Is It A Dream?

The Talk

Danny sat on the bed, waiting for Linda to come out of the bathroom. He really needed to talk to her about everything that was going on.
Linda finally came out, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. She sat on the bed, quite a ways away from Danny.
"Linda, we gotta talk."
She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
"This stuff that happened.... it's bad. Really bad. But.... you gotta get better. This isn't healthy for you-"
"Or you or Jack or Sean or anybody! I know that, Danny!" Linda's bottom lip quivered, and her eyes shone with tears ready to fall. "I wanna get better, I do! But I don't know how! At therapy, it's always 'talk about this, talk about that' but talking isn't helping!" Her voice cracked and she hid her face in her hands. She mumbled something between the sobs, making Danny's heart break.
"Linda," he wanted to pull her into an embrace, kiss her forehead, and make all the problems go away. If only it was that simple. "I know you're scared, and PTSD, that's scary stuff. I know, I lived with it, twice. But you know what got me through all the crap?"
"Pills?" She wondered, her face still in her hands.
"No."
"Therapy?"
Danny chuckled, "are you kidding? That didn't help at all."
"What then?"
"You."
Linda looked up, and mouthed me?.
"You. You've always been there for me, and I want you to continue being there for me. It's selfish, but I don't care. I need you. And as soon as you get better, I'm gonna give you that vow renewal. But you gotta get better first, okay?"
Linda nodded, "how?"
"First, I think you need to eat. We've got that chicken dumpling soup you like, huh? Does that sound good?" Danny didn't know if he was offending Linda by talking to her like a kid, but that was the only thing that seemed to be working.... for now. "C'mon," he held out his hand, waiting for Linda to take it.
She warily took his hand, feeling a bit of warmth. "It's warm."
"What?"
"Your hand. I feel warmth when you hold my hand."
Danny smiled widely, "that's great! That means you're getting better!"
Linda smiled a little, "really?"
"Yeah. It's gonna take some time, but you can do it. I know you can."
Linda nodded, "if it feels good to hold hands, why am I still..." she let go of his hand and stuck hers in her pocket.
"What's the matter?"
"How'd you get better?"
"What?"
"From Iraq. How'd ya do it?"
"It took a long time, Linda. But I took the pills and went to the stupid therapy. But above all else, you helped me."
"But... how- how do you not see the... the bad stuff? Or feel it?"
"I still do, sometimes. It never fully goes away, but it does get a thousand times better."
"Danny?"
"Yeah?" He tilted his head as she closed her eyes.
"I hate myself for this.... but... I think... I'm- I'm kinda.... s-scared... of-of.... y-you."
"What? Why?"
"Be-" Linda sobbed, and hid her face in the pillows. She hated herself for being afraid of her husband.
"Lin-" the doorbell rang, interrupting Danny. "I'll be right back, okay?"
She mumbled into the pillows as Danny left the room to answer the door.