I grab the notepad and scribble off a note, then turn it towards him.
He reads it out loud. “What makes you think I want to talk to you fuckers?”
Joel chuckles. “You still got your voice, Ed. Don’t retreat inside yourself.”
He leans in. “Listen, I’m thinking of starting up this thing.” He rubs the stubble on his beard. “I been thinking about it for a while, ever since I got out.”
The Navy honorably discharged Joel two years ago when his wife got sick. He was the best commander in the field. I trusted him with my life. It’s no mean feat to lead a team of hardened Navy SEALs, and Joel’s the only commander that earned my respect. He loved the battle; he loved being a part of it. He’d be the first out leading his mean from the front.
But he gave it all up without hesitation when his wife got cancer. He came back to Hope, to his family, and nursed her through the last months of her life.
“I’ve been doing some work with the Veterans Association in Charlotte.”
I nod my head. Since I can’t speak, I’ve become a good listener.
“The VA is great. But I’ve been tossing around ideas of other ways to help. I’ve been doing some work with veterans on the mountain. But I want something more permanent. There are a lot more people I could reach.”
That’s Joel for you, always thinking of how he can help.
“I’m still getting my plan together, but I might have some work coming in soon that I need some guys for.” He leans in, and I get the full Joel stare.
But if he’s thinking of me, then he’s not thinking straight.
Two weeks ago, I was on a top secret mission in Columbia, a place where the US military should not have been. Now I’m at the funeral of my best friend with my jaw wired shut, unsure if I’ll ever speak again. My career is over, and I’ve lost my best friend. My only friend.
I grunt. Joel deserves a grunt.
“You don’t have to say anything yet.” He chuckles at his own joke, and my scowl deepens. “Get yourself fixed up. Find your voice, then let’s talk.”
I may never talk again, is what the doctor told me. The shrapnel from the explosion got me on the left side of my face. My body is fine. I’m in one piece. My legs work, my arms are okay now that the swelling has gone down. But I took the hit on my jaw. My first reconstructive surgery is next week. Then they’ll see if my tongue can strengthen and repair itself enough for me to talk.
Fuck that. No one needs to hear me speak. I’ve just lost my career, the only thing I was good at, and I’ve lost my best buddy. Who the fuck do I need to talk to?
My gaze catches on the swish of a skirt. I turn too late and find Avery standing before us. Joel stands up, and I’m two beats behind him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Joel says.
I stand up too quick, and my big ugly mug catches on the end of the tray of sausage rolls. The plate clatters to the ground, and sausage rolls fall with soft thuds on the vinyl floor.
Avery covers her mouth with her hand as the entire room stops to stare at us.
Fucking great.
I duck to the floor at the same time she does, and our bodies collide. She bounces off me, and on instinct I shoot my arm out to catch her. I grip her around the waist and catch her from falling to the floor.
She stares up at me, her mouth in a perfect surprised ‘O.’
She wears her hair pulled back into a bun with wispy strands framing her face. Her raw beauty enhanced by a thin layer of make-up.
Sorry.
The word forms in my mind, but all that comes out is a grunt. An animalistic grunt that matches the beast I’ve become.
She frowns in confusion, and her gaze shifts from my eyes to my swollen cheek and the pieces of wire poking out between my cracked lips. I close my lips around my tin gums and my mouth slants to the side, deformed and hideous.
I can’t bear to watch Avery’s gaze turn to pity. I set her abruptly on the floor and turn away.
I should stick around to pick up the sausage rolls, but I can’t bear to be around Avery any longer. I don’t deserve to be here with her family, grieving. I don’t deserve their hospitality, and I sure as hell don’t deserve her pity.
