Page 39 of Hot Doggin'
“Anyway,” Nash continues, “Brewer says it can be whatever works for me, but not to let my anger and resentment cloud my thinking. Am I letting the chip on my shoulder keep me from turning to Him instead of the ghost of my best friend? Does it even make a difference? I don’t fucking know. I’m working on it, though, and searching for answers.”
“Glad to hear it,” Riggs adds. “Mandy?”
Mandy stares down at his lap and mumbles, “You all know I had a Code Black the other day. Veteran’s Day is always hard for me.” He’s quiet again for a minute, fingers tangled in his yarn. “This yarn is mocking me. It'smockingme. I feel like I’m trying to untangle a C4 fuse, except there’s no explosion at the end. Just…more yarn.”
The burns that cover Mandy’s face and skin show a small glimpse into his past and the pain he’s endured. He stops fighting to untangle his knotted ball of yarn, and he gets lost in his head, in the memories that haunt him.
Mandy continues. “This yarn's a lot like life, right? You think you’ve got it all straight, and then—bam—a knot. But you untangle it, one loop at a time.” He pauses and takes a deep, slow breath before blowing it out. A man whose sole purpose in life was to make things explode, now staring at a ball of yarn like it’s a live grenade. His hands—normally used to diffusing and minimizing damage—are awkwardly fumbling with needles likehe’s never held one before... “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I will destroy this yarn if it’s the last thing I do,” he growls.
Rhett covers Mandy’s hand with his own and gives him a small smile. “Just talk it out, Mandy. We’re listening.”
“I’m sorry.” Mandy pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s searching for patience or courage, or whatever he needs to get through this. “I meant, I’ll fix this yarn. I’m done destroying things. It solves nothing and only destroys the destroyer. I don’t want to celebrate Veteran’s Day or Memorial Day. That’s every day for me. All I needed was a little peace and quiet, but what I got instead was a small, sassy Texan and a bunch of Bitches. And you know what? I couldn’t be more grateful.” Mandy squeezes Rhett’s hand and my heart clinches tight. While my buddy was suffering his demons, I was lip-locked with my best friend. “I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Bullshit,” I cough. “We always worry. That’s what Bitches do.”
Mac nods in agreement and lays his knitting on his lap. “I’m learning that not all… all… hot dogs… fit in traditional buns. Sometimes you can wrap your dog in a slice of bread, or a tortilla. Pita bread works good, too. I guess you can use lettuce if you’re trying to cut carbs, but I don’t recommend it.”
Christ, here we go. He’s gonna spill the proverbial baked beans. West looks at Mac like he’s lost his mind and blurts, “The fuck are you talking about? Stiles, come get your boy, he’s gone around the bend again.”
Laughing, I explain, “I think what he’s trying to say is that people come in all shapes and sizes, and people change. What you’re used to isn’t always what you get. Is that right, Mac?”
“Right,” Mac confirms. “I’m saying I want to toss my old stale buns and try Pita bread. It’s like a warm pocket with a nice tight fit that hugs your meat.”
West shakes his head. “What the fuck ever, man. Try any kind of bread you want. Whatever makes you happy.”
Brandt’s brow furrows. “Are we still talking about bread?”
For the rest of the hour, the scars of war are replaced by the therapeutic rhythm of needles clicking together.
As the group continues knitting, swapping war stories that have nothing to do with guns and bloodshed and everything to do with emotional scars, I realize that we’re not just warriors—we’re healers, knitting together the loose ends of our lives.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
MCCORMICK
Thick hot steamchokes me as I push my way into the bathroom. I push aside Stiles’s electric razor and toothbrush and hop up on the counter.
He tugs aside the curtain to glare at me. “Do you mind?”
Damn right I don’t. “We need to talk about the other day.”
“It can wait until I’m done,” he snaps, yanking the curtain back in place.
“No, it can’t. This is the perfect time. I have your undivided attention.”I really need to clean this mirror. It’s covered in toothpaste splatter.
“You’ve got more than that. Go on,” he sighs, “get it out.”
“Okay, so the other night. It was… I mean, it felt… We’re just…”
Stiles laughs. “I can see you really thought this through.”
“It didn’t mean anything, right? We’re still just friends.”
“Right,” Stiles agrees. “Just friends.”
“And I mean, it felt alright, didn’t it?”
