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“We run a support group for wounded warriors.”
He rolled his wheelchair back and pivoted to close the door. “Not interested. Good day, gentlemen.”
I shoved my big biker boot in his doorway before he could get the door closed. “Just give me ten minutes of your time. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave.”
He sighed. “I already don’t like what you’re saying. Does that count?”
“No. You’re not the only recently discharged vet around these parts that’s having a problem jumpstarting your life.”
He wheeled around and began moving back through his house. “I’ll bet all of the rest of them have legs though. Am I right?”
I strolled in after him. “We don’t play who’s the most disabled vet games. We’re all wounded in different ways. Some wounds are just more obvious than others.”
“In that case, I’d say your major malfunction is that you’re a total fuck up nursing a hero complex. Now, why don’t you go save some damsel in distress and leave me the fuck alone?”
I dropped down onto the messy sofa across from where he came to a stop. “Why you gotta be this way, man?
Breaker came through with a huge black garbage sack, picking up beer bottles and snack food wrappers. At least he was making himself useful.
He glanced at Adam, “You don’t mind if I clear up, do you? Clutter makes me nervous as fuck.”
He gestured around the room with one arm. “Knock yourself out, boy scout. It’s not like I’m saving all my trash for posterity or anything.”
I reached down, picked up a wrapper from the floor and sniffed it. It smelled delicious, so I turned the wrapper over to read the label. “Turkey jerky, is this shit any good?” That was called an ice breaker, only it didn’t work.
“Sure. I’ll buy you a whole case if you leave now and promise to take me off your list of charity cases in need of caretaking.”
I frowned at him. “Why are you being so anti-social?”
“In case you haven’t fucking noticed, I got my legs crushed in a terrorist attack and now I can’t run and dance in the sunshine. It pisses me off.”
I frowned at the smart ass. “What the hell was your MOS, some rear-echelon non-combat position?” A vision rose in my mind of his Humvee getting blown up while traveling from one location to another.
His reply brought me up short, “Military intelligence. Any other questions, smart ass?”
I tried again. “Look, all this overt hostility can’t be good for your health. Why don’t you give our support group a chance? You never know, it might end up being just what you need to get over the hump.”
I looked at him, hopeful that he would at least give it a shot. The man looked like hell. It was pretty apparent he hadn’t showered in days. His hair had grown out a bit and was a greasy mess on his head. He was quickly growing a shabby beard. Everything about him gave the appearance of self-neglect.
He replied woodenly, “What can I say or do to get you to leave my home and never come back?”
“Nothing. I have a feeling you need the support of fellow vets who are suffering from PTSD.”
“Yeah, because misery loves company, right?”
After a brief pause, I tried a different angle. “Maybe they need your dry, wry sense of humor. Would you really turn me down, knowing you might have been the voice of reason that kept a fellow vet from putting a bullet in his head?”
“Me minding my own business seems kind of selfish when you put that particular spin on it.”
“It’s not a spin if it’s true,” I shot back. Clearly this man had no idea how tenacious I could be.
A short silence spun out between us. When he spoke again I knew that tenacious or not, I’d lost this battle.
“Look, I respect what you’re trying to do here. I just need time to work this shit out on my own. Get your battle buddy and hit the road.”
When I didn’t immediately answer he added. “I heard your motorcycles pull up. Must be nice to ride the open roads. It’s one of the hundred and one things I’ll never be able to do again. And that’s why you’ll never understand what it’s like to be me. Vets aren’t all the same, so assuming your group has what I need is the height of fucking arrogance.”
I scratched behind my neck, getting more uncomfortable by the minute. “Can I at least check in with you every now and then, just to be sure you don’t change your mind?”
