Page 34 of Nights Without Night
It’s not me who should be going to the V.A. It’s Isadoro.
Still. One step at a time.
**********
The V.A. centre is a nondescript building. It reminds me of a state college, with small staff offices and larger rooms for meetings and group sessions. The carpet is worn, colours monotone and muted, and it smells like stale coffee as I step in. I head straight for the lady behind the windowed reception desk.
“Hi. Uh, I’m here to see Mr. Afif? I have an appointment,” I say.
“Name?”
“Oh, yeah. Iván Ríos-Prado.”
“Okay. Sign in here and take a seat. Mansur will come get you in a bit,” she says. I do and sit down. I look around the waiting room. Camo-green chairs, low tables, pictures of landscapes. I pick up a magazine, flip through it briefly, and then set it back down again. I’m too jittery to even flit blindly through the pages. It feels like I’m betraying Isadoro by being here.
Before my anxiety has a chance to really ramp up, a tall, Asian man comes out.
“Iván Ríos-Prado?” he says.
“Yep.” I get up and walk towards him. He smiles at me and I try to smile back.
“Hello. Follow me and we can get properly introduced,” he says. I nod, and we walk down a hallway and into what looks like a therapist’s office.
It’s demurely decorated, with a desk by the window and some comfortable looking chairs facing each other between that and the door. Mansur sits on one of the chairs and picks up a pad of paper from a coffee table at its side. I sit on the chair opposite him, twisting my fingers in my lap.
“Thanks for seeing me. I know it must be unusual to meet with, you know, not a veteran,” I say awkwardly before he can start.
“Not at all, I meet with loved ones all the time,” he assures me.
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know.” I look at him, a little lost. “Sorry. I’m a little…”
“Don’t worry. This office has seen it all. How about I tell you a little about myself and then you can tell me a little bit about your situation, so we can figure out how our services can help you and your friend. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
“As you know, my name is Mansur Afif. I did three tours in Iraq, from 2003-2007. After a bit of soul-searching when I got back, I got my degree in counselling and have been a counsellor here since 2011. I offer individual and group therapy, as well as advisory assistance, such as connecting people with services that might best fit them, be it for government benefits or other mental health services, as well as meeting with people such as yourself who want to know a little more about what we offer. Am I right in saying you have a friend who qualifies for V.A. services?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he, uh, he got back late 2017. He enlisted in 2010.”
“That’s quite a number of tours.”
“Yeah. Special Ops.”
“That makes sense. How did you meet him?”
“I’ve known him since forever. Since before I can remember.”
“Ah. Childhood friends. Did you keep in touch during his service?”
“Yeah. Phones, Skype…He stayed with me during his leave.”
“It sounds like you’re very close.”
“Yeah. Yeah, he…yeah. We are.”
“Does he have anybody else in his support system?”
“Um…I mean he and my parents are close. They talk on the phone, but my parents live far away and they’re busy with work, so…”
