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The hospital in Germany was a blur. Thankfully. By the time he’d come back to the States he was feeling a little better. Physically. Mentally, not so much.
Yeah, he was alive. Which, at the moment, didn’t seem like any great shakes. Because the reality was, he had no fucking clue what he was going to do with his life. He’d been in the army since he was seventeen years old. His entire adult life. He didn’t know how to be a civilian. A veteran. A wounded veteran. A veteran with one lousy leg.
But the dreams came less often now. The phantom pain was still there. But not as bad. Not constant. The doctors hoped he’d gradually stop having it completely. They told him it was a good sign that the phantom pain was lessening so soon after the amputation. It didn’t seem like soon to him.
Levi was doing everything he could to help him. But Asher didn’t want to need help. He couldn’t think of one damn thing he really wanted to do. Saturday he was going “home.” To Levi’s house. Asher had only seen the house once, when he’d been on leave and come to see Levi not long after he bought it. He remembered it was big and there was a pool and it sat on a huge piece of land near downtown Whiskey River. He knew Levi had remodeled it some, but from what he’d heard he’d only done what he thought necessary.
*
Levi hadn’t known what to expect when he brought Asher home with him, but he’d hoped that the prospect of getting out of the hospital would give Asher something to look forward to. If it did, his brother didn’t show it.
“Are you going to be able to see a prosthetist closer to Whiskey River?” he asked Asher.
“Maybe.”
“And a physical therapist?” He’d probably need to see that person as much as the prosthetist.
“Maybe,” Asher repeated.
“Until you do, you’ll have to go to San Antonio whenever your leg needs adjustments, right?”
“Yes.”
“I can take you to your appointments. I know you’ll be able to drive but if you drive an hour and a half each way you’ll be too tired for therapy or anything else. Plus the doctor hasn’t cleared you to drive yet, has he?”
“No.”
“Can you speak in a sentence that contains more than one word?” Levi finally asked, exasperated as hell as he pulled up to a stop sign.
“Probably not.” Asher held up two fingers.
Well, that’s something, Levi thought, heartened to see a little bit of a smile.
“Is there anywhere you want to stop on the way home? Anything you need that I might not have at home?” Levi asked Asher.
“No.”
Back to one-word answers. Asher had been looking out the window, barely talking on the drive, no matter what Levi said or asked. In the past Levi would have given him shit until he started talking again, but their relationship wasn’t the same now. All Levi knew was that this shit wasn’t going to work. Maybe he was simply in pain. It seemed like Asher had talked more while he’d been in the hospital. But he’d probably been on more pain meds than he was today.
“Muriel has been cooking for days. She’s convinced she needs to fatten you up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Three words. Whoopee-shit. “Tell that to Muriel.”
Asher simply looked at him and shrugged.
Whenever Levi got irritated with Asher, which unfortunately was pretty damn often now, he tried to imagine how he would react if he lost his leg. He suspected he wouldn’t handle it nearly as well as Asher did. But he didn’t know. He’d never been in the military and he’d never lost a limb. Or lost friends in combat. Or experienced any of a number of things he could only guess Asher had experienced. One thing Levi had learned from the two support sessions he’d gone to was to encourage Asher to find a support group for veterans. There wasn’t one in Whiskey River, but there were some in Last Stand, Fredericksburg, and Marble Falls, none of which were too far away. Asher was probably like him in that he might not be a group sharing kind of guy, but in Levi’s opinion, he’d have to get over that. However, that was an argument for another day.
Levi pulled up to the house into the circular driveway and parked. Today he’d chosen to drive a 1975 vapor-gray Cadillac Seville. It was easy to get into and out of, and the wheelchair fit easily in the trunk. “Do you want your crutches or the wheelchair?”
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll get the wheelchair.” He brought the wheelchair around to Asher and started to help him get out of the car but Asher refused.
“I can transfer myself. Push it up here and put the brake on and I’ll handle it.”
Levi knew Asher had learned to transfer himself from bed to wheelchair and wheelchair to shower chair among other things, but going from car to wheelchair seemed like it would be harder. Asher handled it fine. Even though he’d lost weight and muscle since he’d been in the hospital, he’d started out in great shape. Hell, he was Special Forces. He had to be fit. Once Asher was in the wheelchair, he rolled up the ramp to the front door. Levi opened it and stood aside to let Asher go first.
