Whatever (Dylan)

Whatever (Dylan)

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Okay. Yeah, reading through her emails, and seeing the heartache that poured through them… it put me in a pretty craptastic mood. I’m not usually the best at expressing myself, and even though my new therapist down at the VA has told me repeatedly that I have to let go of the guilt for killing Roberts, the fact is, what the hell does she know? Why does the VA have some non combat veteran twentysomething girl as a therapist anyway?

Whatever.

When Sherman woke up, he could tell my mood had swung wide, but he didn’t intrude, just treated it as normal. It probably was. I’ve always been pretty damn moody, and with the on-again, off-again nature of mine and Alex’s long-distance relationship, well… let’s just say I had some down times over in Afghanistan.

Maybe I needed to talk about it. With Alex, or Sherman, or someone who gave a damn. I don’t know. How do you say the words, “I’m sorry,” and have them have some meaning? You hear that crap all the time, but it’s not sufficient when it comes to heartbreak. And that’s just about all I’d accomplished in the last year: grief and heartache for other people.

Whatever. I needed to stop dwelling on all that crap. Sherman was in town, and Alex’s sister, and Alex apparently had special plans for us tonight which she’d hinted at, and I needed to just get over it, and stop ruining everyone else’s night with my own problems.

I dressed in a tight pair of jeans and black t-shirt which Alex had shown her appreciation for a week earlier by sort of … throwing herself at me. At least I think it was a hint she liked it, when she chewed on my ear. The cast made getting dressed awkward as hell, but that’s what I get for punching a wall. The hardest part was lacing up my boots, but I’d been managing it okay.

My phone chimed.  Text message from Alex.

Meet us on the green? *Hugs* Carrie wants to meet Sherman.

I messaged back:

Be there in ten. Love you.

“Come on, Weed! We got to get going.  Her sister wants to meet you.”

That was all the motivation Sherman needed to speed up. Thirty seconds later we were on our way, heading the two blocks to the green where Alex and I met every other morning.

This is first draft material from a new story I’m working on. You can find the  beginning and contents of the story, here.

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