Page 83 of The Scars I Bare
I let out a giant breath as my eyes squeezed shut.
God, how I’d missed this place.
Recovery Journal: Day…who the fuck cares?
I’m home.
I’ve been home for a while now.
Maybe a couple of weeks, or maybe it’s been months now. The days kind of drag together.
Right about now would be a good time to develop a serious drinking habit, but like most things these days, I can’t even seem to get my shit together enough to accomplish that.
I just don’t care.
About anything.
Mama and Taylor have given up on asking when I’m returning to work. I guess, after asking for so long, they’ve figured they have their answer.
And the really shitty thing?
I know I’m being a dick. I have enough logic left in my head that I can step back, look at what I’m doing, and say to myself, “Jesus Christ, grow the fuck up, and get over your damn self. So you lost an arm. Big fucking deal. Man up, and get on with your life.”
Yet I wake up the next morning, drag my ass out of bed, make an entire pot of coffee, and sit around, doing nothing all day.
I’m stuck.
And I don’t know how to get unstuck.
Molly says it’s PTSD or depression. I wasn’t aware she’d gotten her psych degree while I was in the hospital.
All I know is, I want to be left alone.
Yeah, I know.
Zero chance of that happening.
“My mom thinks you’re hot,” Cora announced as we leaned against the fence, watching Lizzie run around with her grandparents, happy as can be.
After homemade enchiladas and margaritas, we’d agreed that a little fresh air could do us all some good.
I smiled, shaking my head, as I turned to look at Cora. “What is it with you Carpenter girls? I’ll be sure not to give her flowers.”
She laughed, placing her head on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming with me. I know it must have been awkward for you at first, especially when my dad started grilling you at dinner.”
I smiled, watching Lizzie chase after a chicken as her grandparents trailed behind. “Usually, fathers grill the guys on things like job security and what intentions they had with their daughter. Your father though? It was like sitting down to play Trivial Pursuit. Only worse.”
She laughed. “He was only trying to get to know you. He just talks fast when he’s excited.”
“That was excited?”
She nodded. “Didn’t you see his hands waving?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I think I momentarily passed out in the middle. So, he likes me?”
She nodded once more, this time with a warm smile. “Yeah, I think so. But I knew he would. You’re intelligent and full of witty humor, and most of all, you adore me.”
I brushed back a piece of her hair, smiling. “Yeah, I do.”
