The Return(20)

“I appreciate that.”

“How do people even know they have it? How did you know?”

Strangely, I had the impression that she wasn’t asking for conversation’s sake, or even because she was particularly interested in me. Rather, I had the sense she was asking because she was curious for her own reasons, whatever those might be. In the past, I likely would have tried to change the subject, but regular sessions with Dr. Bowen made talking about my issues easier, no matter who was asking.

“Everyone’s different, so the symptoms can vary, but I was pretty much a textbook example of the condition. I alternated between insomnia and nightmares at night, and during the day, I felt on edge almost all the time. Loud noises bothered me, my hands sometimes trembled, I got in ridiculous arguments. I spent almost a year feeling angry at the world, drinking more than I should, and playing way too much Grand Theft Auto.”

“And now?”

“I’m managing,” I said. “Or, at least, I like to think I am. My doctor thinks so, too. We still talk every Monday.”

“So you’re cured?”

“It’s not something that can really be cured. It’s more about managing the condition. Which isn’t always easy. Stress tends to make things worse.”

“Isn’t stress part of life?”

“No question,” I admitted. “That’s what makes it impossible to cure.”

She was silent for a moment before glancing at me with a wry smile. “Grand Theft Auto, huh? For whatever reason, I can’t picture you sitting on a couch playing video games all day.”

“I got really good at it. Which wasn’t easy, since I’m missing fingers, by the way.”

“Do you still play?”

“No. That was one of the changes I made. Long story short, my therapy is all about changing negative behaviors into positive ones.”

“My brother loves that game. Maybe I should get him to stop.”

“You have a brother?”

“And a sister. Sam is five years older than me, Kristen is three years older. And before you ask, they both live in the Raleigh area. They’re married with kids.”

“How did you end up here, then?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as though debating how best to answer before finally offering a shrug. “Oh, you know. I met a boy in college. He was from here, and I made the move after I graduated. And here I am.”

“I take it that it didn’t work out.”

She closed her eyes before opening them again. “Not the way I wanted.”

The words came out quietly, but it was hard to read the emotion behind them. Regret? Resentment? Sadness? Figuring it wasn’t the time or place to ask, I let the subject drop. Instead, I shifted gears. “What was it like growing up in a small town? I mean, I thought New Bern was small, but 2,500 is tiny.”

“It was wonderful,” she replied. “My mom and dad knew just about everyone in town, and we left our doors unlocked. I knew everyone in all my classes, and I’d spend my summers riding my bike and swimming in the pool and catching butterflies. The older I get, the more I marvel at the simplicity of it.”

“Do you think your parents will live there forever?”

She shook her head. “No. A few years ago, they bought a place in Atlantic Beach. They already spend as much time there as they can, and I’m pretty sure that’s where they’ll end up when they finally retire. We actually had Thanksgiving there last year, and it’s just a matter of time now.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“How did you end up working for the sheriff’s department?”

“You asked me that before.”

“I’m still curious,” I said. “Because you didn’t really answer.”

“There’s not much to say about it. It just kind of happened.”

“How so?”

“In college, I majored in sociology, and after I graduated, I realized that unless I wanted to get my master’s or a PhD, there weren’t a lot of jobs in my field. And when I moved here, it became clear that unless you own a business or have a job at Cherry Point or work for the government or the hospital, you’re limited to service jobs. I thought about going back to school to become a nurse, but at the time, it seemed like too much effort. Then, I heard the sheriff’s department was hiring and on a whim, I applied. I was as surprised as anyone that I was accepted into the training program. I mean, to that point in my life, I’d never even held a gun. And that’s what I thought it would be like—bad guys, dangerous situations, shoot-outs—it’s all about the gun, right? That’s what they show on television, anyway, and that’s all I knew. But once I got in, I quickly figured out that it was more about people skills. It’s about defusing situations and calming emotions whenever possible. And, of course, paperwork. Lots of paperwork.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s like any job, I guess. There are parts about it I like, and other parts that I don’t. You occasionally experience things that you wish you hadn’t. Gut-wrenching things you can’t forget.”

“Have you ever shot someone?”

“No. And I’ve only had to draw my gun once. Like I said, it’s not what you see on television. But you know what?”