Chapter Eleven

 

The chicken and sausage gumbo Sabetha made turned out to be as good, if not better, than his grandmother Odile’s version. Maybe it was just because he celebrated being in love or because he was hungry and it tasted delicious. Or, he decided, maybe it just was.

“You’re a helluva cook,” he told her after he’d polished off his second bowl. “This is good.”

“As good as your grandma’s?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Slattery responded.

Although still bruised and sore, his spirits were high. This amazing, sweet, talented woman loved him, and he loved her right back. Slattery had once thought he’d like to grow old with Tamara, the woman who rejected him after he came back as damaged goods, but it had been more of a vague yearning. With Sabetha, he could envision it, the two of them, moving through life today, raising kids, maturing together, growing gray and slow, but in tandem, always together.

Sabetha paused in clearing the table to plant a light kiss on his forehead with care. “I’ll clean up,” she said. “Why don’t you go watch some television or nap?”

Slattery wrinkled his nose and made a face. “I’m about to wear out with the invalid thing.”

She shook her head. “Lord, Slattery, it’s been what, two whole days and you’re still sore? I notice you’re limping a little too. Be patient.”

“I have been,” he said. “I spent eight months in the fucking hospital after I got hurt in Iraq. If I never see the inside of another one, it’d be fine with me. Any patience I ever had for being laid up got used up then.”

Behind him, Sabetha stood with both hands resting on his shoulders. She massaged them with gentle force. “I’m sure it did,” she said. “But you need to give yourself a little more time to heal, Slattery. Tomorrow you need to get your prosthetic checked out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So pick out a movie and we’ll watch it after I finish in here. It won’t take long.”

He spent fifteen minutes with the remote control in hand, selecting a movie from the many offered on the subscription services Sabetha had. And although he wouldn’t admit it, Slattery could use a nap. Fatigue settled over him, heavy as fog, thick as a handmade quilt, but he tried to stay awake by focusing on the sound of running water and clattering dishes from the kitchen. He failed and drifted into a light doze that became sleep.

At first, Slattery remained aware of his surroundings, but reality faded as he went deeper into slumber. In dream country, he stood beneath the relentless desert sun, next to the Humvee, on patrol. Heat rippled in the air in invisible waves and enveloped him. Water sounded delicious and he yearned for some to trickle down his dry throat. His belly clenched hard and he tried to ignore it. All day long, he’d had what his grandmother used to call “hoo doo jitters”, a sense something must be askew in the universe, that something terrible waited to pounce. It made Slattery tense, nerves taut. Something was about to go down, a firefight or a roadside bomb or something.

Distant voices rose and fell, followed by the sound of scattered gunfire. He shut his eyes and moaned, knowing whatever it was, it had arrived. The world went up in a burst of fire, of heat and pain. He cried out, then dropped to his knees. Maybe he wanted to pray, maybe it could be the shock of it all, a denial, but he had no clue.

All the noise ceased, leaving a wake of silence behind. He took a deep breath and shuddered. He might be dead.

“Pride, wake up, Pride. It’s a dream. It’s not real, and you’re not back in the country.”

Slattery heard her voice and responded to it the way a drowning person reaches for a helping hand. He opened his eyes. “Jesus,” he said in a harsh croak. “Oh, Jesus.”

He crouched in the corner on his knees, face toward the wall. Her hand rested on his back, rubbing it in slow circles to comfort him. “Come sit in the recliner. You’ll hurt yourself more down on the floor like this.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. God, what must she think about him. He didn’t even want to consider it.

Sabetha’s voice remained even. “I’ll help you, Pride. C’mon.”

Getting up proved to be hard but he managed. Once seated, he exhaled a long, slow sigh and buried his face in both hands. Sabetha hovered, wanting to help, but Slattery had no idea what he needed. His emotions bubbled to a boiling point and he began to sob with enough force to rack his body. If she asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell her why he wept because he had no idea, only that embarrassment, confusion, pain, and an overwhelming love were powerful. Slattery lacked capacity to contain them, so release became necessary.

Everything he’d repressed since his heroic act on the Pacific Coast Highway burst free during his emotional storm. He let go of some old fears and embraced new strengths. At some point, he realized Sabetha had wrapped her arms around him and held him, rocking as he wept. Her warmth, the comfort she offered, and the quiet litany of words eased his anguish. Once Slattery gained control, he held her tight for a few moments, then scrubbed his face free from tears and raised his head.

“Hey,” he said, after he’d calmed a little. He avoided looking at her face, afraid he might spot disgust or pity. “I don’t know what that was but I’m sorry.”

Her blue eyes met his, placid as always. “You don’t need to apologize for having PTSD.”

“I blame the dream on it,” he said. “But the bawling, I don’t know where that came from.”

