Page 58 of One More Chance

We survey the area, try to determine who’s doing the shooting: our side or theirs. The rotting smell of fear and regret battles in the air. I fight to fill my lungs with the memories of back home, of the clean mountain air. Of the taste of freedom and of hope.

The dust settles, the wind retreating a step. But the boy is no longer standing where we left him. He’s slouched on the ground, bleeding out.

Aiden yells something and staggers to his feet. I’m right behind him.

And that’s when everything goes to hell.

My legs collapse under me as I return to the present. I land on my knees, struggling to pull air into my chest.

Breathe. It’s not that hard to do. Breathe in and breathe out. I repeat the mantra in my head again and again, but it’s not working. I’m trapped in a haboob, the Afghan dust rushing into my lungs, squeezing out the last drop of oxygen. My pulse thrums loud and fast in my ears.

Simone calls my name. Her voice sounds far away. Faint and unclear. A spicy aroma hints I’m no longer in Afghanistan. That what I experienced isn’t real. Or what I think I experienced. The last few moments are becoming foggy.

A steadying hand rests on my lower back. Tenderly draws circles. I focus on that. Focus on the way it feels.

Heat sinks into my icy body, thawing me from the inside.

“You’re okay, Lucas. You’re safe. Listen to me. You’re safe.” With each word, Simone’s voice grows stronger, clearer. With each word, it becomes easier to breathe.

She repeats them until I can finally nod, letting her know I’m okay now.

I take a deep breath and stand.

Simone’s hands remain on me, ensuring I don’t collapse into a pile of debris. My body trembles and sweat soaks my T-shirt. Disgust rockets through me at her seeing me like this. Chipped. Cracked.

“What happened?” she asks.

I can feel her eyes trying to catch mine, but I can’t bear to look at her. Can’t bear to have her see the slashes on my soul. I shake my head, unable to answer.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I say after a moment. My voice is gruff, short-fused; I barely recognize it.

In the bathroom, I strip out of my clothes and step into the hot shower. My body’s still trembling, and I have to fold my arms on the cold tiles to steady myself.

I rest my brow on my forearms and let the water sluice over me. During the lowest of low months of struggling with PTSD, I’d locked the memories of that day in a metal box to be sunk in the deepest ocean. In time, my therapist had me face them. In time, the flashbacks’ control over me lessened.

Until one day they didn’t come as frequently.

But there are times when I can’t escape them. When they come out of nowhere. Thank Christ those times have faded to far and few between.

I remain leaning against the shower wall until the tremors finally subside, until the water shifts from hot to warm and threatens to turn cold.

I turn the shower off and walk ass-naked into my bedroom to change into clean clothes.

When I return to the kitchen, Simone is stirring the food in the saucepan. I walk to the pantry, pull out the bottle of whiskey I’ve stashed there for moments like this, and pour myself a glass, neat.

Simone doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she has questions. The need to know what happened is in her eyes, is on her face.

I toss back the drink and give it a second to heat my veins from within.

When I first returned to the U.S. after I was wounded, I sunk into a world of alcohol to drown out my horror-filled memories.

But it had only been a temporary fix. A fix that pulled me farther into hell. With each bad memory I blocked out, the good ones were also locked away. My friends. My family. Simone.

Eventually, it became impossible to hide how much I was struggling. My parents helped me reach out to the Veterans Center, who in turn assisted me in straightening my life out and quitting my addiction. I’ve been lucky. Alcohol doesn’t control me. I can drink it without being dragged down that hole again.

I place the empty glass in the sink.

Jasper drops his squeaky toy by my feet. I crouch and pet his silky fur.

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