After Midnight

by Lacy Hart

  But that was five years ago. A lot has changed in his family dynamic since then. Lizzie is older, Denise has become more resentful of me and, it seems to me, Lizzie too. Lizzie turns to me more when she needs help, has a question, or wants advice, and I know Denise has come to resent it. I’m sure she would be perfectly happy to hear me say I was moving out.

  I could feel a headache coming on after all of this. I was tired from work, felt emotionally worn out from this episode, and was upset that the past was coming to haunt me again.

  “I need to go to work,” James said, standing up and coming over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I muttered. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just need to get some sleep I think. We can talk about this more tonight if you want.”

  “We’ll see,” James said. “I’ll talk to Denise and see if I can calm her down some. We’ll work this out, I promise.”

  James left my bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he went. I crawled up on the bed, pulled the blanket under my chin, and could feel myself starting to gently sob. I had higher hopes for this day from early morning on, but somehow things had deteriorated quickly.

  I can never seem to get too comfortable or happy, I thought to myself, shutting my eyes tightly and hoping to wish all the hurt away.

  7

  Caleb

  I was grateful to get a good night/morning of sleep for a change instead of the restless nights of the last few weeks. I probably would have slept even longer if Linda hadn’t called me on my cell phone and woke me up. When I heard the phone shrieking through the air with its ring, I jumped out of bed and gasped. Once I realized it was the phone, I reached over and grasped it to see it was Linda. Not only was she calling, but apparently I had missed the eight text messages she sent before the call.

  “Hi Linda,” I said groggily into the phone.

  “Why haven’t you returned my texts?” she asked me, sounding more than a little annoyed.

  “Linda, I was sleeping,” I said to her, wiping my eyes. “I got in late and then went for a run this morning, so I was pretty tired.”

  “Got in late? Where did you go?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night and went for a walk and ended up in the Moonlight.”

  “Why would you go to the diner? You could have just come over to the house for something to eat.” Linda sounded more annoyed by the minute.

  “I didn’t want to wake you guys up, and I really wasn’t looking for any food. I just wanted to walk and saw they were open so I went in for a cup of coffee... Why do I have to explain this to you?” I was getting a little annoyed myself now.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Linda said. “I was calling you because it’s three o’clock. I wanted to make sure you remember…”

  “Yes, I remember about the appointment with Dr. Weber at 6. Linda, you need to calm down about this. I am going to the appointment.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” Linda said. “I was just checking, and you didn’t answer my messages, so I figured you were avoiding me.”

  “Not avoiding, just sleeping. I’m going to go now and take a shower and get myself dressed. There’s plenty of time for me to get there. Dr. Weber’s office is just a few blocks away. Go back to work.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you when you get home. I’ll pick up a pizza,” Linda told me, trying not to sound too motherly now.

  I hung up the phone and sighed, wondering if there would ever be a day where Linda wasn’t worried about me. She’s been taking care of me in one way or another for such a long time now that I don’t think she knows of any other way to act. I appreciate all she has done and keeps doing for me, and for Adam, but at times it can seem a bit smothering.

  I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it get nice and hot before stepping in to wash off the sweat from my run that had dried onto my skin. I never realized how much of a luxury a shower was until after I got home from the military. There were times where we would go days without access to a shower, so it was a treat to have the ability to go in and feel hot water on you whenever you wanted.

  As I washed, I could feel my hands glide gently over the areas where I had scars. Though both scars were from wounds from quite a while ago, they served as constant reminders of what life was during my time overseas. One scar went across my right shoulder, while I had another just above my left hip. Even just soaping over them brought back memories of when each happened.

  After letting the hot water run on me for a while, I got out of the shower and toweled off. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I contemplated getting rid of the beard I wore. I had never had a beard before I went into the army, but as part Special Forces we were encouraged to grow beards, unlike other parts of the military where facial hair is a no-no. The beards helped us in relations with those in our area, particularly in Afghanistan, where men are more trusting of other men that have beards like themselves.

  Now that I was out of the Army, having the beard didn’t seem to make much sense to me, but I was also reluctant to get rid of it. It had been such a part of my identity for so long, I would almost feel naked without it. Instead of shaving it off, I decided to just trim it up a bit, so it looked neater. I took out my handy beard trimmer, a gift from Ella and Adam one Father’s Day… one I hadn’t used much since I was rarely home, and used it to get rid of some of the stray and unruly hairs so that the beard looked neater.

  Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I went and got dressed. I needed to make sure I had something comfortable on for the doctor visit. The last thing I wanted was to sit there fidgeting because of my clothes. The experience alone was going to be uncomfortable enough for me; there was no need to make things worse. I decided a t-shirt and jeans would be good enough, and put them on, along with a pair of sneakers.

