Underwater Read Online Free Page A

and try something new. Worst case scenario? I wouldn’t like it and I’d get the hell out of there.
    Watching the fire crackle in silence, holding her hand in mine, I gave in and said, “Yeah, Lettie. We have a deal.”

“All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.”
    — Rumi
     

     
    F or two years, I’d been sitting in the same uncomfortable chair, week after week, waiting for the participants to show up. It always felt like eternity.
    Three hours.
    That’s how long I’d slept last night. Some nights were three hours, other nights only two. When I was lucky enough, I was rewarded with four. I couldn’t make the nightmares go away. They clung to my consciousness, pulling me back to the black days that changed my entire life forever. I was fighting a raging war within. A war where the enemy lived inside me…fed by my fears and constant anger, and eating me up from the inside. My opponent was invisible and invincible, and no matter how hard I fought, ultimately, I always ended up on the losing side.
    I was so fucking tired.
    Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or perhaps I was tired of being alone.
    Don’t even go there.
    It wasn’t a choice, just a fact. This was my life. There was no need to wish for things I could never have.
    A chill went through my body, alerting all my senses. Damn it, I hated the cold . After my injuries on the field back in Afghanistan, the doctors had to implant titanium inside my leg. Every time I was cold, a wave of pain went through my body and straight into my bones, reminding me of days I wanted to forget.
    It was a constant reminder of the things I’d lost.
    Looking out the window, I could see the sky beginning to darken. The heavy black-gray clouds were summoning the rain to fall and wash away another day.
    Checking my watch, I noted the time – a quarter to eight in the evening.
    Fifteen minutes before the beginning of the meeting.
    Forty-five more minutes until it ended.
    It wasn’t that I didn’t like to be here. I wanted to help out Bennie, the group instructor, with everything I could. God only knows how much he’d helped me and still does. He took me under his wing and helped me to stand up again. And I was still on the brink of crumbling, if I was honest with myself.
    My part in the meetings was to help Bennie with logistics, and when I was up to it, we tried to come up with interesting activities for the participants. If I was in the mood, I would throw out a word or two sometimes. But that rarely happened. I knew the only reason he asked me to work with him was because he was afraid I would jump off a cliff and lose it again. I knew this, and still I showed up without missing a day. I loved it here, but at the same time, I felt like I didn’t belong. I was used to being alone for so long that being around people made me uneasy. That was mainly the reason I was always sitting in the far corner, observing the meetings from the shadows.
    The door to the room swung open and Bennie entered with a big goofy smile. His wife had fought and beat cancer and that was one of the reasons Bennie had wanted to open this support group. He told me he felt like they were granted a miracle and he wanted to give back – in any way he could.
    “Hey man,” I said as I stood and walked towards him.
    “Hey, it’s chilly in here,” he said. “Why didn’t you turn on the heat?” he asked and then immediately walked over to the thermostat and turned it on himself. Shivering, he blew into his hands and then took a seat on the corner of his desk. “How was your day, D?” He was the only one who called me D. He thought it was cool. I, on the other hand, thought he was just too lazy to say my full name.
    “My day was fine, and stop calling me D. It’s annoying.”
    “Stop whining,” he said, giving me the finger. “You know