When was the last time I had any reaction to a man? Gosh, I can’t even remember. It is a part of me that has been turned off and shut down for so long.
Ever since I saw what I saw and realized just how deep cruelty can go.
“He’s a SEAL, or was,” Bruce says as his chair squeaks when he leans back. “Or is. I don’t know for sure if he is or isn’t. From what I hear, he’s back. Done. Not sure the details, he got hurt or something, lost some of his team members. His father is quite a peach.”
I’m thinking about the scars. Those are old, so they can’t be from anything recent. If he has another injury that sent him home, it’s not visible.
“Hey, I need to come in a half-hour late tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“Sure. I’ll get Sonya to cover until you get here.” He snaps off a bite of pretzel. Since he quit smoking two weeks ago, everything he eats is a poor impression of a cigarette.
I want to ask more about Mr. Fitzgerald’s son, but I can’t believe I have any interest in knowing more about another human. Bruce is probably my only friend, and he forced it on me.
There is a soft knock on his office door. “What?” he answers with an annoyed shout. He never gets any peace. Two hundred and fifty-three beds and he is here almost twelve hours a day.
“See ya.” I pop the salty end of my pretzel into my mouth and raise my eyebrows at him as the door opens.
There’s always someone wanting him. A question, a complaint, some staff drama.
“Bye,” he sighs at me. “Go see if he’s still here. I’m walking down that way if he is. My celibacy is not by choice, you know. At least I can get a look . . .”
He switches gears when I open the door, and he turns professional again.
I am not going back down that hall right now.
My usual stoic indifference is my battle shield, and I need to get my armor back in place.
Five minutes later, I’m helping Mr. Timmons up from his chair into the bed when my radio chirps on my hip
“I mean it. Twenty-six, now, and report back.” Bruce’s voice quips through the static.
Uggg, He’s going to keep after me until I go. He can be a pain in the ass, but it’s nearly impossible to say no to him.
I check my watch as I work my way back toward twenty-six. It’s fourteen minutes until shift change. My heart is already bouncing triple time. I resolve I will get close to Mr. Fitzgerald’s door, take one quick listen, see if I hear his voice and report to Bruce. I’ll be safely gone and shake off whatever this is that Mr. Testosterone has me feeling.
Listen at the door, do not go in.
Definitely do not look at his eyes.
Those eyes that should be hanging in a museum somewhere.
Those eyes that made me feel like he saw me.
Really saw me.
The invisible girl. The ghost.
Beckett
What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.
It’s taking all my will power not to run out of my dad’s room and down the fucking hall after her. Everything about her is familiar. She’s just older. And more beautiful.
When the door shut, and she disappeared, it felt like someone hit me with a hammer.
Go get her.
She wouldn’t meet my eye and ran out of here like a demon was chasing her.
She’s still hiding. Trying to stay safe.
I get it. I understand. She wants nothing to do with me. I don’t blame her.
“So, you’re here.” My dad hisses. “Now get me the hell out!”
He looks better, but he’s not better.
“Where are you going to go, Dad?” I give reasonable discourse a try.
“What the fuck do you care where I go? Just get me out of here.”
Okay, reasonable is historically not the way to go with Dad, at least not since our world turned to ashes. And, it would seem not much has changed.
I look down at his rolled up pant leg. Silver safety pins hold it folded near his knee. My neck twitches three times. It’s gotten worse since I got back. You would think being in a hot combat area in Afghanistan would be more stressful than the Windfield Skilled Nursing Facility in downtown Cleveland.
Nope. This is worse.
“You can’t stay with me, Dad. We’ve been down that dark alley before.” I scratch my forehead and close my eyes before taking a deep breath and counting to ten.
“I don’t want to stay with you, you jackass. I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”
The way you took care of me?
“I see.” I let out a tense chuckle, and Dad sniffs back at me.
“Uh huh. I bet you do.” His voice is gravelly, harder and more distant than the last time I saw him close to two years ago. Coming here today was the right thing to do, I need to keep reminding myself. But, I can’t stay. There’s nothing new to say. Only shadows and disappointment between us. Ghosts.