“Why don’t you do physical therapy? You could be walking without the crutches and not in a wheelchair all the time.” I’m genuinely curious as to what is making this chick tick right now.
“I don’t know.” Mia’s lying to me. I should push for the truth, but I don’t want to send her into a panic attack.
I’ve been doing some volunteer work at this place called K9s for Warriors. It’s a place for veterans who are disabled, mentally and physically, to bond with and help train their dogs to offer them support. I donate supplies, do some cleaning, and learning how to dog train as well. I’ve learned one of the most important things you can do for a veteran going through PTSD is not to push. It could trigger something in them.
“Are you seeing a therapist?”
“Yes and she’s making me journal. I struggle with what happened to me over there. It’s like my brain wants to keep that time hidden in me. I don’t know if I ever want to know but the nightmares are like flashes of it. I try to piece it together, but nothing makes sense.” She sighs. We stop at the bridge where they have benches for people to sit down. We’re walking on the town bike path that a lot of walkers and runners use as well. “Thanks for letting me sit down. I need a rest. I’m not used to walking so much.” She sighs in relief.
“No problem. I could rest too. Here’s a water for you.” I hand her a bottle that I swiped from her house.
“I’m nervous,” Mia confesses. I’m waiting for more but nothing. So I start guessing.
“About what? Your face?” I notice that she’s wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball cap that covers her eyes, pushed down over her right side. “Your prosthetic?”
“Well duh!” She sarcastically laughs. “I’m in shorts so everyone can see that I don’t have both my legs. You already know how I feel about my face.”
“You shouldn’t be nervous. You’re beautiful.” Mia scoffs. “Mia, you were in an accident that you lost your leg, scars covering the damage of something, and burns on your face show everyone who sees you that you’re a survivor.” Mia laughs at me. “No, a warrior who survived hell.” I move her blonde hair off her shoulder. “You have in that pretty head of yours where Mia is useless, shouldn’t be alive. Blah. Blah. Blah. You’re not a victim.”
“I am a victim of my own thoughts and some terrorist who tried to kill me and killed my unit,” she snaps at me. “I know that I signed up for this when I became a soldier, but they don’t train you how to deal with survivor’s guilt. There is always one question going on in my head from the time I get up to the time I go to sleep; why did I make it out alive while others didn’t?” Mia sobs. I pull her into my arms rubbing her back.
“We may never know the answer to that question. But a question I was going to counter with when you think like that; is hiding out in your house honoring their memories?”
Chapter Five
Mia
I was pissed at Darren for the way he woke me up and for forcing me to get out of the house but I’m glad that he did. It’s nice being able to talk freely without having guilt for thinking what I’m thinking. I love my parents and brother but sometimes they just don’t get it. My nose tickles with Darren’s cologne. It’s a nice blend of musk and woodsy. His strong arms around me make me feel like I can conquer anything, like I want to do anything to make him happy.
“Darren, do you think that we can keep walking? I’m starving. Also I need to take my leg off for a little bit as long as that doesn’t bother you.”
“It doesn’t bother me. Let’s go.” He stands up. I grab the crutches to stand up too. He helps balance me. We walk in silence for about fifteen minutes.
“Cooking for you, how many hours would I have to work?” He smiles at me. He thinks that he won and got me.
“Maybe twenty hours a week. Gordon said that he’d be happy to train you on his recipes.”
“Would I have to bartend?” I’m nervous about being in the public.
“Not if you don’t want to. Gordon only cooks and never leaves the kitchen. Your scars don’t make you hideous, you know that, right?” I don’t know if I trust him. He’s my brother’s best friend he has to be nice to me or Adam would kick his ass.
“Then why do people cross the street when they see me?” Darren stops dead in his tracks and stands in front of me taking off my baseball cap. “What are you doing?”
“Pull your hair up. Show off your face,” he demands.
“No, now give me back my hat. You have me out here walking in shorts showing off my legs can we do baby steps, please?”
“I don’t think so. Mia, you have secluded yourself long enough. Hair up, now.” He wasn’t wrong. I’m terrified to show that vulnerability. I sigh knowing that he’s not going to budge if I don’t do it. My hands are shaking as he takes the crutches from me. I grab my hair at the base of my skull to thread it through the opening in the back of the baseball cap. You can only see part of my burns on my face but enough to make me feel self-conscious, vulnerable, scared, and ugly.
“Now look at that.” Darren tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re beautiful, Mia.” His hand lingers on my right cheek. I know I can’t feel anything, but I swear my face is heating up from blushing. I close my eyes enjoying the touch from the man
