Page 40 of Loving London

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, including myself.”

“I know, but it’s not uncommon, Loïc. If you felt like you might, it would be okay. No one would judge you.”

“I’m not suicidal,” I state clearly as I pull the plastic sleeve of my prosthetic leg over my stump.

“Okay.” She smiles, placing her hand on my shoulder and supplying a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to throw my hair up and get dressed. Then, I’ll be out in the living room when you’re ready to go.”

I nod once, and she exits my room.

I don’t know exactly what to expect out of today, but this is the most hopeful I’ve felt in a while.

Everything that my therapists told me when I was recovering both in Germany and Washington, DC, is coming back now. For whatever reason, possibly my own stubborn nature or perhaps due to the amount of darkness that had already grabbed hold of me, I couldn’t hear their words then. I couldn’t listen.

Now, I’m ready. I’ve found the strength to fight for myself. I’m a damaged man, no doubt. Maybe I’ll never be the person I was before this last tour in Afghanistan, but I have to try.

I have to put in the work to heal my mind so that I can function. Not a day goes by when I don’t wish that Cooper were here and not me. But that’s simply not the reality of it. He’s gone, and for some reason, I’m not.

And, though it will be difficult, I need to learn how to show up and be present.

It’s time I fight to live.

London

“It’s not the kiss I crave but the soul connected to it.”

—London Wright

A miscalculated flick of my paintbrush against the wall sends a firestorm of gray droplets toward my face. “Kate!” I whine to my roommate.

She takes one look at my speckled face and bursts into laughter.

“It’s not funny. This’d better come out of my hair,” I grumble.

“Oh, bless your heart.” She shakes her head from side to side, a giant smile on her face.

“Um, isn’t that the equivalent of saying,Fuck you, or something in the South?” I ask, quirking up an eyebrow in question.

“It can be. Just depends on the manner in which it’s said. I didn’t mean it that way, of course. I meant it literally because you, London, are just the cutest. I’ve never met someone quite like you.” She chuckles to herself and continues painting.

“I really think that we should’ve paid someone to do this. I’ve never painted a thing in my life.” I set my brush in the bucket and walk over to the kitchen to grab a paper towel.

“Exactly. You came to LA for a new life, for new experiences. It’s time you step out of your comfort zone and try new things,” Kate says.

After quickly running the paper towel under the water, I drag the damp paper across my paint-splattered face. “But I am getting lots of new experiences in. I don’t think that painting an entire apartment needs to be one of them.”

“You said that you wanted to be independent. Independent people paint their own walls, London.”

“I don’t necessarily agree with that. Why are there so many painters then?” I don’t wait for Kate to respond, so I continue, “Because tons of people hire them to paint; that’s why. I wasn’t going to use my trust fund. I was going to use the money I’ve made on my own. That’s being grown-up. There is nothing wrong with hiring someone to help with things that I know I’m not good at. Plus, it’s good for the economy. How are painters supposed to feed their families if everyone does their own painting?” I send Kate a pointed look.

“You can argue your case; I’ll give ya that. But you told me to help you be independent, and that is what I’m doing. You should have to paint your own place at least once. Consider it a rite of passage. Plus, we’re on the last room. At this point, you just need to suck it up, buttercup.”

“Huh,” I huff as I grab my paintbrush from the can of paint. I continue painting over the bright yellow walls of the living room. “Who lived here before you anyway? A circus clown?”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was sure had interesting taste.” Kate giggles.

“Part of me thought it would be funny to leave it the way it was for Paige to see. But I think I’m more excited for her to see the finished look.”

Paige is coming to visit next weekend, and Kate and I have been getting our apartment ready for company, decorating it to our tastes. Kate took me on an adventure known as thrift-store shopping. I’ve never purchased anything from a secondhand store, but last weekend’s shopping extravaganza was so much fun. It’s amazing what one can find at those places. We found treasures, like a ceramic elephant playing the clarinet and a coatrack shaped like a naked woman—both of which, we did not buy. We did buy a gorgeous aqua blown-glass vase and an antique apothecary table though.

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