Page 91 of All Along

I drop my purse and shrug out of my coat before marching to the couch. I pick up the potato chip bags and the pizza box and carry them to the kitchen. I return with a glass of water and a cloth to clean the table.

“Here.” I shove the glass into Caleb’s hands. “If you don’t want a hangover, drink this.”

“Don’t give a shit if I have a hangover. My life is over.”

“Your life is over? What happened?”

“Some asshole shot the shit out of my leg while I was trying to escape with my squad.”

I drop the cleaning supplies and plop down on the sofa across from Caleb. “This is not new information. Why is your life over now?”

“My days of being a soldier are done.”

I’m confused. Is this news to him? He’s lucky he survived his injury. A few inches to the left and the bullet would have hit his femoral artery. He would have bled out.

It’s possible I spent way too much time obsessing over and googling bullet wounds today. I’m probably on some Internet watchlist now.

“I thought you were retired.”

“I’m not retired. I’m on convalescent leave.”

He is? I’m starting to realize I don’t know Caleb’s situation as well as I should. Why am I surprised? He wouldn’t tell me about his injury until yesterday. He literally said I love you before he allowed me to see his leg.

“And you’re going back to active duty?”

“Are you not fucking listening to me? I can’t go back on active duty.”

I flinch at his angry tone. Caleb can lose his temper but he’s never been nasty to me before.

He takes another swig from the moonshine. The bottle is half empty. Did he drink half the bottle? This is not a good sign. Caleb isn’t a drinker. A beer here and there but nothing more. Usually.

“Why can’t you go back on active duty?”

“I told you. Some asshole shot me.”

I inhale a deep breath before I lash out at him. One of us being angry is enough.

“Before today, you thought you were going back on active duty. What happened today?”

“I realized I’m a fucking cripple who will never pass the Army medical board.”

“You’re not a cripple.”

He sneers at me. “Did you miss me sprawled out on the floor of the restroom yesterday?”

“It was a setback. There are always setbacks when you’re recovering from an injury.”

“Oh yeah?” He sips from the bottle. “What do you know about it?”

I start to tell him how I’ve been researching injuries but he continues before I have the chance.

“You’re just a little mouse who’s never gone anywhere and done anything. You’ve probably never traveled outside of the U.S.”

As a matter of fact, I’ve been to Mexico for spring break but I don’t answer him. He’s on a tirade now. I know better than to interrupt someone mid tirade.

“You have no idea what it’s like to face an enemy. To not know if you’re going to live to fight another day. To watch people die. To lose friends, brothers really. You have no idea.”

“No, I don’t.”

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