desertion

98

LYDIA

The pizzeria had never felt so suffocating. As I clocked out of my shift, the air hung heavy with unspoken words and awkward glances. I glanced at Tyler, who was wiping down the counter. He looked up at me, concern flashing across his face.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but cautious.

I nodded quickly, even though my head was pounding, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. Pressing my hand to my forehead, I tried to steady myself. "Yeah," I mumbled, grabbing my backpack and keys.

Tyler hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he just said, "See you next shift."

I nodded again, forcing a small smile before heading out the door. The cool night air hit my face as I walked to my car. Sliding into the driver's seat, I cranked up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, desperate to leave the awkwardness behind.

The drive home was a blur. My mind felt foggy, my thoughts jumbled and heavy. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the lights were still on inside the house. Strange, considering Chris usually went to bed early.

The second I opened the door, I was hit with the sound of Chris screaming, "Dad!" His voice was frantic, panicked. My heart dropped.

Someone was banging on something, and glass shattered in the distance. My dad's voice echoed from his room, sharp and angry.

"Chris?" I called out, my voice shaking.

"Lydia!" Chris yelled back.

I sprinted toward his voice and found him standing outside Dad's room, pounding on the door. His face was pale, his fists red from banging.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Chris turned to me, his eyes wide and full of fear. "He won't answer! I-I called Buck. He's on his way."

I nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay, okay. Chris, step back," I said, gently nudging him aside.

The house went eerily silent as I pressed my ear to the door. My hands shook as I knocked. "Dad? Dad, it's me. Please open the door."

No response.

I braced myself and hit the door with my shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, but I didn't stop. "Dad, move away from the door!" I shouted.

One final shove, and the door burst open.

The room was destroyed. Holes were punched into the walls, the curtains were torn down, and shards of a broken lamp littered the floor. My breath caught in my throat as I scanned the chaos.

"Dad?" I called out softly.

Then I saw him. He was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

I rushed over, dropping to my knees beside him. "Dad," I said again, my voice breaking.

He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and filled with something I couldn't quite place-fear, shame, pain.

Before I could say another word, the front door opened, and Buck's voice called out, "Chris?"

"We're here!" I shouted back.

Buck appeared in the doorway, his face a mix of concern and urgency. He quickly took in the scene before rushing over to us. "Lydia, take Chris to the living room," he said firmly.

I hesitated, but Buck gave me a reassuring nod. "I've got him. Go."

I stood up, my legs shaky, and hurried back to Chris. He was standing in the hallway, his small hands clenched into fists.

"Is he okay?" Chris asked, his voice trembling.

I knelt down in front of him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "He will be," I promised, though I wasn't sure if I believed it myself.

Chris stared at me for a moment before leaning his head on my shoulder. He was exhausted, his small body trembling against mine.

"You want to head to bed?" I asked gently.

Chris shook his head. "I want to check on Dad."

I sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. "Buck's with him right now. He'll take care of him, and I'll look after him and you, okay? First thing in the morning, I'll tell you what's going on. If anything happens during the night, I'll wake you up and tell you immediately. I promise."

Chris pulled back slightly, his brown eyes searching mine. "You promise?"

I held out my pinky. "I promise."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he hooked his pinky around mine. "Okay."

I guided him to his bedroom, helping him get settled under the covers. "Did you brush your teeth?" I asked, trying to inject some normalcy.

He nodded sleepily.

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Lydia," he murmured as I shut the door behind me.

I walked to the kitchen, where Dad and Buck were talking. I leaned against the doorway, watching them.

Buck glanced over at me. "How's Chris?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. "He's okay. He's worried about Dad," I said quietly.

Dad looked up at me then, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with regret. "I didn't mean to scare either of you. I just... I lost it."

Buck crossed his arms, his tone gentle but firm. "What's going on?"

Dad hesitated before saying, "My therapist wanted me to reach out to some of the people I served with. I was supposed to call them today."

Buck frowned. "I didn't know you still kept in touch with any of them."

"Truth is I didn't," Dad admitted. "Not really. I haven't talked to any of them since we moved out here."

There was a long pause before he continued. "I pulled four people out of that chopper alive. The chief died in-country a couple years later. The rest of us made it home safe."

Buck nodded slowly. "What happened to the others?"

Dad's voice wavered as he answered. "Norwhal died in a car crash. Binder OD'd. Mills... shot herself last August."

My breath hitched.

"I pulled them out," Dad whispered, his voice breaking. "But I didn't save them."

Buck's jaw tightened. "And that's why you took a baseball bat to everything you owned?"

Dad nodded, his hands trembling. "I'm afraid," he said softly.

Buck leaned forward. "Afraid of what?"

Dad looked down, his voice barely audible. "That I'm never going to feel normal again."

Tears streamed down my face as I watched him. I couldn't hold it in anymore. A sob escaped my lips, and I turned, walking away before anyone could see me break.