I look out the window with mixed feelings as the plane lands in Albuquerque. I’ve missed the view of the Sandia Mountains, and my home, but I’m not supposed to be back here yet. I fucked up big time.

The stupid thing is that my deployment was almost over. If I could have just held out for another month, I would have been just fine. But I had to go and flip out like I did. I guess I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Jensen, Riley and Whitney meet me at the airport. By now, they’ve all heard the story. I called them before I had to leave Afghanistan.

“It’s bullshit that they sent you home because of this,” Jensen says, his face red with anger. “‘Medical leave?’ What the hell is that supposed to be?”

Harlow and I had had a private chat before I left, and his feelings echoed Jensen’s.

“It was a nice thing for them to do,” I tell him, with a sigh. “It makes it look voluntary. Whereas if they forced me out, it’d look worse. And they said this is just temporary. Until they can investigate and decide what to do about me. It’s not like I’ve been dishonorably discharged. Or court martialed. Under the circumstances, I think it’s more than fair.”

“But now they’re just going to try to say you have PTSD,” Jensen says. “Which we both know is bullshit. They’ll just use it as an excuse to keep you out. Look at what they tried to do to me!”

“Ramsey, don’t worry,” Riley interrupts. “We can fight this. They don’t have legal grounds to keep you out—”

“Thanks, Riley,” I tell her. “And Jensen. I appreciate your concern, and your support. But I’m pretty sure I do have PTSD.”

“You— what?”

Jensen gasps.

“Look, don’t be so surprised. You and Harlow were always asking me what’s up. I know you could tell something was different. And there’s no shame in—”

“Of course there’s no shame in it,” Jensen says. “It happens to a lot of service members. And for good reason. But what’s shameful is the way they deal with it, the way they treat it. How are you going to get around it? They’ll send you to a doctor on base who will have to report everything you say to the powers that be. You’ll be screwed. Please don’t tell him what you just told us. We can help you through this—”

“Yeah,” says Whitney, suddenly joining the conversation. “I work with some psychiatrists and psychologists at the med school. They’re completely independent from the military, and have a duty of patient privilege and confidentiality to uphold. You don’t have to tell the military you’re going to see one of them. They don’t have to know. You can just tell the military doctor whatever he wants to hear, but tell a different doctor the truth, and get some help.”

“That’s just the thing,” I tell her. “I don’t know if there is any help. They probably kick us out of the military because we’re damaged beyond repair.”

I know I sound like such a Debbie Downer, but I’ve faced the facts. So I toughen up.

“But, I mean, I’ll likely take you up on your suggestion, Whitney. Thank you. And I’ve read about it, and I do my own stuff to help control it. It was just those damn assholes pushing Pipsqueak around like that, that was my tipping point. It wasn’t right.”

I sigh.

“I know they’re our brothers, but they really shouldn’t act like that,” Jensen says. “I don’t even think what you did had anything to do with PTSD. I think they’ll just try to pin it on you as some easy out. If you ask me, Jerry and Brian deserved to get their asses kicked. And they probably know that they deserved to.”

That’s the confusing part. I’m definitely confused.

“Well, I do think I have PTSD but I do agree with you that those guys deserved to have their asses handed to them for being such douches.”

Everyone laughs. Even me. I haven’t laughed in… I can’t remember how long. Probably since I was with Monica.

Monica.

My head is spinning. She’s the last person I need to be thinking about right now. It will only add complications on top of everything else.

“I think I just need a break,” I tell them. “I can handle this. On my own.”

I see an injured look cross Jensen’s face so I add, “And with your help, which I appreciate.”

I think about Monica’s criticism, that I always put everyone else ahead of me. She was definitely right about that.

“I just need to concentrate on myself for a little while,” I tell them.

“It’s about time,” Jensen says, and everyone nods their agreement.

I pause, wondering if that’s all the news they can handle for today. But I’m sick of hiding things, keeping secrets from the people who love me.

“I actually kind… met someone,” I announce. “I guess it’s love. Or, it was love, and I’m hoping it still is.”

I hear shocked gasps, except from Whitney, who says, “I knew it!”

“What?” exclaims Riley. “When?”

“Let me guess,” says Whitney. “A little before you left for deployment. When you went on your so-called ‘spirit quest.’”

“Ooooh, la la,” Jensen teases. “I knew there was more to the story. So who is she?”

“She’s…”

It dawns on me that I’d better figure out what’s really going on with Monica and me before I out her name, for her sake as much as mine.

“She’s no one I want to discuss, yet,” I tell them.

“Come on, man, you can’t do that to us!” Jensen says.

“Can’t a man just come back from war without being badgered to death?” I ask them. They laugh, and, thankfully, drop it, at least for now.

It’s not that I think that anyone here will do anything to get Monica into trouble, but it still seems like a rather… private matter at this point.

What if she really is pregnant? I wonder.

Then I’m pretty sure the baby is mine. She told me on the phone she wasn’t seeing anyone, and I have no reason not to be believe her.

Then it hits me. I want to believe her. I want her in my life. And if she’s pregnant, I want the baby in my life. I want to take care of both of them.