Coming Home

Time slowed to a crawl. Lately it felt like I was just showing up to work. Charlie was dedicated to getting his vision as close to perfect as possible. He had signed on board at a local community college to teach some military history as soon as his doctor cleared him. Matt was about to leave for tour, promoting what I could only describe as an amazing concept album. Meanwhile, I felt stuck.

It happened frequently since my first injury. I would get these bouts where I didn’t want to do anything. It was like all my anxiety and worry flared up and told me that nothing I did would ever be good enough. It was that little voice that had made me join the Marines. It made me want to be Force Recon, took away my leg, my arm temporarily, and now it was tell me to sabotage my job.

It was telling me that I wasn’t actually helping anyone. Truth me told, I didn’t feel like I was. It felt like I was just going through the motions and telling people what they could do. I wasn’t guiding anyone anymore. The entire reason I became a social worker was to help people who normally fell through the cracks. Now I was letting them.

Banging my head against my desk, I tried to take in a deep breath. If I didn’t want to do social work anymore, what would I do? I couldn’t let the men in my life buy things for me. That wasn’t the person I was. But much like Charlie, I missed the military. Unlike Charlie, they would never take me back. I wouldn’t even be allowed in as a trainer. Without my leg, I felt worthless.

It was something I tried to keep hidden from the boys. Matt had enough to worry about between his depression, the tour, and worry for Charlie. Charlie had enough to worry about between his PTSD, alcoholism, and dealing with his injuries. They didn’t need to add me into the mix. I was Rae “Lady Reaper” Martinez. I could figure this out.

Standing up, I left my office. Something had taken over my body, and I was determined to finally take control of my life. I let circumstances get the better of me. If I didn’t want to be a social worker anymore, I wasn’t going to be. I found myself knocking on my partner’s door.

“Come in,” he said. He was focused on some paperwork, barely paying attention to me.

“Michael, we need to talk.” I closed the door to his office and sat down. “I can’t do this anymore. The last six years have been amazing, don’t get me wrong. Being able to help my brothers and sisters in arms has been indescribable. But I do not feel I can do it anymore. I’m not trying to help. It would be better for my patients to have someone that was ready and willing to help them. That’s not me anymore.”

Michael’s eyes widened as he set down his pen. “Rae, what brought this on?”

“Charlie’s injury. I want to be back in it, Mike. I know the military won’t let someone injured like me back in, but I’m going to see what I can do. They’re my family, and I just don’t feel I’m helpful here anymore.”

He nodded. “You can always come back, Reaper.”
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Dozens of young men sat next to me. They were all in their early twenties and late teens. These were the new batch about to be sent over to a war that wouldn’t care if they died. If that was jaded, it was meant to be. I had seen war. I had been in war. I was war.

“Okay, everyone up.” It was a recruiter and someone I knew had spent a good while in the Marines. He had the hardened looks of someone who had killed and would kill again.

“We’re going to do a group interview. There’s a special person here that you all need to meet.” They motioned for us all to head out back. There were so many questions running around my mind, but I refused to let any of them see that. Men could always sense weakness, not as well as women though.

“Sit.” They all sat. I folded my arms across my chest. They had no idea that I was missing a leg and couldn’t get down on the ground.

The hardened Marine approached me. He got down into my face. “I said to fucking sit, recruit.”

A smirk played along my face as I saw that I outranked him. “You know you’re supposed to salute a commanding officer, Staff Sergeant?” My voice was dripping venom.

All the recruits were looking at me, including the Marine that wanted them all to sit. His eyes were bulging out of his head. The staff sergeant nearly imploded on the spot. No one talked to Marines like that. They were the few, the proud.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I smiled and pulled out my military ID. “I would be Lieutenant Rae Martinez, jackass. I’m not here as a recruit.”

His face turned ashen. My name was synonymous with many things. If you were any kind of Marine, you had heard my name. I had been the first female allowed in combat. I had been the first female Special Forces Operative. I was a Marine that meant fear. I was Lady Reaper.

Slowly, his hand formed into a salute as did the other Marine’s. “What are you doing at a recruitment office, Reaper?”

“I heard there’s a position available. I may not be able to perform active duty responsibilities anymore, but I miss my Corps.” I handed him my resume. “I think I can help bring you in some boys.”

“No fucking doubt, Reaper. Welcome abroad.”

Notes

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