Dirty Work (7 page)

Me: Well, that limits my options.

Justin Timberlake: I don’t think you’re considering your options anymore.

Me: Oh, really?

Justin Timberlake: Really. And Reagan—I’m not either.

“
T
itan
,” a man yells as I make my way through the crowd in Carbondale, shaking hands and kissing babies. I look around because the voice is familiar, but I see no one. “Titan!”

The crowd parts, and I can see him, sitting in a wheelchair about ten feet away. I’m stunned and don’t move right away. “Jim?”

I haven’t seen him since the day I was discharged from Walter Reed. We served together, fought together, and he was with me on that fateful day when we were ambushed.

“It’s me, all right,” he says with a giant smile and wheels closer to me.

“Please step aside,” I tell the lingering crowd. “A fine US veteran is trying to make his way up here.”

The people move out of the way, and Jim comes to a stop in front of me. “Look at you, kid. You’re doing well for yourself.” He smiles, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepen.

He looks older, but then, so do I. Being in combat will do that to a man. We’d seen too much. Experienced things no person should ever have to endure. But it’s what we signed up for when we enlisted. No one forced us to sign the paperwork, handing over our lives to the American government for four years. We made the choice, and we have to suffer the consequences.

“I’m trying.” I laugh softly. “You have some time to stick around for a bit? I’d love to catch up.”

He motions toward his wheelchair. “I have all day. I’m going nowhere in a hurry.”

I give him a halfhearted smile. It’s hard to see a man who had always been so strong and active sitting before me in a wheelchair.

I lift the rope, making enough room for him to wheel by. “See that guy in the gray suit?” I ask, and when he nods, I continue. “He’s my campaign manager. Tell him you’re with me, and he’ll escort you to the bus.”

Jim holds out his hand, and I shake it without hesitation. “Thanks, Jude.”

I rest one hand on his shoulder as we shake. “It’s so fucking good to see you, man.”

“You too,” he says before wheeling toward Carl.

I continue my hand-shaking and thanking the people for waiting around to see me. The entire time, I can’t get Jim off my mind. Why is he in a wheelchair? He still has use of one leg, so I can’t wrap my mind around why he isn’t using a prosthetic.

When there are only a few people left in the crowd, I say good-bye and head straight for the bus.

“We need to talk.” Carl stops me before I can get within ten feet of the bus.

“What’s up?” I stop and am already undoing my shirt.

“How well do you know this guy?” He says “guy” like it’s a dirty word.

I narrow my eyes at him. “We fought together and were injured together. He was with me the day all hell broke loose.”

He rubs his chin and puckers his lips. “Hmm. He could be useful.”

I shake my head and shut that shit down right away. “I’m not going to use him to further my campaign. Get that shit out of your head.”

“Don’t say no so quickly. Just think about it.”

I’m still glaring when I give him a quick nod and motion for him to get out of the way. “Give us at least an hour before you show your face on the bus.”

He glances down at his watch and steps aside. “One hour. No more. We have to…”

“Strict schedule. I know, Carl,” I call over my shoulder before I make my way up the stairs.

When Jim sees me, he whistles. “Is all this yours?”

I shake my head and slide into the booth across from him. His wheelchair is toward the back of the bus. “It’s rented. What’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I was in a bad way for years, brother.” Jim touches the scruff on his face, rubbing against the grain with his fingertips. “I shut the world out and everyone in it. Took me years before I finally started living life again.”

“Why are you in a chair? Didn’t the VA hook you up with a leg?”

He nods slowly and sighs. “I’m in the process now. I should have it any day now. That took longer than expected too.”

I lean forward and clasp my hands on top of the table. “How long?”

“I could’ve been fitted for one before I was discharged from the hospital, but I told them to fuck off. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the bullshit that came along with it. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.”

“When did you decide to get one?”

“About six months ago. The VA is so backed up that everything moves at a snail’s pace.”

My eyes widen. “Six fucking months? That’s unacceptable. Want me to try to move it along quicker?”

He shakes his head and laughs. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want any special favors. It’ll happen. There are people worse off than me that need their help first.”

I’m gutted. No vet should have to wait to regain their ability to walk. “Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need me to step in. I have some pull now that I’m running for Senate.”

“And a big mouth,” he adds before laughing. “Did you hear about Kurt?” His face darkens, and all traces of happiness disappear.

“No.” My gut twists because I know whatever he’s going to say next isn’t good.

“He killed himself.”

Even though I braced myself for the news, it still rocks me to the core. “What happened?” My hand covers my mouth, and I feel tears threatening. I’m not a crier, but the thought of losing a fellow Marine after he endured so much has me on the edge.

“He took his own life. He couldn’t deal with shit anymore. I guess he was still haunted by what happened that day.”

I close my eyes and images flash in my mind, vivid and gruesome. “It took me a long time to deal with my feelings about what happened to us, Jim. I still struggle with it today. Sometimes I wake up screaming and covered in sweat. I don’t know if it’s something I’ll ever get over, but then again…” My voice trails off, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I don’t ever want to forget what we went through. When did it happen?”

He rubs his forehead with three fingers and grimaces. “A few weeks ago. He left a note for you. That’s why I’m here. He left one for everybody who was there that day.” He reaches into his front pocket and pulls a folded envelope out, placing it on the table before sliding it in front of me.

I’m taken aback and can’t touch it. Not yet. I stare down at the jagged cursive letters and wonder what’s inside.

“You’ll want to read it. It’ll make you feel better.”

