empty stomach.  I started thinking about Annabel and JR and sent my daughter a text, knowing that by now she and her brother, located two time zones away, would be out of bed, just letting her know I was thinking of them and loved them.  My thoughts were still on them when Brandon said, “There’s probably something I should tell you.”

The tone of his voice sent a chill down the center of my back but I forced myself to stay calm and neutral on the outside.  “What?”

He was clenching his jaw, one brow hulking over an eye while he pondered his words.  Finally, he said, “Gabe and I were friends.”

I nodded.  “Yes…”

“But there’s something I haven’t told you.”  I resisted the urge to interject anything.  Patience was key, because I could tell he was already uneasy about whatever it was he felt he needed to say.  And why was he bringing up my son right now?  I hadn’t been prepared to deal with the memory of him just now; I had too many other things on my mind.  So I set my fork down and concentrated on keeping my breathing calm.  “I was his commanding officer.”

“Okay.”  I didn’t understand why that was so important.

“A lot of what he did was because of me.”

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I again said, “Okay.”  Why did I feel like the floor was about to disappear from underneath me?

“Including entering the program.”

The program. The program.  The fucking program.  Was it even real?  Was I going to find out Brandon was insane and most of this shit was made up?  And how should I even respond?  Could I say something that wouldn’t give away everything I was thinking?  I touched the side of my coffee cup before I said, “Did he have any say in the matter?”

“Well…yeah.”

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