by Dez Burke
A cold chill goes through me. Why is he talking about how things could have been instead of how things will be?
“Fight for me then! You’re confusing me. What is so bad that it can’t be worked on and fixed?”
He turns his head sideways and looks directly at me. His eyes are full of raw pain. This is the second time I’ve seen them this way. How much sorrow is hidden deep inside this man? I would do anything to make it go away. I’ve never felt so powerless.
“I can’t be fixed,” he says. “I’m damaged goods. No, correction. Not just damaged. I’m broken inside beyond repair. Completely shattered into pieces. And dangerous. Let’s not forget that. What kind of a man almost chokes a woman to death before their first date?”
“You were having a nightmare. I don’t blame you for that.”
“How does that make a difference if I had killed you? I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Can you imagine what your father would say? Or your mother? Or the police?” He puts his hand to his chest. “Personally, I wouldn’t want any daughter of mine within one hundred yards of a man like me. I’m too unpredictable. Tonight I wanted to kill Brad. I honestly did. I felt a murderous rage take over me when he started criticizing my brothers in the military. As if they were less than nothing. Men who have lost their lives for assholes like him.”
“Don’t feel too bad for wanting to kill him,” I say. “He deserved your rage. Nobody would have blamed you for putting him in his place. My parents were horrified by the thoughtless things he was saying too. I could tell.”
“There’s a difference between being mad and actually wanting to kill someone,” he says. “I saw your face tonight. You were embarrassed by me when I lost it. I don’t blame you. A fancy dinner isn’t the place for a bar room brawl.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t ignore him and just let it go. Not about that. He could’ve called me dog shit and I might have turned the other cheek to keep the peace at the dinner table. But to put down the men in the military was more than I could swallow. I’m sorry the night didn’t turn out better and that I made such a terrible first impression on your parents.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to reassure him. “You don’t have to be around Brad again if you don’t want to be. And my parents will understand if I tell them about your PTSD.”
Or would they?
This conversation is quickly taking a downhill turn, and I’m starting to panic.
“We can work through this,” I say, talking faster now. “We can work through anything together. Let’s drive up to my apartment and park your truck. We can go inside my place and talk all night if we need to. Just don’t leave when you’re upset.”
Toby slowly shakes his head. “You still don’t get it. The reason we’re sitting here outside your building is because I can’t make myself drive into that parking garage again. I just can’t. And I don’t expect you to understand that my mind is telling me that there’s danger around every dark curve. When I drove in there earlier today, my adrenaline level was through the roof by the time I knocked on your door.”
“I’ll drive the truck up,” I suggest. “You can take the elevator from the lobby on the first floor. Then I’ll drive your truck down in the morning. It’s not a big deal.”
“See what’s happening here? You’re already making accommodations for my mental instability. My craziness is affecting you. Did you know that yesterday I almost hit another driver head on? I saw a black trash bag that a volunteer clean-up crew had left on the side of the road for the next crew to pick up. When I glanced at it, I didn’t see a trash bag. I saw a hidden IED that could explode at any moment. So I instinctively swerved away from it the same way I’d been taught to do. Except I wasn’t on a dusty, desert road in Afghanistan. I was on a two-lane highway. I ran the other driver right off onto the shoulder of the road before I corrected. It’s a miracle I didn’t kill someone. Next time I might. Or you might be riding behind me on a bike when it happens. There’s zero room for error on a bike.”
Why hasn’t he been talking to me about this more? Toby’s PTSD is worse than I could’ve imagined. He’s trying so hard to keep it hidden when he should be letting people help him through it.
Always the tough guy.
The protector.
Never a man who asks for help.
“How often does this kind of thing happen?” I ask. “Every day? Occasionally?”
“Often enough lately,” he says, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck. “For a long time, I had my shit together. Or at least I thought I did. Maybe it was always simmering right below the surface, ready to boil over at any time. The shooting at the mall triggered something in me.”
He slumps back against the seat and leans his head against the window.
“I hate the word ‘trigger’ since it’s so overused. The truth is that’s what happened. The attack put my brain right back in Afghanistan where every day was a fight for survival. Where danger could be hiding anywhere. Now that I’m back in that fucking dark place, I can’t find my way out again. I’m going crazy. And I’m dragging you down into the nuthouse with me.”
“We can get you help,” I suggest. “I’m sure there are counselors who specialize in PTSD.”
He snorts. “You think I haven’t been to counselors already? I have. I’m not one of those men who think it’s a weakness to ask for help.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Okay, maybe I am. My commander forced me to go. Said it was an order. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone either.”
“What did they say?”
“That I wasn’t alone. That PTSD is more common than people know. That I needed to find a way to work through it. They suggested all kinds of things. Support groups, talk therapy. Even a weird kind of exposure therapy where you wear a virtual reality headset that mimics going on patrol in Afghanistan. I said a big ‘fuck no!’ to that one. I didn’t like the thought of any of it.”
