Page 114 of Feeding Hope
“This is plenty, thanks,” I murmured. I picked up a sandwich and resisted tearing into it. Four days had passed since I last ate. I was feeling weak and lightheaded, but I wouldn’t make myself sick. Katy beamed.
“How have you been?”
“Okay, thinking and pondering the meaning of life,” I replied, and Katy cocked her head.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Depends. I’ve done some soul-searching.” I clammed up and steeled myself for the endless questions.
“Did you avoid the bad weather?”
What? No inquiries? Katy was constantly surprising me. “No, the place I used to sleep…there was a situation.”
One of the guys had murdered three people, claiming they’d stolen his belongings. They hadn’t, but it didn’t stop him fromcommitting murder and fleeing. Naturally, I’d avoided that place ever since.
“Where have you been sleeping? Is it safe?” Katy demanded.
“In a big bush in the park. If someone tries to reach me, I’ll hear. Katy, don’t worry.”
“Alex, I can get you into a refuge; I’ve some contacts,” Katy said, and I held her gaze.
“That would be appreciated. As I mentioned, I did some soul-searching. It’s time I got help for my PTSD and possibly rejoined mainstream life again.”
Katy stared. “Why?” she whispered.
“There’s only one reason.”
“Say it.”
“You.”
Katy reached down and cupped the mug as she chewed her bottom lip.
“If I’ve overstepped, read this wrong…” I began saying, and Katy seized my hand.
“No! I’ve missed you terribly. Alex, I don’t want to pressure you into something you’re not ready for.”
“Trust me, you’re not. This is something I want to do. I had a lot of time to think these past ten days and confronted some home truths. Katy, I’ve got PTSD, you don’t need to know why, but I ran from life.”
For a moment, memories threatened to overwhelm me. Smoke, bombs, blasts, red blood, severed limbs. The images crowded the edge of my mind, and I ruthlessly shoved them into a box. Therapy was needed to deal with those.
“Are you an addict?” Katy asked.
“No. I’ve locked memories away but never sunk to drink or drugs to handle them. Instead, I ran from my life and future.”
“Sometimes we see things that can’t ever be unseen or forgotten. It doesn’t make someone weak to admit help isneeded; it makes us stronger.” Katy covered my hand again with her own.
“Honey, I can’t say I’ll succeed, but I want to try. Can you help?”
“Yes. Is there anyone we need to notify?”
I hesitated before answering, and Katy saw it. “No.”
“Let’s finish lunch and then I’ll make some phone calls,” Katy said.
For the first time in ten days, I smiled. This woman would own me, no doubt about it.
Katy
