Logan & Kayla Duet

Chapter 4-1

CHAPTER FOUR

LOGAN

The week comes and goes and after my shift on Friday, I call it an early night.

Only a few hours pass before I wake up, gasping for air. My heart is pounding hard in my chest, and I can’t seem to calm down or catch my breath. Trying a method I was taught years ago, I sit on the edge of my bed and count to ten. I feel my clothes sticking to my skin when I realize I’m soaked with sweat.

As I rub my hands across my face, I can still hear the screams and gunshots in my head, which makes my ears feel like they’re ringing. The scenario in these nightmares may change, but the ending is always the same that causes me to wake in a panic. They come and go, but since it had been a while, I stupidly thought the nightmares were gone for good.

I glance down at the time on my phone and notice it’s four in the morning. Although I’m exhausted, there’s no way I’ll be able to fall back asleep. Instead, I decide to take a lukewarm shower, get dressed, and drive down to the Eat & Drink Diner near the station.

As soon as I walk in, I’m greeted by the night crew who know me by name. Over the years, I’ve become a regular.

“Logan, sweetheart,” Mary says setting a steaming hot cup of coffee down in front of me. “It’s been awhile. Was wondering if you were ever coming back. You know I worry about my boys.”

I give her a smile. It has been awhile since I’ve stopped by, especially since I’ve moved to a more regular schedule at work. Mary’s in her mid-forties and saw the world when she was in the army. She’s always been a good listener and understands me on a different level because of her military background. Not many people in my life know what it’s like to risk their life for our country and to fight for their life every day overseas. Many people don’t know how close I was to losing everything.

Mary looks around before she speaks. It’s a regular hangout for the department, but tonight the place is almost empty.

“The military nightmares again?” She scoots in the booth in front of me as I take a sip of coffee.

I nod and let out a deep breath. “I thought they were gone for good.”

She stares at me for a moment, and I know she’s reliving her past just as I am, but she doesn’t push me on it. It’s been eight years since I was medically discharged, but there are times when it feels like yesterday. The nightmares tend to bring me back to those moments I try so desperately to forget.

“You know what you need? A fresh cooked meal. Henry,” she yells over her shoulder. “Breakfast special. Sunny side. Wheat toast. Crispy bacon. Side of strawberry jam.”

“You know me so well.”

She laughs. “You’ve ordered the same thing for years. It’s permanently etched into my notepad by this point.”

“True, very true.”

Mary leans in a little closer. “You know if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

I give her a smile. She’s offered to listen so many times that I’ve lost count, but I don’t. I don’t want to burden her with the details. The only person I’ve ever chatted with is my therapist and I like to keep it that way. At least then I know it’s confidential. Even speaking to her is hard.

“It’s easier for me to not talk or think about it.”

“I understand. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Mary grabs some menus and sits a few people that walk in. Soon my food is placed on the table along with a fresh cup of coffee.

Across the room a plate crashes to the floor and I jump, spilling coffee in my lap. I stand but I’m immediately taken back to the warzone and the warmth on my leg reminds me of blood. I close my eyes and tighten my fist before I lose it. Mary comes to me, places a hand on my shoulder and sits me down as I try to grasp reality. She hands me napkins to clean the coffee from my pants, and I’m in a daze. The nightmares have affected me more than I imagined and I feel weak, which I hate. Worry fills Mary’s eyes and before she can ask any questions, I pay my bill and she hands me a cup of coffee to go before I head back home. I know I need to deal with this today, and, honestly, I can’t wait to meet Drew and the crew for a late lunch today. I got a reminder text about the lunch as soon as they landed on Wednesday, but I’ve been giving the newlyweds their space. I’ll be happy when things have settled, because Drew makes for good company, and over the years, he’s become more like my brother than anything else. He’s seen my episodes when we were partners and together we’ve worked through it. Though he’s never fought in combat, Drew gets me and is just as protective of me as I am of him. He’s the only best friend I’ve had since my army days.

Once I’m back in my car, I feel the familiar pounding in my chest once again. I grab the steering wheel with tight hands and sit there, trying to take calm breaths in and out. Instead of forcing myself through it, I decide I need to talk about the way I feel before the anxiety slowly creeps up and takes control. Before I put the car in drive, I email my therapist who specializes in veteran affairs and PTSD and ask if it’s okay if we meet today. Though the sun is barely over the horizon, I receive a reply to my email telling me to meet her at the office at eight. It might be the longest three hours of my life.

I go home and change into some workout clothes and hit the gym. I run for an hour, lift weights, and stretch. By the time I return home and take a shower, I’m exhausted. When I look in the mirror, the black circles under my eyes are evident of that. I keep myself busy until it’s time to see Dr. Stevens. By the time I arrive at her office, I feel better and have gained control.

