***
The room was awash with sunlight when I stirred. I reached my arm around Shannie, but she wasn't there. The warm feeling in my heart vanished. The vacant burning sensation, which greets me every morning, pressed my chest down into the mattress. Getting out of bed is always an ordeal. The thought that last night was all a dream consumed me. A groan escaped me.
"Good morning," Shannie's voice called from somewhere in the room. Sitting up, I noticed Shannie sitting at the table in front of the window, her notepad on the table in front of her.
"Morning," I mumbled as images of last night raced in my mind. I watched Shannie cap her pen and stow her notepad in her backpack. It didn't really happen? I needed to look no further than my pillow for an answer. A curly, flaxen strand of hair glistened in the sunlight. I breathed a sigh of relieve.
"Checkout is in ten minutes," Shannie said sitting on the bed next to me. She put her arms around me and whispered into my ear. Her breath tickled me. "I'm sorry Just James. I'm sorry for everything."
"Huh," I asked hugging her back. I had my ideas, and I was about to get a good dose of what she was talking about, but it wouldn't be until seven and a half years later that I'd know exactly what Shannie was sorry about.
***
On the road, an uneasy silence settled between us. Resting in the passenger seat with my feet on the dash, I satisfied myself with an occasional glimpse of Shannie, her hair tossed about by the rushing wind, an occasional strand sucked through the open moon roof. Shannie looked straight ahead, focusing through her Oakley's on the highway. The radio graced us with Black from Pearl Jam, its lyrics defined Shannie and I. When we emerged from the Baltimore Harbor tunnel Shannie broke our silence. "Do you believe him?"
"Believe who?" I asked.
"Calvin," Shannie answered.
"Why would he lie?"
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Shannie averted her gaze long enough to give me a smile. "Wanna go to Atlantic City?"
"Sure, why not. I don't have anything better to do."
"That's the spirit."
We can finally put this to rest, I thought. My mind jumped to Calvin. "I saw it happen, I saw it all." His eyes pleaded his point. "And you see, you don't have to be in combat to get combat fatigue, you know what I'm saying. Lee knew something was up. He told me so. Said he had to keep an eye on Mitchell. Mitchell was a grunt in Lee's squad who was showing signs of combat fatigue."