Chapter 8

The flight was typical, long, boring and I spent the time staring out the window or reading the in flight magazines which hadn't changed in the few weeks prior.

I was jostled awake when the plane landed in New York, not realizing that I'd been asleep. I had to switch planes and in the terminal I caught up with Smiley and we talked as we walked until he had to turn off and go to another terminal. We told each other to keep in touch and shook hands. He thanked me for asking him to come along on this trip and that he enjoyed what we had done. I nodded and agreed that we had accomplished something worthwhile and beneficial. We parted and I continued to my gate and the flight back to Seattle.

When I got to SEATAC, it was dark and raining. Nothing new, this was Washington State in the fall. I made my way down to the luggage carousel and then over to the airport shuttle desk. It was late, and most of the shuttles had stopped running on their hourly schedules. I finally found one that was heading out to my area and paid cash for the one-way ticket. The ride was mind numbing, it was too late to have any kind of conversation and the other passenger was nodding off almost as soon as he took his seat. I just stared out the window at the rain and the water sprayed up by the passing traffic, hardly believing that just a few hours ago, I had been in a tropical environment. I realized that my long sleeve shirts and jacket were in my luggage and I'd need them when we stopped. The other passenger got off at some stop around Tacoma and when my stop came, the rain hadn't let up at all, if anything, it increased.

The driver felt a little sorry for me and let me off at a covered rural Amtrak station that was a little closer to our rented house. Once outside, I was freezing. I had gotten soaked as soon as I stepped out now my fingers were numb as they fumbled with the zipper of my bag, trying to get my jacket out. Finally, I got it on and the hood up. It cut down the wind a little and kept me dry. I shouldered my duffle bag, grabbed my carry-on and stepped out into the night for the walk home.

The rain was really coming down and it didn't take too long before I was soaked. When the little house that we were renting came into view, I dug out my keys. Trudging through the standing water and up the driveway, I fumbled my key in the lock and got inside as quickly as possible. I wiped my feet and attempted to be quiet but I heard the subtle shuffle of Karen's steps in the kitchen and then ruffled head peek around the corner. She looked at me and I just said 'Hi Babe'. She squealed and threw herself on me, her legs wrapping around my waist as she covered my face with kisses. I returned them and then tried to stagger over to the couch but it didn't work and I ended up just leaning back against the wall and accepting the furious onslaught of kisses and hugs she was giving me. When we stopped to catch our breath, she told me I was all wet. It was raining out I told her. I bent over to untie my boots and she grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs, I was hopping on one foot trying to get my boot off and was almost pulled off balance. She dragged me up the stairs and into the bathroom where I stripped off my wet clothes and got into the warm shower. I stood there under the stream of warm water, letting it flow over my face and head, finally accepting that I was home, when the shower door opened and Karen stepped inside, her arms going around me from behind as she pressed herself against me. I turned and we kissed some more under the water and then got out, dried ourselves off and I chased her into the bedroom for a tickle fight until we got under the covers and got to know each other once again.

I awoke in the morning to a stream of sunlight coming through the window. I opened my eyes and looked around, Karen was leaning on one elbow, watching me sleep and playing with my chest hair. She noticed I was awake and rubbed her hand on my chest.

She told me she had something important to tell me so I propped myself up and gave her my undivided attention. She snuggled up against me and told me she was pregnant. Every emotion that I could think of hit me all at once. I hugged her tightly and told her that was wonderful. I was going to be a father. We were going to have a family. Now I had to find a real job. I pulled her up and kissed her and we didn't get out of bed until some time in the early evening. We sat at dinner and talked about what we were going to do. I mentioned that we should actually buy a house somewhere and go shopping for baby stuff.

Everything was falling into place. The next day I called my parents to tell them the good news and was surprised when my father answered the phone with his words slurring. I asked what was the problem and he just said that he had some libation with his breakfast and starting rambling on about how I'd been. WTF? I didn't know how long this had been going on or maybe I did but chose to ignore it. Since he had retired from the service, things had changed. He would sit around the house and have a beer at 10am or not got to bed at all and stay up drinking all night and into the morning before passing out in his chair. I cut him off and told him I'd call him back later. Karen walked in just then and asked what the problem was.

I told her about the phone call and she sat down and said she had something to add to that. I listened as she told me that since I had been gone, my mother had a nervous breakdown and now had trouble discerning present day from her fantasy world of 1962 and it had pushed my dad over the edge. Apparently this had been festering since my grandfather had died some years ago. I had been notified of his death but was in the middle of a deployment when the memorial service had happened. I had no idea all this was going on in the background. My grandmother had come to stay with my parents but when the breakdown occurred, she moved into a senior community. So now, in order to deal with the problem, my father drank it away. Karen told me she knew when I came home last time but because of the circumstances of my visit, she didn't want to tell me then. I just sat there and digested this information.

I knew Karen loved me enough not to burden me with this problem on top of everything else that had happened and knew that I wouldn't be able to focus on my job if I knew about it when I returned to DRC. I reached out and took her hand and saw that her eyes were watery. She was worried that I would be angry with her for keeping this from me. I comforted her and told her it was all right, I understood why she had done what she did. I had always been independent and now I would just be more so.

