On the laptop monitor, the familiar footage plays. I’ve seen bits and pieces of this video on the different news stations all week. Usually about ten seconds worth is all I’ve gotten through before shutting it off. My entire body tingles as I watch myself beating on the window of the man’s van. It’s strange to see yourself do something that you have no memory of. Like watching footage of yourself blacked out at a frat party. Who is that guy? Without the memory connecting me to the event, it feels surreal.
We’ve now made it past the part that I usually see before scrambling for the remote. Now, I’m wrenching the door open and unbuckling the man’s seat belt in a panic. My seat suddenly feels extremely uncomfortable, like I just can’t find a way to sit in it that isn’t pinching into my skin. Cooper leans over to shut the remaining footage off, when the person who taped this on their cellphone suddenly sweeps across the car and over to Lauren and Chris.
“No, wait, don’t turn it off.” I reach out and grab his hand.
I can feel Cooper’s stare boring into me, but I can’t tear my eyes off the screen. Chris tries to break free from Lauren’s arms to run over to me, but her and Chelsea firmly grab him by the shoulders and keep him by their side. It’s a good thing too, with the state of mind I was in, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he tried to intervene.
My guts twist up tight and my chest squeezes as I watch the tears slide down his face before he buries his head against his mother. Lauren is screaming my name, sobs convulsing through her body, but I’m too busy climbing into the man’s van to even know they’re near me. I let go of Cooper’s hand and he shuts off the computer.
“So, those are not the actions that one would expect from a highly decorated war veteran,” Cooper continues, “but, it doesn’t look like anything more complicated than a little outburst of road rage. After all, you were stuck in construction, weren't you?” He looks up at me imploring me to follow the bouncing ball and help him downplay this whole thing.
“No.” My voice is flat and empty.
“No? You weren’t in a construction zone?” He sounds betrayed.
“No, it wasn’t road rage. I wasn’t even driving. I think…” my voice cracks and I breathe in deep, I will not cry on national television.
I give myself a second, but I can’t push the image of Chris trying to run after me, trying to help me...what would I have done to him? What have I already done to him? To Lauren? To my family. I fight the tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
“What happened that day wasn’t road rage, Cooper,” my confession finally slips out. “I’ve been having flashbacks of the war ever since I returned home. I’m back there every night fighting in my dreams, and I’m often transported back in the day when something sets me off. I, well, I think that people look at me and they see that I’ve learned to walk again, and they say ‘oh, he’s better. He’s healed.’ But I haven’t healed. Because I have scars on the inside that no one can see, and they keep splitting open. I’m not better just because I can walk again. Not when my mind is still fighting a war.”
I take a deep breath and look straight into the camera, “I need help. I’m going to get professional help.”
39
Mack
2014
With a long day of fishing behind us, we’re settled around the campfire for the night. When I first looked into the Odyssey Project with Wounded Warriors, I wasn’t completely sold on their program. It just seemed like a bit of wishful thinking that you go out camping and fishing with other war veterans for a week and somehow you get better.
Luckily when I sat down with the program coordinator, Jay, he set me straight on how it all works. This is only my first day, but I already feel that familiar bond that you have with your brothers in arms. There is an instant understanding and respect given to anyone who served their country. However, that bond is much deeper when you know you’re with others who fought for it as well.
I stare into the fire, we all do, as Tim Baines wraps up his introduction. “So, that’s why I’m here,” he finishes up.
“Great, welcome to the group, Tim.” His eyes travel over our faces, “Mack Forrester? Would you mind sharing why you signed up for this program and what you hope to get out of it?”
I guess I’m up. I feel like when a teacher used to call on me in class because it was my turn to read. My head snaps up and my eyes try to focus after staring into the flickering flames to look at Jay.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I clear my throat and look around self-consciously. However, none of the other guys are looking at me. They’re all zoned out like I was a couple of seconds ago. Listening, but hypnotized by the fire.