Page 4 of Hunting the Truth
“Good, thanks,” Maya said. She opened the door to Juniper’s special compartment and made sure she had water. Juniper tried to push past her, wanting to come out, but Maya gently restricted her.
“We’ll go on a run after I get done here, girly,” Maya said, making sure that the climate control settings were good and Juniper would be comfortable until the session was over.
“You should bring her in sometime,” Kendra said.
“Yeah, Juniper would like that, but not everyone loves dogs. Not to mention, she’s a patrol dog, not a therapy dog.”
“True. So hey, you want to do lunch after this? Then I’m going to go get another tattoo. It’s going to be the Air Force emblem with the years I served. You should get one,” Kendra said. “I’m getting it here on my other arm next to the skull and crossbones.”
“I’m so sorry, I can’t today,” Maya said. “I have some errands to run, and Juniper really needs to get out for a hike. Maybe the next meeting? At least for lunch. I’m not ready for a tattoo yet,” she added, thinking about the one design she had considered—a tribute to her fallen military K-9, Zinger.
“Sure, that works. And you should bring your boy toy too. What’s his name?”
“Uh, Josh. He’s not my boy toy.”
“Girl, you’re crazy if you don’t throw yourself at him.”
“It’s not like that,” Maya said. “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, right,” Kendra said, as Maya shut the door to Juniper’s compartment. They started to walk across the parking lot. “Maybe you should talk about your denial issues today at group.”
“I’ll think about it,” Maya said with a grin. Kendra did have a point. About Josh—not about denial issues. Well...maybe she had a point there too.
The pair walked into the room and each grabbed a cup of coffee. Maya poured extra creamer into hers. Then she took a seat in the support group circle. Kendra plopped down next to her and was filling her in on her last disastrous date and applications she had out to other police departments.
Maya scooted back in her chair and started to tune Kendra out. She liked Kendra, but the feeling of someone watching her plagued her.Have I become that paranoid? Maybe it’s from the dreams I’ve been having. Should I talk to Dr. Meyers about this? Or could someone really be watching me? If so, why? What do they want?
Maya crossed her arms, pulling them in tight. The dreams happened daily and like the one she’d had the previous night, they often started with good memories and then changed to the night her mother died...
When she was four, almost five years old, she had believed she was the best at keeping secrets and playing games. When she played hide-and-seek, no one ever found her. She had listened in on conversations between her mother and her nana without them knowing.
As Maya sat at the old wood kitchen table eating her macaroni and cheese with hot dogs, she hid her latest secret. She had pulled out the small pieces of meat and carefully covered and concealed the hot dog slices in the napkin on her lap for her new friend, Gunner. Maya didn’t have many friends except for her grandparents, Pops and Nana. So, when she met the giant German shepherd owned by their neighbors, she felt an instant connection. She loved his big pointy ears and the way he would chase his toys. Maya didn’t even mind all the slobber.
Then she heard Gunner bark frantically outside. Simultaneously, someone pounded on the front door.
“What the heck?” Maya’s mom muttered, marching over to the front door in the living room.
Where Maya sat at the kitchen table, she couldn’t quite see out the window that overlooked the porch. Her mom opened the door, blocking Maya’s view there too. Wondering if maybe Nana and Pops were stopping by for a surprise visit, Maya slipped off her chair and trotted around the table over to the window. She pushed back the white curtain, peering outside. There was a man standing there. He had dark curly hair and squinty eyes that reminded Maya of a rattlesnake she’d recently seen. Her nana had told her to stay away from rattlesnakes because they would strike and were poisonous.
There was a gun in a holster in the back of his pants. Guns were dangerous. Her mother and Nana had told her so. Pops, a deputy who took bad people to jail, had told her to be careful with firearms and that only people who wore a star on their shirt like him were allowed to have weapons. He promised he would teach her to shoot when she grew up, but for now she needed to know guns were dangerous and not toys. So why did this man have a gun? Did her mom know about it?
Maya snuck over to the couch that faced the front door. She hunkered behind it, hoping hiding would make her feel safer. Her mom and the man had started to argue and then escalated to yelling. She heard her mother sob, but then the door had slammed shut.
The bad man was gone—
“Hey, are you listening?” Kendra asked.
“What? Uh, yeah. I was listening.”
“You’re not a good liar,” Kendra said. Maya was worried she’d hurt her feelings but saw Kendra smile.
“Sorry about that,” Maya said. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
“No worries,” Kendra said. “Here’s the good doctor now. Let’s see if he can cure us today.”
Maya shrugged, not certain what to say. There wasn’t a cure for PTSD, only learning to manage it better. Things like mindfulness and AA helped Maya, but she had a long way to go. Kendra seemed to cope by trying to be flippant.To each their own, I guess.
Chapter Three
