Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“They didn’t even have the term PTSD back then. But what those boys saw and did? Nothin’ prepared them for it. It changed them forever, and not in a good way. The soldiers who fought in World War Two never talked about that. They were expected to just get back to their civilian lives and carry on like the last four years of Hell had never even happened. Like they were supposed to hit some big reset button. And they did. With varying degrees of success. Or failure.” He reached over and tapped the photo. “Like your grandfather.”

“So he had PTSD?”

His father nodded. “That’s what they would call it now. He seemed to think I was the enemy, Will, that he had to attack. Relentlessly. With his fists and with his tongue. The mind games he played with me were just... cruel. One time he even called me by a Japanese name.” Dan took off his glasses and wicked the moisture from his eyes. “Damnedest thing,” he said hoarsely. “Like he was livin’ it all over again. The whole nightmare. A big, strong, brave man, reduced to... reduced to that.”

Reel and Robie continued to watch him, both of their faces tightly drawn, as though they could feel the older man’s pain.

“So when I turned seventeen, you’re right, I left. No, I retreated . He couldn’t touch me then. I had my life to lead and I led it. Without him. Because with him, I was done.”

“But you joined the Marines, too. Right in the middle of Vietnam. You knew you were going to be in combat.”

“I know.”

“So why? After all that?”

Dan didn’t speak for nearly a minute.

“As crazy as it sounds when I say it, I guess I wanted to show my old man that you could fight a war and not come home the way he did.”

“They really didn’t understand PTSD after Vietnam, either,” said Reel slowly.

“No, they didn’t. And we didn’t come home to tickertape parades like the World War Two boys did. We came home to hatred and disgust and... maybe even worse, indifference. After gettin’ your ass shot up for years in jungles you couldn’t find on a map, it was a little... disheartenin’.”

“So what you did to me?” said Robie slowly.

Dan leaned back in his chair. “I guess what I showed, son, is that it’s impossible to fight a war and not come home changed. At least speakin’ for Adam and Dan Robie.” He cleared his throat. “Funny how the mind works. When I was yellin’ at you or roughin’ you up I could see in my head my father doin’ the same to me. And I’m not tryin’ to make light of what I did to you, but what he did to me was even worse. And part of me was tellin’ myself I would never do that to my own boy, while the other part of me was doin’ just that.”

As his father sat forward and put his hands on the table, Robie could see that they were trembling.

Dan said, “But most vets don’t do what we did to their children. And I thank God for that. I thought I was strong, but I actually turned out to be one weak son of a bitch.”

He rubbed his nose and then took out a handkerchief and blew into it.

“And you were a popular kid here, Will. Sports star, all the girls were after you, but you were a good kid, you helped people. All you had goin’ for you, you never once thought you were better than anybody else when you sure could have.” Dan paused. “I had every reason to be proud of you. And a part of me was. You were my boy. But another part of me, at least the one that won out, wasn’t proud. Maybe I was jealous. Because you had the life I’d wanted and never had. So... so I guess I had to ruin it for you. Make it more like mine. I don’t know, son. I’m not a shrink. I can’t analyze it any more than that. You had every right to hate me. The years we... we could’ve been... a family. Wasted. All gone.”

Several moments of silence passed before Robie said, “Why are you telling me all this now?”

Dan glanced at his son’s arm and then up at his face. “Talk is cheap, but actions... actions, son, are the real deal. You came back to help me. Nearly got killed doin’ it.” He paused. He held up one finger. “And when you came back here you asked me for one thing. You asked me for the truth. So I guess it was time.” He took out his wallet again, slid out another picture, and handed it to Robie.

“I have two regrets in life, son. That was the first.”

Robie looked down at the photo of his mother.

“And the second?” asked Robie as he stared at his mother’s image.

“That would be losing you.”

Robie lifted his gaze to meet his father’s.

The older man’s eyes were filled with tears.

And then Robie’s eyes filled, too.

Another first.

Robie said, “You don’t have to look back anymore. Just look forward.”

His father shook his head. “What do I have left?”

“Well, you have Ty.” Robie drew a breath and added, with an encouraging glance from Reel, “And you have me.”

His father gripped his hand even as the tears trickled onto his cheeks. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so damn sorry.”

“We’re all sorry for something. But we need to move on, both of us. And we’ll do it together.”

Robie put his good arm more tightly around his dad’s broad shoulders and the two men just held on to each other.

Jessica Reel put a hand up to her eyes, rubbed the moistness away, and then looked away, giving the two men a respectful privacy.

Hours later the small jet lifted off into a clear sky over southern Mississippi.

Robie, Reel, and Blue Man were the only passengers on board.

Robie looked out the window as the rugged terrain of the Magnolia State fell away.

He silently said good-bye to the forests, the abundance of chickens, and the Pearl River. And the gators lying in wait therein.

And to the ghosts of his past that had haunted him so, but a bit less now.

As the plane leveled out Blue Man rose and poured out three drinks from the small bar. He handed glasses to Robie and Reel before retaking his seat.

Robie said, “You never did say why you came down here.”

“Didn’t I? Well, perhaps I didn’t.”

“And?” said Reel expectantly.

“It’s all about asset management,” said Blue Man, taking a sip of his drink. “You are my assets and it’s my job to manage you properly. That involves me inserting myself in situations that, at first blush, seem of a personal nature but may impact the professional side.”

“Well, that’s an answer that says nothing,” replied Reel. Then she lifted her glass in silent praise.

“What did you tell my father about me?” asked Robie.

“I told him that he had a son who had served his country faithfully and well under the most extreme conditions imaginable and at the constant risk of his life.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“Why, is that important to you?”

“It might be.”

Blue Man appraised them both. “After your assorted injuries heal, will you be returning to the field?”

“Do we have a choice?” asked Robie.

“Well, of course you do.” He glanced between them before his gaze resettled on Robie. “It’s just that in your case it may be a more complicated one.”

“What if I told you I can’t answer that question yet?”

“I would say that was perfectly reasonable and that we should adjourn this discussion until a later time. For both of you.”

A little over two hours later the jet glided to a landing at a private airstrip, and they deplaned.

Robie helped wheel Reel toward some waiting vehicles while Blue Man walked next to him.

“He said he would have expected nothing less,” said Blue Man.

“Who?”

“Your father, when I told him what you did for us.”