There is a tremble in his hand that was never there before. A small thing, a vibration that jitters the coffee onto the diner’s sleek tabletop. The tremble doesn’t bother him, the memories looping through his hippocampus do.
He hunches against the bench seat, the stiff vinyl squeaking. His hair is not as full as it was in the nineties, but his vision still sharp. He watches a waitress tote coffee down the tight aisle. The scene cracks, gunshots rip the equilibrium. Her body twitches, her face confused by the red flower blossoming on her chest. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“More coffee, darling?”
His eyes pop open.
She is at the table, broad smile, blonde hair a halo. Big white teeth flash in her mouth. He remembers cobblestones under his boots. He shakes his head, at her and to dispel memories. His hands grip the table to quell the shake. He wills her to walk away. She does.
Small sounds assault him. He needs to hear, to listen for danger, but his heartbeat is too loud. Thoughts spin and fragment. Which hands hide weapons, which civilians will die? He needs to go home.
He leaves a handful of crumpled bills on the table, wears his shoulders on his ears as he shuffles out of the diner. His eyes dart and scan continuously. Mouth tight against the slack skin of his jowls.
Traffic is heavy. The reek of burning gas clogs the air, but he tells himself it isn’t real. Parked cars do not just explode, but he knows sometimes they do.
When he gets home, he unplugs the old landline from the wall, turns his cell phone off. The curtains squeeze light out of the room, he likes that. His recliner cradles his aging but not yet withered body. The tremble is less, and he vows not to leave the house again.
On the mantle, a faded photograph watches. A younger man, no, a boy, pert in his Canadian military uniform. So fresh the dust of basic still clings to his shins and the righteousness of the world to his grin. The boy they called a peacekeeper, sent out with weapons unprimed. He wished they’d warned him, that boy would become a man that would never know peace again.
There is a powerful tide of emotional resonance simmering just beneath the surface of these simple scenes 😃 Powerful + moving = beautiful 💯
The way you captured the quiet torment of PTSD through everyday moments is masterful. The contrast between the young peacekeeper full of hope and the man haunted by memories he can’t escape really stays with you.