“Logan,” she says and sits down in her office that always seems cozy. She doesn’t pull out a notepad, and I never feel like she’s dissecting me. I’m thankful because it was hard for me to commit to therapy. I tend to think I can take care of myself and my issues, until one day I realized I couldn’t.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.” My hand is shaking and I interlock my fingers together to steady myself, to try to find my calm.

“You know I don’t mind. So, tell me what’s been going on.” Her voice is soft and sweet.

I let out air. “The nightmares returned. Last night.”

She’s patient and waits for me to continue as I search for the words to describe what I saw and felt.

“I saw the faces of all the soldiers that were killed in combat. I heard their screams and cries for help as they took their last breaths. I had an episode at the diner when coffee spilled on my lap. But I didn’t see or feel coffee, it was blood.” My mouth goes dry and Dr. Stevens hands me a bottle of water.

“The guilt of being one of the few who survived the IED still weighs on me heavily. I should be dead. I shouldn’t be here. I’m struggling and trying to fight off the demons of war right now, but I’m not sure I’m winning even after all these years.”

“But you are here. You’re alive and you’re strong. You can work through this. I will help you work through this,” she says, giving me the encouragement I need. “How do you feel right now?”

“I’m a different person. Every time I look at Maggie she looks at me like I’m a stranger and has since the day I returned from Iraq. I don’t think she ever forgave me. When I see people walk toward me, I wonder where their weapons are hidden. Often, I want to drive in the middle of the road because I know it’s the safest place or was in Iraq. It’s been eight years and I still have good and bad days and I wonder if it will ever be only good days. I knew my life would be different after war. Everyone tells you that, but I never imagined it would be like this. I knew at an early age I was born to be a soldier, but now I realize it was a childish dream that forever changed my life and the way I live. I think back to what I could’ve done differently the day of the accident. Everything happened so fast and so slow and the result was losing everyone who patrolled with me along with my best friend. I’ll never forget the look on his mother’s face when I returned with his belongings. I’ll never forget the sound of her cries as she hugged my neck and I’ll always wonder if she resented me, because Jake should have been the one alive, not me.”

“There is nothing you could’ve changed in that situation, Logan. Eventually you’ll have to stop blaming yourself and forgive yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. Once you’re able to do that, I feel like you’ll be able to heal. You didn’t set the IED. You weren’t the one driving.”

“But I was in a hurry to leave. We took a different route that I suggested.”

“And as a group, you all decided together that was the best route. Just because there were different paths you could’ve taken, doesn’t mean you could’ve avoided the outcome. The reality is you don’t know and we can’t change the past. You’ll have to work through this every day to accept that what happened isn’t your fault. But it’s normal to feel like it is.” She keeps her voice soft. She’s heard me go over this story several times and probably knows it by heart.

“I saw what war was, what it did to people and knowing what being calm in chaos really meant. How f****d up am I? I sometimes look at my daughter’s face and I wonder if her life would have been better without me. I look at Maggie and see the resentment she has each time she speaks to me. I’m known as a hardass. I don’t give people chances to get close and push them away as fast as I can.”

She looks at me with sad eyes and I can just imagine the stories she’s heard. “And how does that make you feel when you do that? When you push people away?”

“That I’m protecting them from me and my problems,” I answer truthfully.

“Have you been avoiding people lately?”

I laugh. “When am I not?”

“I’m not telling you to open up to everyone, but having relationships with people can help you not be so isolated. Everyone deserves to have friendships, to love, and have meaningful relationships. I understand wanting to be protected and keeping to yourself, but isolation combined with life stress can often be a breeding ground for the nightmares. When is the last time you felt like yourself?”

“When I was with Skylar last weekend. I want to do everything I can to protect her, to make sure she lives an amazing life. I’ve even told Maggie I want them to move back to Sacramento so I can be closer to my daughter. When I’m with Skylar, and she’s smiling, enjoying the life I worked so hard to protect, I know it was all worth it. Skylar gives me purpose.”

“That makes me so happy to hear, Logan. If and when she moves closer, I think that will be good for you. I want to give you some homework, and I want to see you next month.”

“Okay,” I say, intrigued.

“I want you to keep a notepad by your bed, and the next time you wake up with nightmares, write down everything you feel in that moment and bring it to your next session so we can work through it. Remember the breathing and meditation techniques we’ve discussed before. You can’t change the past and what happened wasn’t your fault. Repeat it.”

I feel stupid saying it but maybe I’ll eventually believe my words.

“We have a support group that meets every Thursday evening over at the Veterans Center. I’d like to encourage you to attend. Everyone there has experienced traumatic events, war, and understand what you’re going through.”

“I might,” I say. Each time she’s suggested I attend, I’ve blown her off. In public settings, I build my walls and keep people out. I watch my surroundings. The last thing I ever want is to bring my personal issues out in the open.

She lifts her eyebrow. “It might be beneficial for you, but it’s completely up to you. I think you’re making good progress and continuing with the sessions will help until you feel better. If you ever need to chat after hours, I’m always available. Just shoot over an email, call, or text.”