“Maybe you just needed the release. You’re still hurting, you went through a traumatic, dramatic event that triggered a flashback, and you need to make a major work-related decision. You’re in a new relationship…”

“Which is the best damn thing I’ve ever had, if I haven’t blown it,” Slattery said.

Sabetha smiled. “You haven’t, not by a long shot. Still, getting to know another person, loving someone, can create a little stress too. You’re hammered, Slattery, and you were injured. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have an episode or if you bottled it all up too long. You needed this, babe. Haven’t you been taking your Zoloft?”

He hadn’t been. “You’ve got a helluva memory there, but no, I haven’t.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it help?”

Slattery shrugged. “Not much that I could tell, and it makes my stomach hurt. So I don’t take it. Most of the time, I get along all right. I’m not always this pathetic.”

Her lips twisted with frustration as she frowned at him. “You’re not pathetic at all, Pride.”

He gave her a smile as bitter as chicory. “I’m crippled plus I go to pieces over small shit, and now I cried like a brat. Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to drive your ducks to a poor market?”

Sabetha laughed. “I haven’t heard that old countrified expression in years, Slattery, and my mama never said it. Grandma might have, but I didn’t listen and you’re a fine man. You’re kind, generous, hard-working, caring, considerate, reliable…”

He interrupted her list of his assets to list some of his faults. “And I drink too much, I can be cranky as a bear just out of the hibernation cave, I feel sorry for myself, I miss my left leg, and I can be a real bastard.”

“So you’re human,” Sabetha replied, unfazed. “And you know what—I love you just the way you are.”

His throat tightened and he thought he might cry again. Slattery swallowed hard, touched by her words, amazed that she could love a worthless wreck like him. “I don’t know why, honey, but I’m glad you do.”

Seated on the floor near his feet, Sabetha leaned against his legs, the flesh and bone, the titanium, and rested her head there. “I like the fringe benefits,” she said after a pause. “Do you still want to watch a movie?”

Slattery wanted to go to sleep for about fourteen hours, wake up, fuck her till she came screaming, and then take a long, hot shower. Then he’d like to eat a steak with fries. “No, honey, I’d rather not. My head’s pounding.”

A bad episode often left a headache behind. Sabetha touched his forehead. “I’ll get you something for it,” she said. “Then you should rest awhile.”

Before he could say another word, she rose. When she returned, she handed him a wet washcloth so he could wipe his face, then several ibuprofen tablets with a glass of water. Once he’d taken the pills, she tugged his hand. “Come over to the couch, Slattery, and I’ll massage your head. It’ll help, I promise.”

Slattery had his doubts but once he curled into a comfortable position on his left side with his head resting on a pillow in her lap, he changed his mind. Her slender fingers rubbed gentle circles on his temples, and he relaxed. He loved the way it felt, and after a few minutes, he became drowsy. He must’ve slept because when he roused, blinking, he could tell by the shadows on the wall and the dim light in the room that it must be late afternoon, maybe evening.

He did a quick self-assessment. Headache had vanished, his tension had drained away, and his phantom pain came in at a low level. His stump ached a bit but at a tolerable level. Slattery pushed himself from Sabetha’s lap into a sitting position. His back, neck, and legs were stiff from sleeping, but otherwise he felt pretty damn good. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“Several hours,” Sabetha said.

“Your legs must be numb.”

She shrugged. “A little but I didn’t mind. I dozed a bit too, Slattery. How’s your head?”

Slattery yawned. “The headache’s gone. Thanks for doing that, honey.”

“De nada.” Sabetha rubbed her legs with a rueful grin. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Go ahead,” he told her. “I need to go piss.”

When he emerged from the bathroom, Sabetha was deep in conversation on her cell. From the way she stood at the window, shoulders hunched together, he guessed she didn’t like what someone was telling her so he sat down and eavesdropped on her end.

“I figured I’d take until Tuesday. Well, if it matters that much, all right, sure, I’ll be there. Yes, yes, I know. Okay. Bye.”

“Problem?” he asked before she turned around.

Sabetha faced him. “Oh, not really, but the damn radio station wants me tomorrow for my usual shift so I guess I’ll have to go to work. I wanted one more day off before I had to go back to spend with you. And now I won’t be able to go with you to the VA.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I can manage—I have for years. Are you singing tomorrow night too?”

If so, he’d probably just go back to his lonely apartment. Slattery would miss her more here than at his place. She shook her head. “No, they said I could take all week off at Boots and Bandanas. I don’t sing again until Saturday. What about you? When do you have to report back for duty, Slattery?”

“I left it open-ended.”

“Meaning what?”

He shrugged both shoulders and grinned. “Meaning I can go back when I’m ready or not at all.”

She smiled back. “What in the world did you tell them, the reason for calling in?”

