"I might be a bit slow," I say. Deep down, I know I’m not ready, but admitting it will be harder to do.
"You are going on convalescent leave.” He says the two words I’ve been dreading. "Come back in thirty days, and we’ll assess you again. I have no doubt you’ll be good to go, and you can sign that next contract with us." He smiles, and I nod. One thing I know is that you never go against the doctor's orders.
"Yes sir,” I say even though my heart is breaking. For the past six years, this is all I’ve known. This is all I’ve wanted.
"I’m looking forward to having you back." We stand, and I shake his hand.
"I’ll be back better than ever," I tell him, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind me softly.
The phone rings in my back pocket. Taking it out, I see it’s my father. “Hello,” I say, answering him as I walk out of the building.
"Hey," he says. “I was wondering if you were going to send me to voice mail," he jokes.
“I did that one time, Dad,” I say. “One time three years ago."
"And I’m still holding it over your head." He laughs now. “How did the meeting go?"
"I’m on convalescent leave,” I say, and the words are bitter in my mouth. It’s going to be a tough pill to swallow.
"What are you going to do?" he asks as I open my truck door.
"What do you mean?"
"Why don’t you come home?” His voice goes soft. “I’ll set everything up here for a physical therapist to work with you. You can even stay in the white house. You know that no one will bother you there." I laugh, knowing he is right. No one likes going there because it’s like a museum. He’s bargaining with me because I haven’t been home since I left all those years ago. Not once. "You know Grandma and Grandpa have been asking for you."
Starting my truck, I look out at the green trees and hear honking in the distance. "You have thirty days," he says, and I close my eyes.
"Fine,” I say, and I can hear him cheer from here. "Let me get my shit together, and then I’ll message you when I land."
"You call me when your shit is ready," my father says. “I’ll get you a plane."
"Fine,” I say, knowing I won’t be able to argue with him, and if I do, he’ll get on the plane and come and get me himself. I hang up the phone and make my way over to the house I share with five other fellow soldiers.
We are never here all at the same time, so it works out for us. I walk up the steps one at a time because my leg burns. Opening my door, I grab my green duffel bag and put my clothes in it. My phone rings again, and looking down, I see it’s my brother.
"Dad call you?" I ask, laughing. It’s good to hear his voice.
"No,” he says. “I was with him when he called you. Gotta say I thought he was going to cry."
"I’ve been telling you this my whole life." I grab my T-shirts. “I’m his favorite."
"Harlow is his favorite," he says. “Only because she won’t move out of the house."
"What the fuck is she still doing living at home?" I ask, shocked.
"Why don’t you ask her when you get here?" he says. “You need anything?"
"Nah, I think I’ll be good,” I say. “Are you with Dad?"
"He’s in the barn, why?" he asks.
"Tell him I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” I say, and he laughs.
"The plane was ready five seconds after you hung up on him. I’ll send you the information."
"Figures,” I say, turning now to sit on my bed. “See you soon."
"Fly safe,” he says and disconnects. The ping of a text comes through right after with the address of the private airfield.
I exhale, looking around the bare room. I haven’t really done much to it, the only personal things I have are the pictures on my dresser of some of the places I’ve visited.
Getting up, I take one more look around. “Be back in twenty-nine days," I tell the bare walls. As I’m leaving, I run into one of my roommates.
"Hey, where are you off to?" he asks, looking at my bag slung over my shoulder.
"Home,” I say, and his eyes go big. “It’s been a while."
"When are you coming back?" he asks.
"Not sure yet. But by next month,” I say. “See you then.” I look down when I get a text from my father.
Dad: Car is out waiting for you. No rush.
"My car is here,” I say. “Take care."
"Stay safe." I salute him as I walk out of the house. The car is parked out front, and the driver gets out to grab my bag.