Page 46 of Warrior's Walk
“Most of the time, my mind is solid, like a frozen sheet of ice. But underneath there are soft spots, and if you step in the wrong place, with too much pressure, it splinters apart. Like cracks in the ice. Sometimes I don’t even see it coming. It’s stupid shit like the other day, I was watching TV and there was a baby food commercial on, and the mom was feeding her kid applesauce.”
My voice becomes thick with emotions I haven’t identified in a long time. “I cried. The fucking applesauce got me. It took me right back to the mess hall at Bagram. Applesauce was the meat identifier for pork chops. You couldn’t tell what the damn meat was without the sauce as the clue. Cranberry sauce meant turkey.” My mouth feels thick and dry. “Fucking Bandit, he was crazy about that applesauce. Used to ask us all to scrape our extra sauce onto his plate.”
“Is that why they called him Bandit?”
“No,” I laugh. “It’s because he was always stealing our foot powder. He was aGold Bond Powderthief. Had the nastiestcase of athlete’s foot I’d ever seen. We used to tease each other and say, ‘If you fuck this up, I’m gonna make you wear Bandit’s socks.’” I swipe the tears that unexpectedly fall from my eyes. “You could tell when he got into the powder, because you could see the dust caked under his fingernails.”
Rhett shudders, then, in a soft voice, asks, “What happened to Bandit?”
“His name was Mark. Mark Grainger. He took a bullet to the face. It wasn’t even nothing, wasn’t supposed to happen. A stupid, senseless accident. They opened fire on us as we were driving out of the village. Bandit stuck his head out the window and a bullet ricocheted off the Humvee and went right through his cheek.” The tears stream down my cheeks now, pooling on his pillow. Rhett reaches for my hand in the dark, and I squeeze back. “I was sitting beside him. I wore his dried blood on my face for twelve hours straight. They had to hold me down to scrub it off.”
I don’t have to see his face to know he’s crying as silently as I am. I can feel the tremors running through his body.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is shredded with grief. “I’m sorry about Bandit. I’m sorry about all the men we’ve lost.”
I clear my throat loudly, hoping it works like a reset button. “The fucking applesauce and the baby made me think of my buddy’s face exploding. I’ll never ever unsee that shit.” Swiping at my eyes, I continue softly, “I don’t want to remember him that way. I want to remember Bandit chewing with his mouth open, singing the wrong words to every song, stealing everyone’s fucking powder, and always scratching his nasty feet. I don’t want to remember his death.”
“He doesn’t want you to remember him that way, either.”
“It feels like a betrayal, like that’s what I reduced him to. His whole life is all about his death.”
“That’s how I feel about Brian sometimes.” Rhett’s voice breaks when he says his buddy’s name.
“You’ve been through a trauma, and it changed you. It changed the way your mind works. That’s not up to you. It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either,” he reminds me. I untangle my hand from his and tuck it under my ass so I’m not tempted to reach for him again. “I miss my mama,” he admits sadly.
My heart breaks for him. He’s lost so much. If I could just give him back something,anything.
“I can’t understand why she hasn’t come to see me yet. Wild horses couldn’t keep my mama away normally, but since I’ve been back, things feel different. I don’t know why.”
“I’m sorry. In the meantime, you’ve got me.”
“Do I, Riggs? Do I have you? ’Cause you just got done tellin’ me how complicated it is for you, and I gotta say, it don’t feel like I have you at all.”
The sound of my blood whooshing through my veins is loud in my ears, like a heartbeat. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“So,how often do you have to go through this?”
Mandy sighs heavily. “Toooften. Feels like every month just about I’m going through some sort of treatment, whether it’s dermabrasion or another skin graft. They only do those every quarter, but then there are the checkups in between.”
“And West usually comes with you?”
“Usually. I hate going through this shit alone. I hate having to admit that, but I spent so much time in the hospital after it happened, and then alone in that rehab place, and… I don’t know. I get so much anxiety, and all this bad shit comes back and haunts me. I just don’t handle it well. It helps having someone with me.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s me today. So, what are they gonna do to you?”
“Dermabrasion for my last skin graft. Basically, they use this sanding tool to grind down the scar tissue and smooth it out.”
“Get the fuck out of here. Seriously? That’s a thing?”
Mandy laughs. “Yeah, it’s a thing. But don’t worry, they numb me first.”
“Shit, when we leave this place, I’m gonna buy you ice cream.”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “That’s more than West offers me.”
I make the turnoff on the exit for the Charles George VA Medical Center in Asheville, and the ball of nerves in my stomach grows larger with each mile we get closer. Hell, it’s not even my face being sandblasted today, and I feel like I’m gonna throw up. How in the hell does he go through this every month?