My eyes flicker to his. “How can I feel better? He’s gone.”

He taps the envelope with his nail twice before shoving it closer to me. “He needed to get shit off his chest and make his peace. I was hesitant to read mine too, Jude, but it gave me closure.” I start to drag it back slowly when he places his palm on top of my shaky hand. “Do with it what you will.”

I nod and bite my lip, unsure of my voice.

“He respected us. He said we’re the only family he’s ever had. Just read it. Don’t pussy out on me.”

I force a smile. “I’ve never been a pussy.”

“You sure weren’t, but I can’t speak for the man you are today.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest and slide down the seat. “I’m the same guy, Jim. I just plan to kick ass another way.”

“Make us proud, kid.” He starts to scoot across the booth and swings his leg, half missing, over the edge and points to his wheelchair. “Can you grab that for me?”

“Where you going already? I thought we could have a beer.”

“Eh, I gave up drinking when I decided to get my life back together.”

I climb to my feet and look down at him. “I never knew you had the ability to turn down a beer.” I laugh because Jim took such pleasure in a drink that I find it hard to imagine him without one.

“It kept me in my shitty place for far too long. When I stopped drinking, I realized I didn’t have to stay a shut-in forever.”

I place my hand on his shoulder and stare down at him with nothing but love in my eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

“It’s mutual.”

We exchange glances before shaking hands. “If I need you, will you be available?”

He laughs. “Why would you need me?”

I walk down the aisle to grab his wheelchair. “Because you’ll keep me grounded. I may need your help or advice. There’s no one I trust more in this world to put me in my place than you.” I smile and shake my head. “You were always the first person to call me on my shit on the battlefield. This is another type of war.”

“Carry that outside. I’ll make it down the stairs,” he tells me before balancing on his one leg. “Politics isn’t for the faint of heart.”

The wheelchair is heavier than I expected, but I easily carry it off the bus and set it down on the pavement. “Don’t be a stranger, Jim. I’m serious about you joining me at some point. I could use another Marine on the road with me.”

He hops down behind me, holding on to the railing and steadying himself. “I’m there whenever you need me.”

I’m overcome with emotion at the thought of saying good-bye. After spending so much time together in the service, it was too easy to lose contact. “I won’t have you absent from my life again.” He holds his hand up to his forehead and salutes me. I do the same, puffing out my chest with so much pride. “Never again.”

“I’ll be cheering you on. Call me whenever, Titan.”

“Plan on it,” I say to him before he waves good-bye and wheels away.

When he disappears into the crowd, I climb back on the bus and swipe Kurt’s letter off the table. My hands are trembling as I lie down and begin to open it.

I hold my breath and force myself to read it.

Titan,

You are one of the greatest soldiers and men that I’ve ever had the honor to serve with. It was an honor fighting by your side and watching you shine in your finest hour.

If you’re reading this, then I’ve chosen to end my journey. Please don’t wonder what you could’ve done differently to change my mind. There’s nothing anyone could have said to save my soul.

I’ve been haunted since that day in Anbar. I thought being in the field every day was hellish, but it didn’t prepare me for coming home broken, trying to fit back into civilian life.

I’ve struggled with the things we did. The lives that were lost on both sides because of the decisions our leaders made. It seems like it was all for nothing. The world is no more safe, the US no more secure than it was on 9/11, but so many souls have been extinguished without a second thought.

I’m reminded daily of the things I saw. Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I can see. My injuries were the least of my worries when I returned home. My marriage ended because of my PTSD, and no matter what help I received, it did nothing to chase away my demons.

You, along with the other guys in the unit, are my only family. The ones I could count on to have my back always. Even today, I know if I’d reach out, you’d be here in a second to save me. For everything you did to save my life that fateful day, I thank you.

Don’t feel like you’ve failed me in some way. I just can’t go on with the remorse and sadness that guts me and gnaws at my insides. I just want peace, and this is the only way I know how to finally find it.

I will forever think of you as a brother and my savior. You gave me a fighting chance even if I wasn’t strong enough to continue on with my life.

As I write this, there are rumors about you running for Senate. Even though I won’t be there to cheer you on—just know that I’m by your side. Fight to represent every vet who doesn’t have a voice. Make all of our sacrifices worth something. Make sure this doesn’t happen to a new generation of men.

Make us whole and give us a reason to fight that’s worthy of the cost of a human life.

Your brother always,

Kurt

My eyes are filled with tears by the time I’m finished. There’s no one to send a reply to. No one to understand the loss I feel in this moment. Kurt’s gone. After everything we went through together, after all the moments of panic and fight, he’s gone. Just like that.

Regret overcomes me. Never have I felt so entirely hopeless in my life. Even in battle, I always had a plan and tried to stay two steps ahead of the enemy. I can’t do anything to save Kurt.

The only thing I can do is fight to win the election and make sure no other vet feels helpless and haunted enough to take their own life.

I glance down when my phone beeps and see that Reagan has sent me a text. My eyes are too blurry to make out the words. I don’t read it—my heart’s not in the mood for toying with her today.

“Ready to hit the road?” Carl asks, knocking on the door.

“Let’s hit it,” I reply and fold up Kurt’s note and shove it in my bag next to the bed.

His words are only for me. They’ll give me strength and remind me why I’m running.

In a country so dedicated to freedom, there should be more support and care given to the very men and women who defend that honor every day.

No one will make sure it happens unless I’m there to put the ball in motion. It’s going to be my platform. No one can look me in the eye and say I don’t understand what veterans are going through.