“I told them I managed to hurt myself.”

“And that was enough?”

“Yeah, but I’m surprised the boss hasn’t called.”

“Have you checked your phone for messages?”

“I hadn’t thought of it.”

Slattery hadn’t picked it up from the charger since plugging it into an outlet on Friday. He retrieved it and frowned. “I guess I turned it off when we got here.”

As soon as the screen lit, the phone beeped several times in quick sequence. “Shit, I’ve got messages.”

He sat down and listened to voice mail. Two were from his boss at the security company and a third was from Beckett. His supervisor inquired about his condition and asked when he might return to the job in the first message. In the second, the same guy wanted to know if he thought he’d be back to work by Saturday for a major event. Beckett’s followed and was shortest. “Check in once in a while, Slattery, in between being a hero. There are developments you need to know about.”

Slattery suppressed an urge to throw the phone at the wall with enough force to smash it, but he didn’t. The quiet interlude of the last two days, resting and loving and trying to heal ended when he heard Beckett’s voice. It drew reality like a lightning rod. Although he’d talked with Sabetha about his options, it had been abstract, but now he realized he’d have to choose. Without deliberation, without any need to debate, he knew one thing—his security guard days were over. He wasn’t going back. On the heels of that definite decision, he made another. He would wrap up his investigation to get Beckett off his back and resign from Homeland Security too.

“Slattery?” Sabetha asked. “Is everything all right?”

He nodded. “Fine, just work stuff, nothing to worry about. Let’s go to the movies.”

The idea hit him spur of the moment. Sabetha gaped at him. “Are you serious? Do you really want to go out to see a movie? It would have to be a late showing.”

Slattery laughed. “No, honey, I meant watch something here but pop a big batch of popcorn with a little salt and a lot of butter. What do you think?”

“It sounds perfect,” she said. “How about I take a shower and get comfy in my pajamas and then we watch a movie, maybe two. Call it a double feature.”

“I like that idea a lot.”

While Sabetha showered, he walked around the apartment, testing to see how much his bad leg hurt and gauging his strength. If he planned to finish the investigation, he had to be in good shape, ready to handle whatever fate threw his direction. Tomorrow, he would go to the VA as planned. Familiar with their slow service pace, he figured it would take a good chunk of the day. Afterward, provided he wasn’t in too much pain, he would head over to The Swan, check out some hunches he had. Then he’d swing by his place, pick up a few things, and come back to the apartment. Hell, he might even stop by a supermarket and buy supplies to cook supper. Sabetha would be delighted and surprised.

If everything went down the way he hoped, he’d go back home to stay, with Sabetha at his side. She had appeared to be willing to go, but he’d ask her formally if she would and if she’d get married once his dealings with Homeland Security were finished. On a whim, he dialed his brother’s number.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Cash.” Their daddy gave each child a name representing something he hoped they would have, Pride, Hope, and Cash. “It’s Pride.”

His brother’s voice shifted from laid-back to wary, not surprising since Pride seldom phoned. “Is everything all right out there in California?”

“It’s not bad,” Slattery answered. “I called because I think I’m coming home.”

“Awesome! Mama would love a visit from you. She might even kill a fatted calf.”

Slattery laughed. “I’m not talking about a visit though. I’m planning to move back, for good.”

Cash whistled low and long. “Damn, that sounds fine. Did you give up on being a star?”

“Something like that,” Pride replied. “So, what do you think?”

“We’d love to have you back, bro. I miss you, so does everyone else. Mama’ll be over the moon, and Hope will be happy.”

“Good, but Cash, don’t say anything to them yet.”

“Okay, I won’t. So, when are we talking about? Now, next week, next month?”

“I don’t know yet. I have some loose ends to tie up out here, and I have to ask a lady a very important question.”

“’Bout damn time you found yourself a woman,” Cash said. “Is she a California blonde?”

“Naw, she’s an East Texas girl, through and through.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sabetha.” Slattery savored the sound of it.

“Is she as pretty as that sounds?”

“She’s beautiful.”

They talked a few more minutes, and then Cash said, “Let me know when you’re coming, brother, and when to share the news.”

“Will do,” Slattery said. “Thanks.”

“For what?” his brother said and hung up.

Settled down on the couch, a huge bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap and one arm around Sabetha’s shoulders, Slattery sighed with contentment. She snuggled closer as they watched an older movie about Ritchie Valens, the singer born in Valenzuela, starring Lou Diamond Phillips in the title role. The classic rock resonated within. Although he had work ahead of him, Slattery had every confidence he’d finish the case, cease being a security guard and a federal agent, and that Sabetha would say yes when he asked. For the first time in a long while, pride lived within his heart. He could and would do all of it, he decided, and it would turn out perfect.