Torin and Summer

Chapter 17 (Torin): Ending A Call

Checking my phone every five minutes didn't lead to the most productive day at work, but I'd started early and planned to work late anyway.

All I cared about was a text or a call coming through from Summer since it'd been six months to the day. I knew she was aware of this because we'd both said the date several times, and talked about the irony of it being the same day we met. Going forward, I'd always remember this day for multiple reasons now.

But as the hours dragged on, there was still no call from Summer. I'd finished work at seven, and was tempted to call her. By God, I wanted to call her. Every single time my phone had rung today, my heart started pounding and my hands shook as I pulled my phone from my back pocket to see who was on the other end.

None of the calls had been from Summer, and my doubts multiplied as it got later and later in the day. Six months was a long time not to see or speak to each other. Six months that had killed me, but I was determined to honor her wishes...so much could have happened in that timeframe, and most of it about killed me to think about. We'd agreed that we wouldn't see other people during this separation, and that wasn't a problem for me, but I felt like I was taking a knife to the gut every time I thought of Summer maybe meeting a man she wanted to get to know better. Someone she wanted to pursue a relationship with and had been counting down the days until our six months were up and she'd pursue a divorce.

That feeling of wanting to vomit had been my constant companion for the last half year as I thought about Summer deciding I wasn't worth the effort, that I'd completely destroyed our marriage. I flexed my left hand, staring at my wedding ring. As long as I still had it on, I had hope.

Fortunately, today's work projects didn't require too much mental effort, and I just put my brain on autopilot and began tiling a bathroom floor. The repetition of the task allowed thoughts of Summer to work their way into the front of my mind.

Was her life better without me? I hoped her therapy was going as well as mine, that she was finding peace. Every single day I wondered how her day was, what she was doing each day, what she'd been dealing with, what she'd been facing in therapy, what she'd been working on...and wished I could have been there for her. 

But she didn't want you there, Torin. She made that clear. And if you'd forced yourself into her life, into her healing, you'd be a bigger asshole than you'd already been, no matter how much you wanted to be there.

Without needing to be told, I knew her life was definitely better without the man I had been for those eighteen months, but I wondered if we could get back to the husband and man I'd aways been prior to my spiral, if she could ever see me that way again or if I was now the man who'd hurt her and killed any feelings she had for me. Had I completely destroyed our love or had I done some serious damage to it that we could eventually recover from?

Leaving work dusty, dirty and discouraged, I got into my truck and headed wearily for home. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I made myself two sandwiches and inhaled those even before I took a shower. Making sure my phone wasn't on silent, which I'd done almost as often as I'd checked my phone throughout the day, I placed it on the bathmat outside the shower, stripped off my clothes and stepped into the hot water.

The water felt cleansing, like the last six months had felt in many way. Learning to separate myself more from the military mindset, dropping the hero complex, working through all the scrambled, self-loathing shit inside of me that manifested itself in ugly ways, understanding what had been going on in my head...it'd been a journey, but six months into it had made me realize how far I had to go. I worked out, worked, read at night, attended my PTSD support group several times a week and met Keith for some one-on-one sessions. I'd been surprised to find the former Marine wasn't just facilitating our group as someone who'd experienced PTSD, but he'd gotten his degree to become a licensed psychologist specializing in the disorder.

After one group session about a month in, I'd stayed after everyone else had gone and admitted to Keith I felt completely lost and all the reasons why. He'd right away suggested we start meeting one-on-one.

"I have an office," he told me, "but some of the vets I work with don't like that atmosphere and feel better meeting for coffee, where it's less formal. I leave it up to each person where they prefer to meet to talk."

"Coffee sounds good," I'd said. So we'd met twice a week in addition to the support group meetings. I came away from those one-on-one sessions more exhausted than I was after a twelve-hour, physically demanding day at work. The mental was much more draining than the physical because Keith was making me dig deep and never accepted I don't know why I did that as an answer to his probing questions. It was uncomfortable, but it was necessary.

I'd just stepped out of the shower and had started to dry myself off when my phone rang.

Summer! 

I almost dropped the phone in my anxiousness as I realized that this call could go in many directions, one of which was sideways.

"Summer," I said, and I'm sure to her it sounded like I'd picked up her call while running.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, just got out of the shower and was afraid I'd miss your call. How are you? It's so fucking good to hear your voice. I've missed you so much, Sum. Are you OK?"

"I've been good," she said, her voice thoughtful. "How have you been?"

"A mess not being able to see you," I said bluntly, honestly. "But I've been looking forward to this day."

"I know we need to talk," she said. "I wanted to call earlier in the day but I didn't know what to say."

"If you need more time, I'll wait as long as you need."

"No, I'm ready to talk."

"Anytime. Anywhere," I told her.

"You sound better," she said. "Different."

I was much more interested in how she was doing, but I refused to brush off her observation.

"I'm feeling better and not necessarily different so much as it feels like I've been slipping into my old skin again with some new upgrades."

"You sound more like your old self."

If anyone knew my voice, it was Summer, and I hoped that was a good sign. But even though I knew her voice, she wasn't giving anything away in the conversation, and that made me worry.

"I hope so. I've been working on it. How about you? How has everything been?"

"Let's meet tomorrow so I can fill you in," she said. "Could you be at my place by six-thirty?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking I'd meet her on the moon at midnight if she'd asked. "Let me bring dinner."

"Sure. So lately I've been hungry for Thai, Italian, Greek or Mexican. Take your pick."

That brought a smile to my face even though I could easily be bringing dinner to my doom. Summer loved her food and had a hard time choosing between her favorites, so I always got her a selection of all of them.

"Summer, have you decided anything?" I asked, unable to wait.

"Yes," she said, her voice still not giving anything away, "but I think it's best to talk about it face-to-face tomorrow."

Shit. That didn't sound encouraging at all.

"I can't wait to see you, Sum," I said and if that wasn't the understatement of the century, I'd be surprised. "I'll look forward to tomorrow."

"Good bye, Torin," she said, and then she ended the call.

I wondered all night if there was more to her good bye than simply ending a call.

If there was, I'd have to change her mind.