Rather, the normal life of a civilian. And I knew from experience that kind of normal wasn't the same thing to a soldier.
“Not working today?” His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
There was no doubt about the challenge on his face. Crossing his arms like that would be pulling at the tight scar tissue, possibly breaking it. It had to be painful, but he was still doing it. I knew he was waiting to see what I'd say if I reprimand him or if I'd come over and check his bandages.
“Nope.” I shook my head, refusing to play his game.
He'd done it before, in dozens of different ways, like he was trying to create a reason to dislike me. Push me away. It was a common defense mechanism, I knew. And I wasn't going to let him win.
“Why'd you come then?” He stretched his left arm back out.
“I wanted to see you before you left,” I answered honestly. “You have such a charming personality, after all.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't smile or laugh. That wasn't surprising. He hadn't done either as far as I knew, not since arriving here. That little twitch told me he hadn't quite given up all the way. A part of him was still there, and that meant he could still make it.
“Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?” X asked, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. “I'm sure you have better things to do with your time off than spend it at work.”
I ignored his question and his comment. “Is Father O'Toole picking you up?”
X nodded.
I met the priest shortly after he arrived here, and I'd taken an instant liking to him. I'd never had much use for religion, not after what happened to my family, and I found most religious figures to either be so hypocritical I couldn't respect them, or so legalistic that I couldn't understand why anyone would want to be part of something like that. Doron O'Toole, however, was like no one I'd ever met before.
He hadn't shared much about X's past, only that he'd taken X in and had practically adopted him as a son. I'd been curious, of course, about the circumstances that would've brought together someone like X and a priest, but I hadn't pried. I understood that if X wanted me to know any of it, it would have to come from him.
The father's respect of X's privacy had been one of the things that first made me like him. Over the past three months, I'd gotten to know more about him, and everything I learned made me like him more. His faith was genuine, sincere, but he never tried to preach or pressure. He never judged or made me feel like he was criticizing anything about my life. I knew that if I ever wanted to talk to anyone about what happened with my brother and with my parents, I would want to go to him.
“I know Father O'Toole's been staying at Saint Mary's,” I continued, hoping to draw him into a conversation. “Is he planning on getting an apartment or house around here? I could recommend a couple good areas.”
X's eyes flicked up to mine, then away. “We're not staying in Texas.”
My smile stayed on my face even though my stomach twisted. I knew that was a possibility. X and Father O'Toole were from Philadelphia. It only made sense that they would go back. A part of me was hoping against it though.
“Back to Pennsylvania then?” I asked, keeping my voice light.
He gave a curt nod. “He's been away from his parish too long.”
I didn't suggest that X stay here alone. That wouldn't have made any sense. His friend's unit had been sent overseas. While he still had contacts at the base, none were close enough for the sort of support he'd need. He wasn't an invalid, but he'd need assistance changing the dressings he was left with. He'd also need help getting back to full strength.
No matter how hard he pushed himself in PT, living on his own would be a completely different experience, especially since he'd never done it before. For someone who'd joined the army young, transitioning into a civilian life was difficult enough. Adding on the limitations he would have at first would make it more so.
“So he's going to help you get settled there then?” I kept my voice light and gentle, shoving my personal distress down deep.
He lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”
I gave him a hard look. He'd been wanting to leave the hospital since long before he was ready. Now he was getting what he wanted and he didn't seem to care. I knew they'd had a counselor talk to him a couple weeks ago, but I also knew that X was smart enough to tell a therapist what they needed to hear to believe he was okay.
Concern seeped into the sadness I felt at the idea of his leaving. “Aren't you excited about going home?”
His gaze met mine, eyes cold. “Actually, I'm tired. Do you mind?”
I pushed myself off the wall and tried not to let him see how much his dismissal bothered me. In fact, I didn't want to even think about it myself. It shouldn't have hurt me, not really. I never took anything my patients said to heart, and this was far from the cruelest thing I'd had directed at me.