Karen and I went out later that afternoon and visited some real estate offices to get an idea of what was on the market. Something strange happened that afternoon, when we stopped at the Prudential office; I recognized one of the realtors. It was a guy I had gone to high school with. Small world. We sat in his office and basically played catch up instead of looking at properties. I left out pretty much everything that I had done over the past few years and steered the conversation towards houses and family. We told him what we were looking for and he said he'd start a search straight away and have something by the mid week. Karen and I left his office with a little spring in our step and headed out for lunch then baby item shopping.

I had a made a quick list of essentials in my head so I had a pretty good idea of what to look for. We grabbed a quick bite and stared into each other's eyes through most of it. She'd get that twinkle in her eye and I'd just smirk. Going to every conceivable baby boutique in town wasted the rest of the day.

We got home to several phone messages. One was Karen's doctor's office reminding her of her appointment later this week. A few from telemarketers and one with a total wrong number that wasted the rest of the tape in the machine. We fixed a quick dinner and sat on the couch and snuggled. I had made a fire in the fireplace and Karen had lit some candles so the mood was somewhat romantic. We held each other and whispered I love you back and forth punctuated by kisses. Eventually, we retired to the upstairs bedroom where as much as I wanted to continue what had started on the couch, the jet lag and time difference was rapidly catching up with me.

I got into bed and promptly crashed. I never felt Karen get in or snuggle up next to me. The nightmares started again. This time, they were worse. I had this real intense image of grabbing my sidearm from its clip holster on the bed frame, rolling over the top of Karen as I chambered a round, coming off the bed and on to the floor, rolling up against the closet and firing at some shadowy shape that was in the hallway. The entire time that this was happening, there was someone screaming my name. It was so real, I could see the slide travel back, the spent round eject, feel the warmth, the rubberized grips in my hand.

I awoke in a cold sweat to screaming. I looked around for Karen only to find her on the bed, holding the sheets to her chest, eyes wide, mouth agape trying to suck in air, staring at me like I'd grown a third eye. I focused on where I was. I was in an isosceles stance, left shoulder against the closet door, right elbow braced on my right knee, my M9 in my hand; slide locked back and barrel smoking. I looked at it, at Karen, and threw it down as if it had just become scorching hot. I rolled over to a seated position and looked at my hands and then cradled my head in them and started weeping. Karen slowly got out of bed and slid to the floor next to me. She pulled me to her chest and held me as I shook. We stayed like that for a long time until she coaxed me back into bed. My side had been soaked with sweat so she had me wait while she got a towel to put down. She held me the rest of the night. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I knew about traumatic stress but no way did I have that problem. That was for the Vietnam generation.

Morning came and I awoke to the aroma of eggs and bacon. I slid out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweat pants. I was almost to the door when I realized that my weapon was not on the floor where I dropped it last night, nor was any spent shell casings visible. Karen had picked it all up. The door to the bathroom was closed as well, so I skipped that stop and headed downstairs. She had been busy. The table was set and she was already dressed for the day. I walked up and gave her a kiss on the top of the head and she gave me a plate with breakfast on it. We both sat down and began to eat, not saying anything. Finally, I broke the silence and asked about her day. She looked at me and giggled. We laughed at that for a few minutes before I told her that I was going to call Ell-tee and ask him about this problem. It had to be taken care of before it got out of control and someone got seriously hurt or killed. She got up and pushed herself onto my lap and hugged me. This was a strong woman to put up with this shit and not pack her bags and head for the hills.

After a quick shower and shave, I called Ell-tee and told him what had been happening since I left the teams. He listened intently and then told me that it sounded a lot like what the VA was now calling PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I told him that didn't sound like what I had or was experiencing. He told me that if he had been emptying his weapon into the wall some night before he woke up, he'd damn sure figure out what the problem was. He gave the number for VA services in my area, chatted for a little while longer and then had to go. I sat there and looked at the number. I got up and went downstairs, had a coke, looked outside, talked to Karen for a little bit, went back upstairs and looked at the number again. Finally I figured I'd better nut up and do it.

I called and got the name, location and number of the local VA hospital and made an appointment for later that week. I went back downstairs and told Karen about it and she was supportive of my decision as we both knew that this was not something to expose a child to.

We drove the VA hospital at American Lake and she waited while I went into my appointment. The doc was an older guy, late 50s, salt and pepper hair, sitting behind a wood desk in front of a wall covered with diplomas and pictures. The office had a warm, homey feel to it and I felt comfortable and at ease when he motioned me to a seat.

We sat and discussed the problems I was having and he took notes. He stopped and looked at me and asked how was my family. I told him about that situation and he just pursed his lips, nodded and made more notes. I ran out of stuff to say and he leaned forward on his elbows, made a steeple with his fingers and told me that the best thing he could do was prescribe some mild tranquilizers and tell me to get out of town for awhile as it held too many memories for me. Distance yourself from the problem, control your nightmares, then re-enter the area and proceed at your own pace, facing the issues that are causing the repressed trauma to reassert itself. It made some sense. My family was a problem, not much I could do about my dad's drinking, and mom was in la-la land. He added that maybe what was best is get a fresh start, a new perspective, change of environment, and get away from someplace that rained all the time. He said some patients had a form of latent depression caused by weather that affected them to a point of re-experiencing traumatic events. Not likely, I was as happy as I had ever been, hell more so now that we were going to have a family. I was looking forward to domestic life, the white picket fence, a dog, 2.5 kids, the American dream. He scribbled a prescription for me and I left the office.