Author's note: All characters in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarities to people you might know is pure coincidence. All sexually active people are over 18.
Sitting in the discharge room at Walter Reed Medical Center, I was shaking, but far less than the previous day. Each day I was practicing for my release, at the end of this week.
I am Richard Wells, and I have been here for nearly 8 months. The first 6 weeks were spent recovering from the wounds received when the APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) I was riding in, along with the other 11 members of my squad was blown off the road by an ear splitting explosion. What a way to end my 7 year career in the Army. I was a 26 year old, vet who now had to figure out how to live, again, if that was even possible.
After my physical wounds healed, then came the really difficult part. Why, I asked over and over, did 11 brave soldiers, lose their lives in Afghanistan, and I am sitting here in relatively good physical condition? This was the question than no medical person could answer, to my satisfaction. No my primary Doctors, not my shrink, and not my physical therapist.
Each day of my last week, there, I would gather up my 6'7" frame, get my 235 pound bulk moving, and see if I could make my way down the hall, without breaking into a series of violent shakes.
Monday, not even close.
Tuesday, a few steps closer.
Wednesday, just an arms length away, leaving me with one of the first smiles on my face in months.
Thursday, I opened the door, stepped through, smiled, and slowly went back inside. I was met by Dr Miller, my shrink, who, without her help, I would still be curled up in a ball in a corner.
Standing a little over 5' tall she gave be a huge smile and threw her arms around my chest. If she wasn't happily married, and older than my mother, I would have invited her back to my room. Don't for one minute think I didn't give it some serious consideration, anyway.
On Friday, I was met the entrance of my room by Dr Miller, my PT genious, and several others who helped me out of my abyss. With my shoulder length red hair neatly done up in a pony tail, and my equally red beard, trimmed neatly, too, I just couldn't hold back my emotions. Everyone moved around me, telling me they were all just a phone call away, and giving me a complete list of resources to be found at the VA hospital, in South Seattle.
I had made plans to move into a small house in one of the suburbs of Seattle, owned by friends of my parents, and far enough from where I grew up, just outside of Kansas City, Kansas. The 2 or 3 times we visited these friends, as a kid, I always liked the Seattle area.
Stepping off the plane at Sea-Tac Airport. I made way to baggage claim, finding my suitcase, and headed for the door to call the man who was going to be my landlord, until I could find enough money to purchase this house. It was just about a 30 minute ride to where I would be living. Alvin showed me all around the house. which came furnished, showing me more than I could have expected.
Two nice sized bedrooms, plus a smaller room, that was more than adequate to use as my office, for my consulting business I was about to start. A nicely remodeled kitchen, which meant I should learn how to cook, and all the things my parents had shipped ahead of my arrival.
Getting my things unpacked, and learning the lay of the land, took up most of the rest of the following week. After an entire week of getting settled, I set up a small workout area in my back yard. I noticed the house next to me where there was a couple in their late 30's early 40's and a daughter, who appeared about 12 or 13. Just a wisp of a thing, but you have to remember my prospective, standing 6'7" and now weighing about 240.
I needed to work out, both to lose a few pounds and to keep my mind occupied. I purchased a weight set and bench, and began, slowly building up a steady routine. I noticed the little girl watching me, each time I was lifting. As she would wave, and say hello, to me, I would politely nod back.
"Can I come over and watch you work out?" she asked, sounding older than she looked.
Remembering what Dr Miller told me, time and time again, it was time to embrace other human beings.
"Sure, come on over." I replied.
She came into my back yard, saying her name was Patricia Ann Morrison. But you can call me Patsy, she offered. She stood all of 5' and an inch, or so, and maybe weighed 100, or 105, with rocks in her pockets. Cute as a button, but really young looking.
As I stood, to greet her, she just sort of stared at my size. I asked what school she was attending, and her answer floored me.
"I'm starting Seattle University, in the fall."
I must have had the most shocked look on my face, as she quickly told me she would be 19, in a few months.
As I moved back, just sitting on my weight bench, Patsy noticed a few of my scars on my arms, and one on my neck.
"Are you OK, Rick," as I asked her to call me. I just nodded, and told her I was getting better, each day. "If you want to talk, I'm a pretty good listener," she offered.
"Thanks, but you don't need to hear my war stories," I said, quietly.
"My goal is to be a Psychiatrist, some day," she told me, "so maybe I can just listen."
Jokingly, I asked if she wanted to lift weights, with me, causing us both to laugh. I realized I hadn't laughed in such a long time, I forgot how it felt, being happy.
The time moved by quickly, with my security consulting business picking up steam, and the nice weather giving me an excuse to go walking around my neighborhood. On occasion, Patsy would ask if she could join me, and I begrudgingly agreed. I just needed the company. Walking together, we must have been quite a sight.
Each day, we would do more talking, than walking. She might have been this tiny, little cutie, but her smarts made her seem like a mini Dr Miller. Some day she would make a great shrink. I told her just that.
We asked each other about boy/girl friends, with me admitting that a relationship wasn't high on my to do list. I still had a lot of mental healing to get done. She told me she had a boy friend, but they broke up when he tried getting into her panties, and got pissed, when she said no!
"Good for you," I said, stick to your guns, kiddo, I grinned.
With about two weeks before Patsy was to start college, remotely, at first, her parents, who I got to know, better, asked me to dinner, one evening.
