“Half an ass cheek and what you see.”
Leaning back, I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to get my head around it. “Jesus. How bad did they said it was? Will you need skin grafts or whatever else they do for shit like that?”
I lowered my hands just in time to see him sitting down again and noticed that he favored one side. When he’d been on my lap, he’d had his left side closest to me, which was the non-burned side. As he sat down now, I watched him settle on his good side first, before gently lowering the other side down. How he was sitting with burns like that was beyond me, but Garrett had always been a tough son of a bitch.
“Nah, they seemed to think it would heal on its own. I could opt for grafts, but I don’t want to go through an anesthetic unnecessarily if all I’m going to have is some scarring. If it becomes an issue, I’ll do it. If not, then I’ll consider it proof that I survived the fires of hell.”
I could understand that. Garrett, myself, and Catalina all had a condition called Malignant Hyperthermia, so anesthetics were never a good thing for us and I suspected that this was why he was on indefinite leave now. Without the skin grafts, the area would need extra time to heal, but ever since they’d discovered that he had the condition when he was four and had his tonsils out and almost died because of it, anesthesia had always been a worst-case scenario for him.
The condition causes a fast rise in body temperature, major muscle contractions, increased acid levels in your blood, and a rapid heart rate when you have a general anesthetic. It was also life threatening and had scared the shit out of us when he’d been admitted into ICU after the routine surgery. Thankfully, they’d known what to do immediately and then we’d all had to go for testing to determine if we shared the same problem. As it turned out, everyone but Dad had it.
When Garrett and I were both eighteen, we’d had the medical caduceus symbol tattooed on our wrists with malignant hyperthermia beside it so that if we were in an accident, they’d see it. Catalina had done the same thing three years after us, and Mom wore a bracelet with it on. That was the tattoo people could see, but few knew the story about what had happened that day. The condition was also another reason I had a problem with needles.
“Fuck, man,” I groaned, realizing that this pretty much meant the end of his career. It might be four years of inactive service, but with medical leave on top of it? “Wait, explain why you’re out and not doing your inactive service on a base or something?”
Leaning forward, he threaded his fingers together, watching as Ranger walked up to him and nudged him. Giving in, he started scratching him under his ear, smiling when he groaned. “The deal was eight years active, four inactive. I’ve done nine active because of things going on in the world, and because I have to recover from the burns and they want me to see a therapist to ensure that any other effects of the accident are recorded, they’ve put me on medical leave pending a review. At any point they can call me back, but after talking to my CO, they decided they would adjust my inactive service to eighteen months, and they’ll review where the rest is served once I’ve come out of medical leave.”
“So, you don’t have a job?” I asked not understanding it. It had all seemed straightforward when he’d joined the ROTC after we graduated high school, and there had been a time when I’d been tempted to join with him, but then I’d decided that law enforcement was going to be my focus, so I hadn’t.
Shaking his head, he finally looked up at me, and for a second I saw how lost he was. Garrett was thirty-one now, and even though he’d been at college for four years, he’d been part of the military for thirteen years, it was the life he knew the best. “Nope. Like I say, they can call me back at any point, but inactive service means I’m not fulfilling any duties for the military so I don’t get paid.”
I made a mental note to call DB before I went in tonight to discuss the possibility of Garrett joining us. Once I knew if there was a position available, I’d mention it to him, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up without knowing the answer. “My wom… neighbor Rose is a nurse. She can help you out with your burns if you need it.”
Lips twitching, he looked out the window behind me, and then back at me. Sometimes when I looked at my brother, it was like looking in a mirror. People assumed we were actual twins when they saw us, and right now I totally got it. Obviously there were differences between us, but it was an easy assumption to make. Without the frown lines, the tight lips, and the stress that he’d been showing seconds ago, we looked just like each other.