Friday, 16 October 2015

Waste (Part 4) - On the Move

An Iraq vet struggles with PTSD while a waitress has her own battles to fight. Joe is still not coping but will Jeannie be the one to help him move on?



Sad eye with tear  (Photo: galleryhip.com)

Before you start, make sure you read the preceding parts first!!

Read Waste Not (Part 1) - On the Street  here.
Read Waste Not (Part 2) - On the Hunt  here.
Read Waste Not (Part 3) - On the Edge  here.
 
 
Waste Not


Part 4  -  On the Move



Jeannie and Joe huddled around the lamp and shared the bags of food with Carson and Sean and swapped stories. Jeannie downed some slugs of bourbon and then went to have a shower. Carson and Joe sat down at the chess table and began to play. Jeannie came back, her hair wrapped in a towel and watched for a while. When they finished Carson smiled with satisfaction while Joe frowned with frustration and flopped back down on the sofa. Jeannie curled up next to Joe and nodded her head in time with the music.

“Tired?” he whispered.

“Not yet.”

He stared at the teddy bear, still lying askew on the floor, barely visible now in the shadows as the lamp dimmed and the dark shed walls closed in around them.

He remembered the town in Iraq. Friendlies. His squad was patrolling the market. Some kids were running in and out of the stalls, clutching toys, smiling, laughing - no idea what was going on around them. A couple of hours later the whole place went up. They went back and saw toys and clothes and bodies blown to smithereens. He found one little leg with a tiny shoe still on it. Poor kids. No one deserves that.

The sounds of an argument rose from the far corner. Blake and Freyja at it again.

Bang.

Joe recoiled. “Get down!” he screamed. “Incoming!”

Jeannie put her arms around him.  “It’s ok, just Freyja throwing something. You know what those two are like.”

He whimpered and curled into her. Carson raised his head and shouted into the darkness. “You two, keep it down over there.”

Joe’s shaking slowly subsided.

Sean held out the bottle of bourbon. “Have some more moonshine Joe. Chill out.”

Jeannie shook her head at him and waved the bottle away. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

She put one arm on his shoulder and the other arm around his waist, then shepherded him to their room. She flicked on the flashlight and helped him undress. He crawled into his sleeping bag. She then slipped into her sleeping bag beside him.

He rolled toward her and snuggled close as her arm enclosed him. His heartbeat still pounded in his chest. The scent of her shampoo filled his head with faded memories and he slowly relaxed..

She whispered softly in the darkness. “Ruck up soldier. There’s no Ali Baba here, no bombs. Everything is going to be ok.”

He pressed his head close in against her chest. She ran her hand through his hair. “Get some sleep. Next week I'll make a booking for you see the VA Wizard for some more counselling ok?”

He lifted his head slightly. “Don’t wanna see the shrink. Too much bad shit comes out.”

“Shhhh. It takes a while but it will help. You gotta keep at it.”

He snuggled into her again. She kissed him on the forehead. His hand reached across and held her. Then his head rose and he kissed her neck, then he reached under her t-shirt, feeling for the soft round warmth of her breast.

She removed his hand and wrapped him tightly in her arms. “Sleep now Joe.”

He began to sob into her shoulder. “I couldn’t make it without you Jeannie.”

“Shhhhh. It's ok. Everything will be ok.”

She clamped her eyes shut as silent tears welled up, then ran as rivulets down the deep red burn scars on her cheek.


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