Marred Beauty

Chapter Two

Arriving home, I immediately take a shower. After that, I pull on a pair of white capris and a long t-shirt, while my hair air dries. With some already made egg salad, I make a sandwich and head out to the porch, Baxter is happy being outdoors with me. Sitting in the rocker with my plate settled in my lap, I take in the view. The buzz of the late evening air amazes me. It's almost dark out, but I can still make out the ripples of the water to the lake that looks like a picture perfect painting. I breathe in the fresh air.

The wooded area is off to my left. I don't think I'll ever venture there. But this cabin is heaven. There is a dock that leads out into the water and I'm excited to stand there one night, looking off into the distance, nursing a beer, but tonight, I am too tired to make the trek.

It's late in the summer. Families that vacation here are mostly gone. So the sereneness of this place makes me feel a sense of peace. Yet, I can feel the loneliness lying beneath it all.

Continuing to eat my sandwich, I think about the day, Drake Harmon comes to mind, with his perfect white teeth, his perfect body and perfect skin. He is tall and brooding. Fucking perfect. I decide that I don't like him. But that only lasts all of five minutes when I see him approaching the cabin, carrying something.

"How'd you know where I live?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"Well, when I saw you walking this way, I knew the cabins were in this direction." He steps onto the porch. "My momma makes enough food for an army. Thought I'd bring some over. It's baked ziti."

I take the glassware dish from him. "Thanks. Do you want to come in and eat with me?"

"No, ma'am. I already ate." He waves me off as he steps back down. "I just thought I'd bring you some food."

"Tell your Momma thanks for me."

"I will. See you tomorrow."

"See you," I reply, and watch him walk away.

No. There is no way I can dislike Drake. He's been nothing but nice to me. Maybe tomorrow I'll dislike him. Darkness starts to fall, so I move inside and put away the ziti. I'll have it tomorrow.

With fresh sheets on the bed and Baxter at my feet, I settle in.

A roadside bomb goes off, and dirt flies everywhere. I struggle to breathe and to see. Who else is hurt? The Humvee is blasted, throwing me out of the vehicle. Before anyone can reach for me, the Humvee goes up in flames. Fire blasts in my face and on my body. Shrapnel injects all over me, leaving me in an excruciating amount of pain.

Someone pulls me away from the blast. My body feels lifeless. I'm dead. It feels like I'm dead. I'd rather be dead.

I wake up in a hospital in Germany.

My face is numb, and it's bandaged up on the side. Parts of my body is damaged from the blast and bandaged as well. They said it would take time to heal. But I know, scars last forever.

I'd been through enough in the war that I wanted an out, and this was my out. My injuries were severe enough to leave the army. Most folks I knew would have a hard time leaving their comrades behind, but, to me, they were just as bad as the enemy. I only had one friend, and his name was Jason. He looked out for me after I was raped by a few of my fellow comrades. Unfortunately, he didn't find me until after. I couldn't understand my own people doing this to me. But it exists, there, out in the open.

Still, tears fall from my eyes at the reality that stands before me. The war zone was the only home I had known. My parents died while I was in Iraq. The house we lived in burnt down, with them in it. And now, I have no one. No home. Nothing. I am nothing.

With my hair tucked into a tight bun, I head to the only place I knew I wanted to visit. New Orleans. Maybe I could find a home there. Maybe I could just slip under the radar and no one would notice.

But with every stare, I had to relive that day. The blast both saved my life and scarred me for life. There was no win-win situation. But I had to find my will to live, otherwise maybe I would have been better off dead.

Baxter nudges me and I wake with a start. My heart races at a rapid speed. Realizing I'm safe, I try to slow my breaths. I pet Baxter reassuring him I'm okay. He's my service dog. I got through a program with the VA Hospital. He helps with my severe PTSD and my anxiety.

Glancing out the window, it's still dark. The nightmares come most nights. Getting up out of bed, I fan myself from the night sweats. While I try to slow my fast beating heart, I move to start unpacking my duffle bag, putting clothes away. I remind myself that I need to go shopping for clothes and other necessities. Grabbing a blanket, I move to the couch, while Baxter lays on the floor. I try to get some sleep before I have to go to work.

***

A few hours later, I wake and get ready for work in my black uniform shirt and black khaki pants. I tuck my hair into a messy bun, even though my shift doesn't start for another three hours yet. I am groggy and exhausted from the nightmare I had last night. They never go away. Some vary from the real situation, but, in the end, they are real to me.

Grabbing the ziti out of the fridge, I make some for breakfast. I hardly eat home cooked meals since it's only me. Dishing the rest of the food into another container, I clean the dish Drake brought over so I can return it.

Hopping in my jeep, I decide to head to the store I had seen just outside of town. Baxter trails right next to me and every so often he'll look up at me just to check on me. Suddenly I realize where I am and I'm self-conscious, aware of my surroundings. The stares are impossible to ignore. Small children pointing fingers at me because I look like a freak. I get that children are curious. However, when an adult pulls their child closer to them because they fear me. The walls of the establishment feel like they are closing in on me.

In aa hurry, I grab food for the week, a few dog toys, a doggie bed for Baxter. After making my purchases, we head home and after taking Baxter out for a short walk and I feed him and then I dig into the ziti Drake had brought over before heading to work. I wish I could take Baxter to work with me, but being that I work so close to home, it makes more sense for him to stay home, and it would probably be unsanitary if he was in a restaurant establishment with an employee. Plus, I can always go home during my lunch breaks to check on him.