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I knew when I left it would take a toll on them, and part of me felt guilty for not being happier about being back, but the truth was, I had no idea how to place my feelings anymore. They had been steamrolled by the things I’d seen over there. I wasn’t sure how I was going to sleep at night with what I had pushed down inside. I wondered what would happen when it all began to come to the surface.
“Ms. Dorothy dropped off some of her famous bread,” Mom started up again. “She knows how much you love her walnut bread.”
“That was nice.” I leaned my head back and counted down the minutes until I saw our driveway. I was finally home.
I dragged my heavy bag out of the back seat and swung it over my shoulder then looked around at the old place. A few of Dad’s crazy, hippy-looking chickens clucked away around my feet. The goats gathered at the fence, probably hoping for a handout. I reached out and patted a few on the head. They said animals could sense people’s emotions. I was curious to know what they sensed from me. Most likely nothing, as I was pretty empty inside right now.
“They missed ya. They were always your favorite.” Dad nodded at the goats. “I bet they’re glad you’re back, too.”
“Mm.” I rubbed one’s ears.
“Take your time, son. Come in when you’re ready.” Dad waited a beat then took my mother’s arm and drew her toward the house. I couldn’t hear their words, but the tone of Dad’s voice and my mother’s backward glance told me he was probably asking her to be patient. I hated to hurt her, but I couldn’t bring myself to pretend I wasn’t tapped out.
I dropped my bag at the step and decided to walk the farm in hopes it would spark some good feelings. The pond was one of my favorite places to sit. I liked to watch the ducks paddle around the water, their butts to the sky in their constant search for food. Bending down, I leaned against the big tree and zoned out. I tried not to, but I glanced down at the one spot that did bring a little surge of something through me, but as quickly as it came, I forced it away. That was a dead end. I couldn’t let it in. I was a different person than I was when I left, and I had no right to even pretend I could have it back.
A rabbit jumped out of the tall grass and began to chew on some bushes. When he sensed me, he froze, and his ears gave a little twitch as he looked right at me, almost as if he didn’t know whether to be afraid of me or not. I gave a little wave, and it shot back into the grass and disappeared as fast as it came.
“I get that a lot.” I gave a little huff.
The sun had started to set as I headed back toward the house. I didn’t need to worry my parents any more than I already had by being late for dinner. Mom had outdone herself, as I knew she would, and the meal was very tasty. She had made all my favorites. I worked hard to keep my head on the positive things. Mom’s homecooked food was a huge plus. Our farm’s cold well water was even better than I remembered. Dad handed me a beer, and I accepted it with a smile. Then Mom served me a huge slice of her apple pie. I was stuffed, but I knew from the hopeful look in her eyes she needed me to have a slice, so I took it and picked up a dessert fork and immediately dug into it.
My parents were the most amazing people a son could ask for. I knew I was lucky to have them. I also knew that some of the men who had come back returned to face empty homes with no one to support them or make them welcome.
“Thanks, Mom. That was perfect.” I squeezed her hand and saw tears well up in her eyes. “I couldn’t have asked for a better meal.”
“I’m so happy to hear that.” She leaned in and hugged me with a sniff. The emotion in the room was as thick as the slice of apple pie.
“It’s really good to have you home.” Dad blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Well,” he stood, “go get some rest. It’s late, and I have the kids to deal with tomorrow.” He referred to the animals. “If you need anything, you know where to find us.”
“Yes, off with you.” Mom waved her apron at me. “I’ll clean these things up. I need to keep busy.” She shooed me away as I tried to carry some things to the counter.
“Okay. Night, then, and thanks again, Mom.” I put the dishes down, gave her a hug, then went upstairs to my room.
Exhausted, I didn’t even unpack. I just put my clothes on the chair, splashed a bit of water over my face, and brushed my teeth. I never even turned on a light. I fell into bed and shut my eyes. As soon as I began to drift off, I was carried back into the hell that kept me captive whenever I fell asleep.
General Edison Logan
Iknew that look, the demons that rested behind the eyes of those who had fought, killed, and watched their brothers fall. When I returned home from my time in war, we were heroes. We were proud of our service in spite of all we’d gone through, but my son looked like a dead man walking. It made me sick. It was a lot to carry in your early twenties.
“He didn’t sleep again last night.” Meg glanced over at me from above her reading glasses. She looked just as worried as I did. His nightmares had a pretty good hold on him. Some nights we had to wake him from his screams, but others we let him ride them out. Both of us were unsure which was better. “It’s been three weeks, Ed. I think it’s time to check in.”
“I think so, too.” I glanced at the dinner plate that sat in his spot and kissed my wife’s head. “We’ll get through this, my love. I promise.”
“I know.” She squeezed my hand. “I know.”
I waited for Meg to settle into her usual spot by the fireplace and watched as she cracked open the newest book by her beloved author. I smiled as she sipped her tea and prepared to lose herself in another world, destined to have a happy ending.
I tugged back the curtain a bit and saw the telltale beam of light in the barn that gave up his position. I was determined to give my Meg and our son the same happy outcome her book promised. I slipped on my boots and sweater and made my way across the field, patting the goats as they rushed over for a head scratch.
“Are you watching over our Daniel?” I asked one of the babies as I scratched its knobby little head. “Good boy.” I scooted the chickens away from the door and poked my head inside to find Daniel dripping in sweat, knuckles raw and a demon on his shoulder.
He tossed two punches, ducked, and tossed three more, finishing off with a kick. He repeated the moves six more times before he felt me watching him.
“I’m fine, Dad.”Punch, punch, punch.
“You’re not the one I’m concerned about,” I lightly joked as I came around and inspected the punching bag. It had seen better days. “You need to get out, see some friends, meet some girls.”
“I will, but…” He moved into a different kickbox sequence but was interrupted by a chicken who had slipped inside with me before I could shut the door. He scooted it away from his feet and continued his moves.
