Chapter 15
Fisher’s Therapy Journal
Memory Date: April 8, 2014 – 9:12 PM
Bobby is yelling at me, but I have no idea what he’s saying. I can see his mouth moving, his arms flailing all over the place, but the only thing I hear is the sound of Lucy’s cries from this afternoon. They echo through my brain, piercing my skull and forcing me take another drink just to try and quiet them. Everything is fuzzy and the room spins so quickly I don’t know how I haven’t fallen off the fucking chair I’m sitting on. I just want to go home. I want to go to our little yellow house on the water and tell her it was all lies. I want to crawl into bed with her and touch her face and tell her I didn’t mean any of it. Then I look over Bobby’s shoulder and see a group of insurgents holding their guns at us and I realize I can never do that.
“Go away. Just go the fuck away and leave me alone!” I shout.
I’m talking to the assholes standing behind Bobby with guns pointed as us, but Bobby thinks I’m talking to him and he walks away.
I need another drink. The drunker I get, the harder it is to focus on the swirling images around the bar that keep morphing into the enemy.
“You look like you could use another drink.”
I sway a little to the side when I hear a female voice right in my ear. Maybe it’s Lucy. Maybe she ignored everything I said to her and came back to me. I know it’s wrong and she shouldn’t be here, but I just need her right now. I can see her one more time and then I’ll walk away.
Looking down at the table, I watch as a glass of whiskey is placed in front of me. I grab it before someone takes it away and chug the entire thing, slamming the glass back down on the table.
“I’m sorry, I love you,” I slur as I reach my hands out to Lucy, grab onto her hips and pull her onto my lap.
She doesn’t feel the same and she doesn’t smell the same, but none of that matters. Her legs straddle my thighs and I clutch onto her ass, pulling her closer so she doesn’t change her mind and leave me.
“Please don’t go, I’m sorry,” I mumble brokenly as I rest my head on her shoulder.
“I’m not going anywhere, sugar, don’t you worry.”
I don’t like her voice. It’s not the same soft, sweet cadence that always makes my ears tingle and my heart beat fast. It’s probably because my heart died and there’s nothing inside my chest but a shriveled up, useless organ. This voice is shrill and annoying. Lucy is changing right before me, but I don’t care. It’s my fault, anyway. It’s my fault she’s different and doesn’t feel the same or smell the same. I changed her, I hurt her…all my fault.
I lift my head and try to focus on her eyes, but all I see are blurry images and swirling faces.
She rocks her hips against me and my dick is instantly hard for her, just like it always is. I want to be inside of her. It’s the only place where I truly exist and can forget about the things I’ve done.
I feel her tongue trace against my bottom lip and something makes me want to pull away. She doesn’t taste the same and I hate it. I want my Lucy, not this drunken, morphed version of her.
I hear a strangled cry from somewhere in the distance and I turn my head towards the sound. I have no idea what it was or where it came from. Maybe it’s the enemy trying to trick me. They’re probably here right now, just waiting to take me down. I don’t care anymore, they can have me. They can shoot my body full of bullets and it would probably be a relief at this point. It would stop the pounding headache, put an end to the shakes wracking my body and make it all go away. I don’t want to hurt anymore, I don’t want to be confused anymore, I don’t want any of it. I want to die from the pain and I want to scream at them to just do it already, just end it. I try to open my mouth to let the screams and the shouts empty out, but I feel Lucy’s tongue against my lips again and I focus on that instead. I turn my head away from whoever is standing next to us and squeeze my eyes open and closed to try and see her. She’s in my lap, in my arms where she belongs, and I never want to let her go. I tell the person standing there to go away because I’m busy with Lucy and they need to leave me the hell alone.
I hear angry shouts and the shuffling of feet and the Lucy on my lap speaks again and it makes me wince. I want to tell her to stop talking like that. Stop talking in a different voice, stop smelling different, stop feeling different…just stop it. Be MY Lucy. I need MY Lucy.
Someone calls me an asshole and I can’t help but laugh. I am an asshole. And a monster and a fuck up and a nightmare all rolled into one piece of shit package and I’m glad they finally noticed, so I tell them that. I’m not a hero, I’m not a good man, I’m not a good husband…I am none of those things and they need to see that.
I need another drink. I push Lucy off of my lap and stumble up from the chair. Her hands wrap around my arms to steady me, but I push her away. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’s not even supposed to be here.
Shoving my way through the crowd of people, I head towards the door and smack my hands against the wood to open it. I step outside and nothing but the hot, dry desert stretches out in front of me. I start walking, knowing I need to make it back to camp. I shouldn’t be out here alone. Why in the fuck am I out here alone? A Marine should always be with his platoon in case the enemy ambushes us. I can feel sweat dripping down my back and my legs start to ache the further I walk through the unforgiving desert sand. I just have to make it back to camp. As long as there aren’t any surprise attacks, I’ll be fine.
A man suddenly appears in front of me and I’m so startled at the sight of someone else out here in the lonely desert with me that I pull my arm back and let my fist fly right into his face.
“DO NOT GET IN MY WAY! I NEED TO GET BACK TO CAMP!”
I start running then, but it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Each time my foot hits the ground it sinks deeper and deeper into the sand until my legs start to burn with the effort of moving. I stop suddenly when I see an IED sitting on the ground right at my feet. I quickly scan the area and, when I don’t see anything or anyone, I snatch it up in my hands and throw it as hard as I can. I hear a crash and the sound of glass breaking. It doesn’t make sense. There isn’t any glass in the desert. The IED should have exploded as soon as I threw it. I don’t care; I did what I was supposed to. I got that damn thing out of the way so the rest of my team won’t happen upon it by mistake. I can’t lose anyone else on my team, I can’t.
It’s a long, tireless walk back to camp and I happen upon quite a few enemies as I go, but I take them all out quickly and efficiently, just like I was taught. I can’t find my gun, but luckily, I’m just as good at hand-to-hand combat as I am with a firearm. I hear myself screaming and shouting as I go, especially when there are so many people suddenly cropping up in the desert with me. They look at me funny, they point and stare and I don’t understand what they’re doing. If they are on my side, they should be helping me, not standing there doing nothing.
I yell at all of them, tell them to get their asses moving. I shout so many obscenities and threats that it has all of them cowering in fear. Good! They should be afraid of me. I’m a motherfucking Marine in the middle of a war.
I turn away from them to keep moving and something as hard as a rock slams into my face. I try to shake away the pain, but it just makes the world around me tilt on its axis. I sway to the side and my feet stumble. I feel myself falling, down, down, down, and right when I think I’m going to hit the ground, arms wrap around me to keep me from crashing. I close my eyes and let the world fade away, saying Lucy’s name over and over, hoping that she hears me.