Fisher's Light

“At the VA Hospital on the mainland,” he adds, not meeting my eyes when I stop what I’m doing and stare at him.

Well, isn’t that just a strange coincidence? A counselor who volunteers at the same hospital where Fisher spent the last year suddenly shows up at the inn when Fisher and I are having problems?

I clear my throat in irritation and Seth finally stops folding to look at me.

“I know, I should have said something when we first checked in, but I didn’t want to make you nervous,” he tells me with a soft smile.

“Definitely something you should have mentioned before I talked your ear off,” I tell him in annoyance, thinking about all the things I told him about my relationship problems with Fisher. “So, you worked with Fisher I assume?”

He nods, folding his hands in his lap. “I did. I was the only one he would work with for quite a while. Probably because I can be just as stubborn and pig-headed as he can.”

Seth laughs, but I don’t find anything about this funny, so I just cross my arms angrily. He leans forward and pats my arm.

“Now, now, don’t be cross with me, or with Fisher. He has no idea I’m here. He called the other day wanting some advice and I decided it was time to take him up on his offer to see the island,” he explains. “And to meet the woman he talked my ear off about every day for a year.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. This man knows everything about Fisher and probably myself, as well. He knows what Fisher went through the year that he was away from me and I’m sure Fisher spoke to him about a lot of things that I probably shouldn’t now about. Personal things, confidential things. Things I’m suddenly dying to know about, but I don’t feel right asking. If Fisher wanted me to know what he discussed with his counselor, he would have told me himself.

“Isn’t there some sort of doctor/client confidentiality rule you’re breaking by being here with me right now?” I ask.

Seth laughs and shakes his head. “I’m not a doctor, I’m just an old war vet myself who has nothing better to do with his time than spend my days at the VA trying to help men who were just like me.”

I nod in understanding, but I still don’t feel right talking to him about Fisher without Fisher knowing and I tell him that.

“I don’t think Fisher will be very happy knowing that you’re here, divulging personal information about him.”

Seth shrugs. “I’m sure he’s going to be a little pissed off that I’ve been here for a few days and didn’t tell him I was coming, but I plan on giving him a call later tonight and getting together with him. I wanted to spend some time alone with you before I did that. Fisher has always known that I’d want to speak to you at some point and he’s made it perfectly clear that I’m free to talk to you about anything we discussed during his stay at the hospital. He doesn’t want there to be any secrets between the two of you, but some things, well, they’re just a little hard for him to talk about on his own.”

I’m already well aware of that fact. The times we’ve talked over the last few months about what he experienced overseas were very difficult for him. He’d get choked up talking about friends he lost, he’d have to stop and take a few calming breaths when he told me about scary situations and the dreams that still haunted him to this day. I’m suddenly back to feeling horrible about pushing him away over a couple of stupid comments from a woman I despise. All of the pain he suffered, all of the tragedy he lived through and the choices he had to make to protect the freedom of people back here at home who have no idea what those men and women are living through day in and day out makes my issues and my insecurities feel small and pathetic.

“I’m not going to bore you with my opinions about Fisher’s character or how far I think he’s come since I met the ornery little shit at the hospital,” Seth explains with a smile, pulling a thick manila folder out from under the pile of towels that I didn’t even see him place there. “I think it would just be better for you to read it in his own words.”

Seth passes the folder over to me, pushing it into my hand with a smile when I reach for it tentatively. “It’s okay, it won’t bite you. When Fisher and I first started talking, he told me that he used to keep a journal when he was younger. I suggested he start doing that again. There were things that he was having a hard time remembering and I knew writing them down might help. He wanted to remember everything he’d done, even though he knew it would be hard. He understood that the only way for him to get better would be for him to relive every moment of his breakdown.”

Placing the folder in my lap, I run my palms over top of it. I’ve read his journal pages from when we were younger, and his words and the way he saw me and our relationship were nothing short of beautiful. I’m scared to death that what’s in this folder will cut me in half.

Seth gets up from the chair, resting his hand on my shoulder as he walks by. “To get to the good, sometimes you have to live through the bad.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone. Taking a deep breath, I hug the folder to my chest and get up from the table, moving into the library to curl up in a chair in the corner, next to the fireplace. With a shaking hand, I open the folder and pull out the first page, filled with Fisher’s neat, block handwriting.

I start to read and realize it’s about the day he came home from the last deployment and we had sex in the kitchen. We’ve already talked a little bit about how disappointed he was in himself for the way he behaved with me, and I did my best to convince him that he did nothing wrong. Seeing how he felt tortured that night makes me press my hand to my chest to stop the ache. He watched me sleep and traced his fingers over the bruises he’d left on my hips, crying with hate and anger at himself. He started to have a panic attack, thinking he’d hurt me and that I’d hate him and when he went to the bathroom, he had a horrible flashback.