“You stopped going to the counselors?”
“Hell yes I did!” he answers. “I went a couple of times and that’s about it. The last straw was when they started pressuring me to take medication. I have friends who are so drugged up on anti-depressants and mood stabilizers that they can’t function. I can’t be doped up on meds and ride a bike or carry weapons. That’s not happening. All the talking was making things worse too. It brought everything back up to the surface where it felt raw. I handle things better when I can put it out of my mind. The less I dwell on my time in the military, the better.”
“Your technique obviously hasn’t worked so far,” I remind him gently.
“It was working fine. Until the day at the mall. God, how I wished that hadn’t happened. It turned my life upside down.”
“Then we wouldn’t have met.”
“Which for your sake would have been for the best,” he argues. “We can’t keep on this way. There’s no point in dragging things out when I know it’s going to end badly for both of us.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
He regretfully lets go of my hand. “That we’re over. This is the way it has to be. And it doesn’t mean that I don’t care for you, because I do. Too much. That’s why I’m letting you go. And please don’t argue with me about this. I can’t expect any woman to be with me when I need to do so much work on myself.”
Now I’m beginning to feel angry. I can’t believe he would walk away from us so quickly. Without putting up a fair fight. I thought we were more than that.
“I think you’re trying to find an excuse to dump me,” I say, fighting back tears. “I’m nothing more than another Sweet Butt to you. You’re making up excuses to let me down easy.”
Toby reaches over to tuck my long hair behind my ear and cups my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into his hand.
“Maggie, please don’t. You know what I’m saying is the truth. Deep down inside you want to believe I’m your Guardian Angel when I’m your worst fucking nightmare. I’m doing this to protect you. From me. From who I am now. If we stay together
, something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.”
“We can work through this together,” I say again.
A single tear oozes out of the corner of my eye and starts sliding down my cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb.
“You know how much I love Sadie, right?”
I nod because there’s no doubt in my mind how much he loves his dog. If there’s one thing I know for sure, Toby adores Sadie.
“Be honest,” he says. “What do you think I would do if I knew I couldn’t provide food for her or give her the love she deserves? I would try my best to find a loving home where other people would take good care of her. I wouldn’t want to be without her, but for her sake, I would do what was best. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“That you’re comparing me to a dog?” I say, trying to laugh and failing.
“No. That I’m willing to make personal sacrifices for those that I care about.”
“If you care about me so much, then you wouldn’t walk away.”
“There isn’t a choice,” he says. “Not with the way I am now.”
Toby’s voice is dead, flat, and without emotion. He’s shut himself off from me now. I know him well enough to realize that things aren’t going to get any better tonight. Maybe he just needs some space and time. I can give him that.
I’m willing to give him whatever he needs.
The security guard is walking toward us now. Any second and he’s going to be tapping on Toby’s window.
I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand and hit the unlock button on the truck door.
“This isn’t over,” I say. “I’m not giving up on you.”
I slide out of the truck and tug my dress down before walking over to meet the security guard who is halfway to the truck.
“It’s okay,” I say. “He was just leaving.”
I don’t turn around or look back.
44
Toby
The two-hour drive back to the North Georgia mountains from Atlanta is long and tiring. At the halfway mark, it starts to pour down an icy mixture of sleet and freezing rain. The truck’s wipers are partially broken and make a loud, scraping sound every time they clear the windshield. It wouldn’t surprise me if they quit completely. It would be a perfect ending to a mother-fucking disaster of a day.
I want to get home and take a long, hot shower. Forget about tonight and try my best to forget about Maggie.
I did the right thing.
I’m sure of it.
It’s better to hurt her a little now than to have something awful happen to her later. When I completely snapped tonight, it scared me. This is the second time I’ve done something completely crazy, dangerous, and unpredictable. If Maggie hadn’t been sitting beside me, I would’ve beaten Brad into a lifeless pulp. Knowing she was watching me was the only thing holding me back.
In the Marines, I was known for being cool and collected under pressure. Always accurate with a rifle. Precise and emotionless.
Now I’m a loose cannon going off and out of control. Since the shooting, I’m slowly but surely becoming mentally unhinged. Instead of getting better, every day I’m progressively getting worse.
I can’t be with Maggie when I’m this way.
She deserves better.
And I don’t deserve her.
45
Maggie
My cell phone rings, waking me from a fitful sleep. I grab it and hit the accept button, hoping it’s Toby.
“We need to talk,” Nicole says firmly.
Damn. The last person I want to talk to this morning. I close my eyes and plop back down on the pillows.
“Do we have to?” I ask. “What’s to say? Brad was an asshole the entire night and Toby got sick of it. Brad had it coming. He should be thankful Toby didn’t drag him outside and beat the crap out of him. If he did, I would have been right there cheering him on.”
