The Marine's Return. Rula Sinara

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СКАЧАТЬ he feeling an ounce of pride at the moment?

      “Are you kidding me? Any of the plants you see here survived Roosevelt’s initial puppy years. They’ll survive anything at this point,” Hope said.

      Chad hated hearing a double meaning in everything, even when it wasn’t intended. He scratched his hair back and took a swig of tart tea.

      “I guess.”

      “You know, tossing that ball is good for you. I know we’re setting up additional physical therapy now that you’re here—ah, don’t argue about that right now—but really, there’s a lot you can do on your own. Though maybe we should put up a small soccer goal, just so that you don’t torture that tree when your skills sharpen,” she teased.

      Chad grinned. Leave it to his mom to get a smile out of him. He actually appreciated that she didn’t shy away from the facts.

      “How’d you guess the tree was my target?”

      “That’s classified information.”

      “Right.” A brief laugh escaped him. Roosevelt came running back with a rubber bone. “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure I threw a ball.”

      “Who knows how many toys are hidden out there. I’m beginning to think your father hides them just so he can have an excuse to buy more,” Hope said.

      It had taken forever for Ben to give in to the “free” puppy Maddie had brought home for Philip when he was still in high school. He’d seen how devastating it could be for a marine to lose his canine—his friend had lost his dog in battle, a dog named Wolf, back when Ben had lost his wife, Zoe.

      For years, Ben had refused to get a family dog, out of fear of reliving that kind of pain. But Roosevelt had been a blessing since day one and, once Philip had left for college, Ben had ended up bonding with the dog.

      Chad took the bone and tried tossing it Frisbee style. This time it veered left and landed mid-yard.

      “I don’t want to deal with physical therapists anymore. I worked with them long enough before coming home. It’s not helping.”

      “You have to give it time.”

      “It’s not doing anything.”

      “Chad, you have to try. You won’t get better by sitting around here. You have to have physical training. I’m not just saying this as your mother. I know this as a doctor.”

      “Get better? Have you looked at me? I won’t ever ‘get better.’ That implies a full recovery. That’s a physical impossibility for me.”

      His pulse pounded at his temples and his eyes burned. He hated feeling cornered. The pressure everyone had been putting on him to get up and take action, as if he was lazy or wallowing in self-pity, was as irritating as the scars that still itched relentlessly. This wasn’t about self-pity. This was about everyone thinking they knew what he was going through. But they didn’t know what he needed. No one could.

      His mom pressed her fingers to her eyes. Roosevelt stood with his bone in his mouth, waiting. He looked between the two of them. The dog’s tail slowed to a pitiful pace. Chad stared at him but made no move to play. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or frustration, but this feeling that tightened his chest and squeezed at his throat whenever anyone insisted he should make an effort to get better paralyzed him.

      Roosevelt let out a short whimper then dropped the bone and settled at Chad’s feet.

      “Do you really want to know what I see when I look at you?”

      Hope laced her fingers and tucked them in her lap. She paused and the way her dark brown eyes glistened pinched at his conscience. He didn’t want to hurt her. He really didn’t. Hope had always been the glue for their family. She was the voice of reason...the heart and soul of their family. She’d essentially saved them all from spiraling down and falling apart after Zoe’s death.

      But there wasn’t anything to save now. Sure, he was alive, but she couldn’t change the fact that he’d never be the same again. That the future he’d always envisioned would never happen.

      All he’d ever wanted was to be a marine. To fight the bad guys and rise in the ranks. To avenge the death of everyone he’d lost in life. To try to extinguish evil so that the rest of his family could have safe, long lives. He wasn’t unreasonable. He knew he couldn’t stop death altogether or keep random accidents from happening. But he could pick the worst of the worst and stop them from terrorizing the world. That’s why he’d joined the marines.

      He’d never considered settling into civilian life, let alone trying to map out a new future without his mind and body whole.

      Hope put a hand on his knee.

      “I see Chad. I see you as the rambunctious, overactive toddler I first met. I see you as the incorrigible, confident, adrenaline-loving teen. I see the valiant, focused and proud-to-follow-in-his-father’s-footsteps man you were when you joined the marines. I see you, Chad.

      “I know you too well and love you too much to look at only the surface. I’ve also witnessed your inner strength and drive. The kid I raised never gave up on anything. If he had, your dad and I may have held out a few more years before getting gray hairs. These injuries? They’re obstacles, yes. But they’re not you.”

      He sucked in a sharp breath.

      “That’s where you’re wrong, Mom. These injuries...what happened to me and the memory of it...they are me now. We’re the sum of our experiences. Aren’t we?”

      She hugged her arms around her waist and glanced up at the cloudless sky. She couldn’t answer because he was right. She took a deep breath and held it for a fraction of a second before letting it go.

      “Have you ever considered that your mama Zoe was your guardian angel on the day of the explosion? That she’s the reason you’re alive? Because that would be a gift. A gift from her. Not a punishment. You’re right that we’re the sum of our experiences. But we hold those experiences in our minds...in our souls...not our bodies.”

      Chad gritted his teeth and shot up, his thigh bumping into his glass of tea. The glass tipped over and broke, causing the dog to startle and jump up onto all fours.

      Hope’s hand flew to her chest for a brief second before she moved to clean up the glass.

      “Don’t worry. I’ll get this,” she said, setting her own tea down on the far side of the steps.

      He didn’t miss the quiver in her voice. A part of him cared; a part of him didn’t. Heat washed through him and that sharp phantom pain shot through his missing arm again. He dug his nails into the back of his neck.

      “Don’t. Stop trying to fix things. I’m not broken glass. You can’t just pick up the pieces. You know what people do with shattered glass? They sweep it up and toss it in the trash. I love you, Mom, but you don’t get it. You can’t come even close to understanding what it’s like to be me right now. Don’t you dare tell me my body doesn’t matter.”

      With that, he stormed back in the house, trying hard to ignore the breathless sobs and clinking of glass shards he left in his wake.

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