Page 85 of No Fear

“Yes. Thanks. Who told you I was hurt?” he asked.

“Your mom told my mom who told me. I saw your folks before I left. They’re worried, Donnie.”

“I don't want to tell them yet.” His voice was a little more sharp than he intended.

“I won't tell them because you should. But I need to call them. I promised I would.” Charlie was handling this very calmly, but his mom would fall apart if she knew the truth. He couldn't handle that. Not yet.

“I’ll call later. You can talk to them then. Where are you staying?” he changed the subject.

“Erm...not exactly worked that out yet. Came here from the airport.”

She really had jumped straight on a plane and come to him. He loved that she cared that much. That kind of worry was more than friends. And God, how he wanted more than friends. But not now. He was not going to be a burden to Charlie or anyone.

“So, can you tell me anything about what happened?” Her voice sounded really close. Then he heard her place cups on the table.

He sighed and reached out, feeling for the coffee cup. He found it and took a sip before replying.

“My team were tracking our target. We’d spread out to surround him. We didn’t know he was wearing a suicide vest. He clicked it off. I was closest. It blew me off my feet, and when I landed, my head hit a rock and I passed out. I woke up in the hospital. Blind.”

Charlie’s hand covered his. “I’m so sorry. Are the rest of your team OK?” Her voice held shock and concern.

“Yes. They’re fine.”

“Is that... normal? I mean... what you were doing? Suicide vests?”

Donnie sipped more coffee, Charlie’s hand still on his.

“We’re a special operations team. It’s always dangerous. And yes, there can be suicide vests among other things.”

“Have you ever been hurt badly before?”

“I’ve been shot once. A couple of small knife wounds. I guess I was lucky up till now.”

“Lucky?” Charlie scoffed. “I don’t call being shot and stabbed lucky.”

“In our line of work, injuries are a given, but my team are the best in the world. We know how to protect ourselves, but once in a while, things go to shit.” Donnie turned his head toward her, even though he couldn't see her. “I have to say, you are taking this all very calmly.”

“I wouldn't say I’m calm. But I’ve learned over the years to try and focus on the here and now. Living in fear, worrying, is wasted energy. You can’t see, but you are still healing. I refuse to spend this time scared about what might happen if it’s permanent because we don’t know if that's true yet.”

“I don’t remember you being a glass half full kind of girl.”

“I wasn't back in high school. Being bullied doesn’t make you feel very optimistic about life. When Nate died, I got really down for a bit, and my folks made me ...”

When she paused, he prompted, “Made you what?”

“I was serious in Toronto, when I said I had a therapist. I know it’s lame. But the bullying, Nate’s death. It was a lot. Therapy helped. I started looking at things differently. Tried living in the moment instead of in ‘what if’ land.”

She hadn't said it, but his leaving had probably added to her suffering.

“I’m sorry for what you went through at school. And I’m sorry if my leaving contributed to how you were feeling. Seeing a therapist isn’t lame. I see one regularly.”

“You do?” The surprise in her voice made him smile.

“Yeah. Even big bad Navy SEALs need a little help. With what we do, it can take its toll, mentally. After every mission we see a therapist to talk and get cleared to continue to operate.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“There have been too many men and women who have taken their own lives after serving because they can't deal with what they've seen or done. The military made it mandatory a while back for us to have regular psych evaluations. At first, we all scoffed at it. But now we see the benefit and we don't complain. In fact, I know some guys that go voluntarily for more sessions. It’s not lame and nothing to be embarrassed about.”