Page 4 of Strength of the Mountain
“I feel that way all the time,” one of the older men says. “Couldn’t put it into words, but that’s exactly what it is. I feel empty.”
Hearing someone empathize and even relate to what I said loosens the grip of panic, urging me to run right out of this room and hide. The man doesn’t have any answers, but that’s just as well. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear any solutions. It’s enough to be heard and understood.
“Thank you for trusting us with your pain,” Allen, the group therapist, says. I nod and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I didn’t think of it as trust, but he’s right. I feel raw and vulnerable, but not judged or belittled. “Each person in this room has the option to start new every single day. You won’t find your identity immediately, but you can start by rebuilding relationships. Find hobbies. Seek joy and safety. That’s what most of us who have come back from combat are lacking.”
I let his words sink in, not sure what to do with them. I’ve been stuck in the past for so long, I never took the time to consider the future.What future?My unhelpful inner monologue chimes in.And why would it matter? So manyothers died, why did I survive? Why should I get to have a joyful and safe life when theirs ended so horrifically?
Images of my final day as a soldier crawl into my consciousness from the dark corners of my mind. A flash of light. A thundering explosion that rendered me almost deaf for several minutes. Blood, dirt, scorching heat. Helplessness. Trapped. Suffocating…
Another image is conjured up in my mind, expanding and pushing out the negative thoughts.Cami.Her kind, curious hazel eyes and warm smile fill my vision, soothing the jagged pieces of whatever’s left of my soul. Her hand reaches out to me, pulling me from the depths of my most shameful memories.
“That’s all the time we have for today. Good session, everyone,” Allen announces.
I jump from my seat, exhausted and ready to be alone in my own space after spilling my deepest fear to a group of near-strangers. A few people shake my hand and thank me for sharing, which is a strange, new feeling. I thought I’d be villainized or worse, pitied. Instead, I’ve found people who accept me.
Eventually, I make it outside, where I gulp down the fresh, crisp air. The cool breeze feels incredible on my heated skin, allowing my heart to slow down with each calming breath. As freeing as it was to share in group today, I’m absolutely exhausted. I feel beat up and like I could curl up in bed and sleep for days. Who knew working on your mental health would take a physical toll on your body, too?
As much as my feet are itching to carry me to my truck so I can start my hibernation, I know I have to stay and make sure Cami gets to her car safely. I don’t think I can face her right now, but I can watch from a distance.
No sooner do I think the words than the woman herself appears. I tuck myself behind the corner of the building, using the cover of bushes to hide.
Cami is wearing black leggings with bright, neon pink, green, and blue stars printed on the fabric. Her jacket is purple with light blue trim that matches her stocking cap. She looks like a colorful dessert, so sweet and tempting.
My fists clench and unclench at my sides as I resist the urge to scoop her up and take her somewhere private where I’d strip her down and…
So inappropriate, I scold myself. I may have been obsessing over her and her insightful question for the last week, but that doesn’t mean she even remembers me.
“Are you there, Hayden?” Cami asks, peering over one shoulder and then the other. “Helloooo? Where is my guardian angel?”
Stick to the plan. Stay in the shadows. I’m no good for her. Talking to her now will only give me false hope.
“Hm. Or is someone else here?” she questions out loud.
Well, shit. I don’t want her to think she has a stalker or make her anxious in any way. I brace myself for being in her intoxicating presence, reminding myself to keep myself under control.
I step out from my hiding spot and am greeted with bright, sparkling greenish-brown eyes and the kind of sweet, heartfelt smile that belongs in a romance movie. She looks genuinely happy to see me, almost like she’s been waiting her whole life for me to come along.
Seek joy and safety. Allen’s parting words from earlier come floating back to me, and I’m hit square in the chest with a realization I’m not sure what to do with. Cami makes me feel… Well, that’s the thing; she makes me feel. I’ve been numb for so long, shutting everything and everyone out. Yet, here she is,this kind, sweet, innocent woman sharing her joy with me and creating safe spaces for everyone around her. How could I not be drawn to her light?
“There you are! I knew I sensed you.” Her voice is smooth with an edge of excitement. Do I excite her? God knows she’s awakened and excited a certain part of my anatomy for the first time in years, but I would never assume she’d look at me the same way.
“Yeah, I, uh…” God, why am I so awkward? Why can’t I just say what’s on my mind? On second thought, maybe it’s better this way. If I tell her what I’ve really been thinking these last few days, I might scare her away with how obsessed I already am with her.
“Trying to hide from me?” she guesses. Cami doesn’t look upset, simply curious. I love that about her.
She’s not bitter and jaded like I am. Cami looks at the world with an innocence I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced, even before my time in the military. It makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and protect her from anything that threatens to tarnish her outlook on life. She should always be this carefree and curious.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she continues. It’s a miracle my stuttered out, grunted responses haven’t deterred her. As much as I shouldn’t want her, I’m desperate for every life-giving word from her lips.
Jesus, listen to me. I’m so far gone for this woman, it isn’t even funny.
“You’re glad I’m here?” I repeat.
“Absolutely. Here, I made this for you today.” I blink at her, dumbfounded by her gift. She pulls a bracelet made out of colorful thread that’s been knotted together to form a striped pattern. I remember my little sister making similar bracelets when she was a kid, but this one is definitely higher quality andclearly done by a pro. I suppose Cami had had lots of practice in her time volunteering at the community center.
“For me?” I ask. I realize I’m just parroting her words like a fool, but the smile curling the corner of her lips tells me she doesn’t mind.
“You don’t have to wear it or anything. I was just thinking about you, and–”
