Coming Home

The keys on my keyboard clacked as I typed up a new report. This was one of my least favorite parts of the day, writing up a report on an old or a new patient. My patients were so much more than a few words I typed up on a screen. They were more to me than what the questionnaire asked. It was hard to sum a person in just a few short words anyway.

A knock sounded on my door. "Hey, Martinez, I hate to bother you." One of my partners, Henry Branden, came into my office.

"What's up, Henry?"

He strode into my office and plopped down on one of my chairs. He looked exhausted, more tired than I had ever seen him. "Can you do me a favor? I just got a phone call from an old buddy of mine. We used to hang out all the time. Any way, one of his good friends is having some real trouble. They just got back from tour, and my plate is way too full for me to even think about helping this guy out."

I stopped typing and stared at my partner. He wasn't the only busy one in this office, and he knew that. We always had plates filled with way too much. There was no way I could add another person to my plate.

"Henry, I don't have room in my schedule for another full-time patient, especially one I haven't met before."

"He wouldn't be full-time. They just want an evaluation and then to help find someone near him. They just happen to be heading here for an interview."

I arched an eyebrow. "What kind of interview?"

"I don't know details," Henry said and sighed. "All I know is that they will be here in an hour, and I know all you are doing is paperwork. Please, Rae, please!"

Frustrated, I let out a sigh. "Fine. One hour eval and then I need him out of here."

He nodded and left my office. As he left, I could see some tension leave his shoulders. This line of work may have been even harder than anything I had ever done for the Marines. Being a social worker was both a blessing and a curse.
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My door opened and in walked my eval. I didn't even really look up from my laptop, still preparing the questionnaire I needed this guy to fill out. I heard him take a few steps and motioned for him to sit in the chair.

I still didn't look up. "We'll start with a few questions before we get into why you're here."

"I don't want to be here. I didn't want to be here to begin with, but now, I really don't want to be here." It was a voice I hadn't heard in six years. The mere fucking sound of it raised ever hair on my body. Six years. And it still got to me, under my skin.

"Get out," I said it quietly. It was much quieter than I ever expected it to be. There was so much anger behind it.

"I have to be here." His hazel eyes flashed. "I don't have a choice. It's the only way they will still let me tour."

"GET. OUT. OF. MY. FUCKING. OFFICE." The words were harsh now.

"I CAN'T!" His words were just as harsh, said in the voice he used to scream. "I have to be here."

"You need to get away from me. I am not dealing with this. I am not dealing with you!" I stood up and walked over to him. "Get out of my office before I do something I regret."

"Yeah, how will you do that?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest. "You've got one fucking leg. What can you do to me?"

I saw red for a solid five seconds. "Get out, Matthew."

His eyes flashed again. "This wasn't my choice, Martinez. If it was my way, I would never see your face again."

Notes

Sooooooo they met.