Page 24 of For the Love of Scott
He meets Ben’s gaze and then stares down the street. Every house is brick; most of them have covered porches and signs at the end of the walkway or hanging from the porch roof; an old neighborhood gone commercial.
“I really am sorry…” he says yet again. As if saying it over and over will drive home his sincerity. “I freaked out over Sylvester and I took it out on you.”
“No kidding,” Ben says, though not unkindly, stirring the shake. “What I don’t know is why. Is that an explanation you can give me now, boo?”
The use of “boo” gives Scott pause. Ben had called him that the night Sylvester got hurt. When they’d been a couple. How he remembers that detail, he isn’t sure, but what does his use of it now mean? Scott has never had a special endearment all his own. And you don’t call someone by a special name if you don’t still have feelings for that someone.
“Yes,” he answers, and the word comes out more breathless than he would have liked, but it doesn’t matter.
“Okay…good.” Ben sounds surprised.
Jason had finally convinced Scott that whether or not the explanation patched things up between them, Scott needs to tell his story as much as Ben needs to hear it--no matter how hard on Scott it might be. And sooner rather than later. But Ben’s use of “boo” and his whole demeanor seem to indicate that at some point there could be a reconciliation. Scott sends a glance and a thanks skyward.
“Do you want to do that here? Do you want to go to the diner? Do you want go back to my office and order pizza?”
Walking versus going back to Ben’s warm office? His toes are feeling the cold, but otherwise he’s okay, and not being Ben’s sole focus will be easier. “Let’s keep walking.”
“All right.”
They pass a few more houses before Scott takes a deep breath and begins. “I was a military working dog handler in the Army. My dog Hoya and I were sent to Afghanistan. He’d been trained to sniff out bombs.”
Ben’s inhale is audible as he puts the pieces together.
“As I’m sure you just guessed, I lost my leg because of a bomb.” His throat tightens and his nose and eyes prickle again. “I lost Hoya too.”
Ben turns sorrowful eyes on him. “Scott, man…I’m so sorry.”
He nods, unable to say anything. He breathes hard through the urge to turn and run, to hide; he breathes through the rush of embarrassment that washes over him like a freakin’ tidal wave.
Ben walks beside him, not ignoring him, but letting him work through his anxiety without any seeming need to fuss over him or help or any of those things most people try to do. Especially talk.
When Scott can speak again, he says, “Thanks.”
Ben shrugs. “No problem.”
With a hand to his arm, Scott stops him. Despite his outward appearance of calm, concern darkens Ben’s eyes. “No, I mean it. What you did just now, how you reacted. It was…what I needed.”
His features smooth out and a small breath puffs from his mouth. “Good. I didn’t know. I just went with my gut.”
Scott nods. There is a bit more to tell, so he starts walking and Ben falls in step beside him once more. The sun has dropped below the skyline. Darkness slips over them. The streetlights are beginning to flicker and buzz. They round the corner.
“I didn’t know about Hoya until later. The ex…explosion knocked me out, but it killed him instantly. He took the bru—” Scott sucks in a breath, pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to cry again. He’s had over fifteen months of counseling and he wants to cry like a two-year-old. They walk and he breathes. “He took the brunt of the blast. I knew it was a possibility—my death, his death. We talked to counselors all the time, but the reality was…h-h-hard.”
“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” Ben murmurs.
Scott nods his acknowledgment, but then shakes his head. “I, uh, I want you to know. Sylvester’s accident brought everything back to the forefront and Jason, my therapist, says I need to tell someone I trust. That’s you. I’m sorry I’m being such a big ba—”
“Hold the damned phone.” Ben turns flashing eyes on him. “Don’t ever apologize to me for feeling sad or scared or anxious or pissed off about what happened to you or to Hoya, you got me?”
“What?” Scott blinks. Most people think he should just get over it. That it was just a dog, but Hoya had been his pal, his partner, his comrade in arms, and Scott has always felt as if he’d failed him somehow.
“You need to beat the shit out of something, let me know. You need a shoulder to cry on? Call me. You don’t ever have to do this alone, man.”
For Ben to accept the scope of this…Scott is flabbergasted. “I…I just wanted you to know why I freaked out.”
“And now I do. Thanks for the Strawberry Banana Fudge Delight, by the way.”
A snort sends a puff of condensation into the evening air. “You’re welcome.”