“Brad has a nasty bruise on his neck this morning,” Nicole says. “We’re thinking about taking him to the emergency room. What if there is permanent damage? And how is he supposed to go to work and meet with clients looking as if he was in a bar fight?”
Nicole is being overly dramatic as usual.
“Put some ice on it. He’ll be fine. His pride is hurt more than anything. You and I both know that. I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to him before now. He’s been pulling this crap for years.”
“Last night was humiliating,” she whines. “It was an embarrassment to Mom and Dad too. Their friends and business associates were there to witness the whole thing. You can’t go around physically assaulting people. Can you imagine what everyone at the country club thought? Toby is lucky we’re not filing charges.”
I bolt straight up in bed.
“Nicole, I’m warning you right now. If Brad files charges against Toby or causes trouble for him in any way, I’ll never forgive you. I’m serious. Brad is a pompous jerk and always has been. Let it go. And as far as being humiliated, you should be humiliated by the way Brad acts. I don’t know how you tolerate him. Mom and Dad were probably more embarrassed by his obnoxious behavior than by Toby causing a scene.”
Dead silence comes from the other end of the line.
“I’ll talk to Brad,” she says after a moment. “I agree it would be better for everyone to forget this ever happened.” She sighs. “I know he can be an ass sometimes. On the drive home, he kept asking me what he said to set Toby off. He really didn’t have a clue.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“There’s actually another reason I called. I’m worried about your relationship with Toby. He has a weird psychological hold on you, and I’m concerned.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“He saved your life, and you were together during a very traumatic event. It’s only human nature that you would continue to cling to him after it ended. I think you should talk to a psychologist about it. I’m sure there’s a scientific term for it.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “No way. You want me to see a shrink because you don’t understand my feelings for Toby? That’s not happening. Sure, he’s not my usual type and we never would have met under normal circumstances. I’ll admit that. What we have together is real and good. Better than anything I’ve ever felt before with another man. You make me sound as if I’m psychologically unstable. I’m not.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asks quietly. “No matter what, you know that I love you. You’re my baby sister and I want only the best for you. Your relationship with Toby scares me to death. What do you really know about this man? Be honest. Not for me. For yourself. My suggestion would be to take some time apart. Let the physical heat die down for a bit and see where things stand. A month from now, you might think back on this and wonder what you were ever doing with him.”
“It doesn’t matter because he broke up with me last night.” I choke the words out. “You don’t need to worry about me. It’s over now.”
“Are you upset?” Nicole asks. “I can tell that you are. I’m sorry about that. It’s for the best. Toby sees it too. You come from two different worlds and it would never work out between you. You’ve dodged another bullet with him leaving. Let him go. I know you can be a bulldog when you want something or believe in a cause. There are times when it’s better to leave things alone.”
“It seems I don’t have a choice now anyway,” I say. “I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you soon.” I click the phone off without waiting for her to say goodbye.
I can’t help wondering about what she said. Could I be infatuated with Toby in some weird way because of the circumstances that threw us together? I know what I feel for him and how I feel when I’m with him.
Nothing has ever felt so real.
Or have I been so taken by the intense sexual chemistry between us that I never thought past the present? Our living arrangements would be one of the many hurdles to overcome. I have a great job in the city that I don’t want
to give up. Toby is happy living in the mountains and could never be comfortable in Atlanta. He’s a country boy and I was raised in a high-society family.
Last night was a perfect example of the collision course we were on. All it took was a match to ignite the meltdown of our relationship. I couldn’t keep Toby hidden in a box forever. Whatever issues we have would’ve popped up sooner or later.
Still though, it’s hard for me to accept. If Toby didn’t care about me, it would be different. Last night I could see the love for me in his eyes and feel it in the way his hand caressed my cheek.
No way is this over.
My Daddy didn’t raise a quitter.
Nicole is right about one thing. There are still so many things that I don’t know about Toby. Especially about his time in the military. I wish I could talk to someone who knew him then. The boy soldier who returned a shattered man.
A man that I love with all my heart.
If I can’t talk to someone who knows him, I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll talk to men or women who have had personal experience fighting in the Middle East. Maybe they can give me insight and help me to better understand what Toby is going through.
There’s a veteran’s hospital on the other side of the city. I’ll pay a visit today and see if anyone would be willing to talk to me.
I’m not giving up on Toby.
Not now.
Not ever.
46
Maggie
“This is great stuff, Maggie,” my station manager, Roger, tells me over the phone. “I’ll switch some things around and make room this week to air the segments during the evening news. Come in as soon as you can to tape the promo spots and we’ll start running them.”
“Really?” I’m so shocked I almost run my car off the road. Another driver blows his horn at me when I get too close to the middle lane. “Are you serious?”