  I put my watch on and saw it was after four, so I still had plenty of time. Grabbing my wallet, keys and my sweatshirt, I decided to go over to the house and see what Adam was up to and ask him about his day. When I walked into the house, there was nothing but dead silence. I didn’t even hear any of his music playing. I called out, but there was no answer. Figuring he had his headphones on while doing homework or playing on his computer, I took a walk up the stairs and went to his bedroom.

  I knocked on the door, loud enough so that he might hear me with his headphones on, but there was still no answer. I slowly opened the door, hearing it creak as I did. I didn’t want to surprise or interrupt him, but as I opened the door, I saw his room was empty. It was then I remembered that he was at basketball practice for the game tomorrow night.

  I took a quick glance around his room, not wanting to pry or invade his space, but just to see what it was like. There was still so much I felt I didn’t know about Adam that I thought if I saw what he was interested in that maybe I could get a little closer to him. Without opening any drawers or disturbing anything, I looked around at his room and desk. It was sparse, with not much on the walls other than a couple of basketball pennants. He had shelves that held some of his basketball trophies and sports awards from years past, reminding of all the games and awards ceremonies that I had missed along the way.

  I didn’t want to touch anything on his desk, but I did notice a picture of Adam standing with his arm around a cheerleader from the team while she was giving him a kiss on the cheek. Adam never indicated to me that he had a girlfriend, and I didn’t know for sure that he did, but the picture did seem to indicate something. It made me wish we were close enough where he could talk about things like that with me, or even give an indication that he was going out on a date or had someone special in his life.

  I put the picture back down on his desk and left his room, closing the door, and made my way back down the stairs. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table, eyeing the clock on the wall and my watch, alternating between one and the other, hoping to see the time pass by so I could get this appointment over with.
I still had about 45 minutes before I needed to be there, and the walk to his office would only take about ten minutes or so, leaving me to stress over the meeting until then.

  I always worried about what doctors like this were going to ask. I never felt comfortable revealing a lot of aspects of my life to anyone. I did open up to Ella, and she seemed to be the only one that could understand me when I was feeling anxious, stressed, sad, lonely or any other emotion. I always had doubts that psychiatrists could help you get to the heart of things and provide you with any assistance at all. On the other hand, I did know, deep down, that I was not having an easy time handling a lot of things in my life right now. Gaining some insight from someone with some outside objective might be just what I needed at this moment.

  The ticking sound of the kitchen clock seemed to be the only noise echoing throughout the house, and the more I focused on it, the louder it seemed to get. I was going to drive myself mad listening to that sound, and I knew I had to get out of the house. I walked out the back door into the fresh air.

  The sun was starting to get lower in the sky as evening approached. As I walked along, I could see kids heading inside to get their dinners, running off their lawns as parents called them in. More cars came down the streets as people started heading home from work. I decided to take a longer route since I had so much time to kill and found myself wandering over towards Baldwin and passing in front of Sarah’s house. I walked slowly past the driveway, looking up at the house to see the finely manicured lawn and long driveway. I wondered which window was hers and suddenly felt like a teenager who was enamored with the girl at school and just wanted to see where she lived. I stood just to the right driveway on the sidewalk outside the picket fence that surrounded the yard. A car pulled into the driveway as I stood there, and the driver and I locked eyes for a moment. The woman gazed at me through the car window as she eased into the driveway, giving me a stern look as she saw me there. I thought it best to be on my way before she got the wrong idea and turned up the street to head towards Oak Street.

  Once I was on Oak Street, I worked my way back over to where Dr. Weber’s office was. I could feel myself starting to tense before I even reached the front of the building. When I arrived at the small brick building, I stood in front of the door for a minute or two, trying to decide if I was really going to go in. I had made a promise to Linda and needed to follow through this time, so I sucked it up, swung the door open, and went inside.

  I opened the wooden door to my right and was in Dr. Weber’s waiting room. There was no one in there this time, not even the receptionist. I peered through the receptionist window to see if I could see anyone in the back but saw no sign of anyone. I gave a light rap on the glass window there, hoping to get someone’s attention. My real hope was that no one came out so I could go back home, tell Linda I was here, and no one appeared, and just forget about the whole thing.

  I guess I wasn’t that lucky. The door to the inner office swung open, and there stood a tall, thin man with round-rim glasses and a smile on his face.

  “Caleb?” he asked, having a stronger Southern drawl than I had expected him to.

