His Purple Heart

39 - Barely Coping

∆ Trystan ∆

I stood at the doorway for the longest while, hesitating, wondering if I should enter or not. Wiping my sweaty hands along my jeans, I stared at her through the slightly open door, noticing that very little had changed about her. She was still beautiful, tanned Egyptian skin appearing to be as smooth as butter, her straight, charcoal black hair falling down to her breasts.

Eventually I decided to turn around and leave. I wasn't sure what I was going to say to her. She was clearly okay, and I'd made my peace at the ball. There was nothing left here.

"Don't leave," Charline said.

I stopped, my head bowed. Silence reigned and I sensed her eyes as they drilled a hole at the back of my head. "I shouldn't be here," I said. "You nearly died because of me."

"Maybe you came to apologize?" Her voice still had that smoky quality to it.

I turned around slowly. "Will that help you to forgive me?"

She patted the bed next to her legs. "Come sit."

"I shouldn't."

"Trystan, sit. You look like you just got back from a war. You have that look in your eyes."

I scoffed. "I can barely sleep without fighting a war."

"Still having nightmares I see. Does she know?"

I knew exactly who she was referring to. "Yes."

Charline gazed at me with knowing eyes. "How's therapy going?"

I shrugged, because therapy was a once in a blue moon thing when I felt the demons getting too much. And sometimes they were vicious, slashing at me from all directions, talking shit that kept my mind racing on a constant loop. It was losing my best friend in the prime of his life. It was the many lives of my platoon brothers dying way too young while we continued to fight a losing battle.

It was for Diba and her courageous smile as she faced death, while American soldiers invaded her country to bomb schools and playgrounds, often time killing unarmed women and children. All in the name of peace. It was my sister getting hit by a drunk driver after an argument with me while I was drunk as a skunk. Sometimes I wondered if she committed suicide and the driver just so happened to be drunk.

But most of all, it was failing the people I love over and over again.

"How are you feeling?" I asked instead, because I wasn't here to talk about myself.

Charline didn't seem to mind that I'd changed the subject. "As good as expected for someone who got stabbed twice by a psycho. He didn't hit anything major."

I approached the bed." I shouldn't have left you in there alone with Gonzales."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Gonzales didn't hurt me. He tried to protect me when that crazy man climbed through the window and cut his neck like a rooster for the slaughter. I can't unsee it. I passed out after that because I don't remember the second stab."

"How long do they plan on keeping you here?"

"Just a few more days."

I shifted my weight while feeling highly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"I see you're still walking around thinking that everything is your fault."

"I almost got you killed and my girlfriend is lying in a hospital bed right now because of me. I messed up. I never mess up, but ever since the IED that's all I ever do." I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering why I was even telling Charline all of this. She wasn't exactly a friend. "You know, when I woke up from that coma and my parents told me that you'd left me for another man, I grieved for you. It felt like you died."