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He shoved his hands in his pockets and we headed downstairs.
“I’d just rather puke in my own bathroom. You know how it is,” I said with a laugh.
Good Lord, Cindy. How are you this bad at being a person?
We pulled up in front of my sister’s apartment building and I opened the door to get out of the car.
“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” I said.
“No worries. We should do it again some time.”
I knew he couldn’t possibly mean that, but I nodded, climbed out of the car, and closed the door. Luke waited until I was inside before driving away. Once safely inside, I threw myself onto my bed and shoved a pillow over my head, trying to think about anything except making an ass of myself in front of Luke.
I think I told him I loved him.
Fuck me.
The next week,I barely left the apartment. If I went for a run, I went early in the morning before anyone was up, to further minimize my chances of running into Luke. I wasn’t even sure if he ran. But I didn’t want to find out.
But my sister wouldn’t let me hide forever. Stephanie barged into my room without knocking.
“What’s going on? I thought things were getting better,” she exclaimed.
“They are. I’m fine.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No, they’re not. You’re being a hermit again.”
“I don’t feel like being social.”
“I can let that slide. But you also haven’t felt like taking care of yourself.”
I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.
“Cindy. Real talk,” she started. “I’ve been really worried about you since you’ve been back. At first I thought you were just kind of getting used to a new place. But now I’m worried that you might be depressed. Or maybe… you know…”
I did know. She wanted to say PTSD.
“Steph, I don’t have PTSD,” I told her firmly. That much I knew was true. I’d known a lot of people who came home from their time overseas traumatized. I knew what PTSD looked like. And while I was definitely having trouble adjusting to my new life outside of the military, I wasn’t suffering the way some people were.
“I still think you’re a little depressed.”
“I don’t think I’mdepressed,”I argued. I took a deep breath and tried to look a little more alert. The last thing I wanted was another day of Stephanie’s whirlwind tour of Blue Creek. Her desperate need to keep me occupied and stave off my… whatever this was… was starting to feel like day camp. Day camp with mimosas.
“Cindy—”
“I know, but I’m being productive. I promise.”
“Look, I know you don’t want to be dragged around on excursions with me anymore,” she told me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Maybe you need structure. Like, a job.”
“That’s actually what I’ve been doing.”
I pointed to my open laptop, where a half-complete job application was open on the screen.
“Really?” she asked, surprised. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