  “Yes?” I answered hesitantly.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Weber,” he said to me as he thrust his right hand out towards me to shake hands. I shook his hand and felt his grip in mind. His hands were soft, and his grip was relaxed, much more relaxed than mine was.

  “Come on in,” Dr. Weber told me as he held the door open. I walked through the office door and a short distance down a small hallway into his office. His office was not what I had expected to find. I had seen several Army psychiatrists’ offices, and they looked nothing like what Dr. Weber had. Sure, he had his diploma on the wall, a bookcase filled with books, and the obligatory desk with chairs. I didn’t see the “couch” you might expect to see in the usual office, but I did notice that the chairs he had were stressless recliners to help you feel more comfortable.

  “Have a seat,” Dr. Weber said to me, pointing to the chairs in front of his desk.

  “No couch?” I said to him sarcastically.

  Dr. Weber let out a light laugh. “I used to have a couch in here, but I found people felt really self-conscious when they came in and saw it. The chairs made them more comfortable.”

  I sat down in one of the black leather chairs as Dr. Weber went behind his desk. He grabbed a folder he had and a leather portfolio and then came around and sat in the chair across from me.

  “I’m glad you could come in,” he said to me, adjusting his glasses slightly. His tall frame seemed too tall for the chair he was in, and he moved around a bit to find a comfortable location for his body.

  “Well, I promised my sister I would come,” I said begrudgingly.

  “Linda’s a great person,” Dr. Weber told me. “She and I went to undergrad together at Duke, and then she went to the law school while I went to medical school. We’ve known each other for a long time. It was funny we both ended up in Swanson. I hadn’t seen her in years until she started her practice here.”

  “Yes, she is a great sister.” I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying not to fidget too much.

  “So, tell me a little about yourself Caleb,” Dr. Weber said as he sat back in his chair.

  “What do you want to know?” I said, trying to anticipate the direction he was seeking to go.

  “Whatever you want to tell me. I know you were in the Army and recently retired. What was your military career like?”

  “It was good, I spent twenty years in the Army.”

  “What did you do in the service?” he asked, jotting down something on his notepad. I kept a keen eye every time he started writing, wondering what he was putting down.

  “I was in Special Forces.”

  “Wow,” he said raising his eyebrows. “That’s pretty impressive. It takes a special kind of person to do those jobs. Where were you based?”

  “I was in the 3rd SF Group, 2nd Battalion, Alpha Company. I was based out of Fort Bragg but didn’t spend much time there.”

  “I imagine not,” Dr. Weber noted. “Where did you travel?”

  “Afghanistan, North Africa, places around there. I’m not really supposed to talk about a lot of details about what I did. It’s classified stuff in many cases.”

  “I understand,“ he said with a nod. “Don’t worry – whatever you say to me is confidential. We don’t have to get into specifics about where you went or what you did. I would think you saw some pretty intense things while you served.”

  “You could say that,” I told him, sitting back in the chair now.

  “It’s a big change for you then, being in Swanson instead of somewhere in Afghanistan.”

  “It’s certainly a lot slower paced,” I said as I sighed.

  “Are you glad you’re home, Caleb?”

  “Why would you ask that?” I said, sitting up and feeling defensive now. “Of course I am glad to be home. No one likes the idea of getting shot at every day or having people trying to kill you all the time for twenty years.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Weber replied, sitting straight up in his chair. “All I meant was many veterans like yourself, after spending most of their lives in the military, find it difficult to adjust once they are out of the Army. Many exhibit signs of depression, anxiety, sleeplessness – some the symptoms I know Linda had indicated you were struggling with when she first talked to me about you. You may find that…”

  “Let me stop you right there Doc,” I interrupted. “If you are going tell me about PTSD and the medications I can take we can end this session now. I don’t have PTSD, and I don’t want to take any medications.”

  “PTSD is not the only issue that returning veterans face, Caleb,” he answered calmly. “And I would never suggest you take any medication that I didn’t think would help you. If you prefer not to take anything, that’s fine. We can talk about whether I think you need anything as we go on and talk more. My goal is to help you feel comfortable with yourself, your su
rroundings, and your family. It seems to me that those are things you would want to work on.”

  I was glad to hear he wasn’t trying to force a diagnosis on me and push medication that might make me a zombie all the time.

  “Thanks,” I said to him. “I appreciate that.” I let out another deep sigh.

  “You’re welcome. Now that we have that established, have you had any trouble adjusting to being at home?”

  I thought hard about how to answer this. The easy thing to do would be to lie and just say everything was fine, but deep down I knew that approaching things that way would not benefit me at all. I knew I should be honest, but I just didn’t know how much I wanted to open up about just yet.