Page 1 of Human Reclaimed
ONE
TALIA
I pressed a smile onto my face as I handed out another stack of glitter-infused cardstock to the veterans seated around the long table. The recreation room smelled like pine from the small Christmas tree in the corner and peppermint from the cocoa being passed around.
“Remember, folks, these cards mean everything to the troops away from home,” I said, tucking a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. “Trust me. I know from experience.”
Mr. Gunderson looked up at me. “You get any of these cards when you were deployed, Talia?”
The question hit like a punch to the gut. “I did. My friend, Travis, always saved them and had the whole collection taped to his bunk. Said they reminded him what we were fighting for.” My voice caught on his name, and I busied myself straightening the already-neat pile of markers.
Camille swooped in from behind, her dark curls bouncing as she placed her hands on my shoulders. “We’ve got tinsel and those little pom-poms too, if anyone wants to get fancy!” She squeezed my shoulders with subtle reassurance.
The veterans went back to their crafting, conversations flowing around me like water around a stone. I moved between them, helping where needed, but my mind drifted three years back—to snow-capped mountains, to blood on the white ground, to the sound of Travis’s last breath and Meredith’s scream cutting off too suddenly.
“Earth to Talia.” Camille’s voice yanked me back. She’d cornered me by the supply cabinet, her arms crossed. “You’re doing it again.”
I straightened the markers in the tray again. “Doing what?”
“That blank stare. It’s Christmas time, honey. You can’t keep living in that mission.”
“I’m not?—”
“You absolutely are.” She lowered her voice. “Look, the facility Christmas party is next Friday, and Lieutenant Rodriguez from physical therapy has been asking about you.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “So subtle, Cam.”
“I’m just saying, he’s cute, single, and doesn’t talk about military specs during dinner.”
“How would you know what he talks about during dinner?” I grabbed a stack of ribbon spools to distribute.
Camille followed me back toward the table. “Because unlike some people, I actually accept dinner invitations occasionally.”
“I’m not ready for that.” The ribbon spools clacked against each other as I set them down with more force than necessary.
“It’s been three years, Tal.” Her voice softened. “Travis and Meredith wouldn’t want?—”
“Don’t.” I turned to face her, my chest tight. “Just… don’t tell me what they would want.”
Camille’s brown eyes softened. “What I meant was, you deserve some joy in your life. Those getaways you three planned every year… you loved them. Maybe you need to create new traditions.”
“With Lieutenant Rodriguez?” I arched an eyebrow.
“With anyone! With me, with the veterans, or with a damn cat.” She grabbed a piece of red card stock and folded it with sharp, decisive creases. “Sitting alone in your condo drinking bourbon and watching old movies isn’t a Christmas tradition. It’s a depression spiral.”
I looked around at the veterans here at the local veterans’ facility—some missing limbs, some with visible scars, and some with wounds you couldn’t see but were just as deep. Yet here they were, making silly Christmas cards with glitter that would inevitably end up in places glitter had no business being.
“I’ll think about it,” I muttered.
Camille beamed. “That’s all I ask.”
“But I’m not promising to talk to Rodriguez.”
“Fine, fine.” She winked. “I’ll just make sure he’s standing under the mistletoe when you walk into the Christmas party.”
I turned to help Mr. Abernathy find the blue marker he’d dropped, grateful for the distraction. The truth was, I couldn’t imagine sharing my life with anyone but my best friends, Travis and Meredith. How could I explain to anyone else what I’d lived through during my fifteen years in the army? The nightmares that still jolted me awake at night?
“I’m just not ready for close friends or a man in my life,” I muttered to myself. “Maybe I never will be.”
