All the Cuts and Scars We Hide by Garry Michael

Three: Wyatt

Secret Knight

There were few things in life I hated more than being late. Thanks to that chatty tourist who spent ten minutes asking questions about those damned muffins, I wasn't just late, I was very late. Man, that guy. Who smiles at a stranger? What the hell was up with that?

Whatever.

I parked my red Chevy truck a block from the office and grabbed the box of muffins I’d ordered ahead of time because I knew how quickly they sold out, especially during summer.

Three doors past our waterfront office, I stopped by a manicured lawn that led up to a one-story grey bungalow. The house had a maroon door surrounded by flower beds full of red geraniums, the pink dogwood trees were in full display. I used the vintage brass door knocker to call and after two knocks, Mrs. Turnley answered.

“Coming!” she called. Seconds later, the door opened. “Hi sweety, how are you?” She opened the door wide and hugged me. Even though I’d expected the gesture, it still caught me by surprise. My body tensed, making me uneasy. After Afghanistan, I always felt uncomfortable with any level of affection.

“I’m sorry I'm a few minutes late. The café was busy with tourists. I got your muffins for your old lady’s brunch.”

“Thank you, let me grab my wallet.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“Oh, Wyatt, you’re gonna have to let me pay you sometimes. You do this for me every month.”

“You know I don’t mind, besides the café is about a mile from here and you don’t drive.”

Her eyes welled up and her features softened. “I don’t know what I would do without you and Avery. Especially you. Do you have to sail today? Do you wanna come in for a few minutes?” Her eyes were pleading.

“I have a few minutes.”

Her usual smile was back. She rubbed my arms as she showed me in.

Mrs. Turnley went to her kitchen with the box of baked goods while I stood in the living room and looked around. It felt like time stood still in her home.

Everything inside was original to the era of the home albeit in great condition. A testament to how this home was cherished. The brick fireplace with a wooden mantle was decorated with framed black and white pictures of Mrs. Turnley and her late husband George.

Some shots were taken from various vacations they had taken during a different time in their lives together. But one that stood out among the group was their wedding photo. Mr. and Mrs. Turney were a striking couple. She had the classic sixties look, mod hairstyle with a wide white headband and exaggerated upper and lower eyelashes, while Mr. Turnley stood proud with his suit that looked tailor-fit for his lean, but muscular physique.

“That was the happiest day of our lives,” she said behind me, holding two glasses of iced tea. She handed one to me and motioned for me to sit down on the sofa or the matching striped chairs. I decided on the sofa with the brown crocheted blanket draped over the back. She handed me a white ceramic coaster with a blue anchor printed on it. “He was so nervous that day, he was just drafted in the military the week prior and scheduled to leave a few days later.” She grabbed another framed picture of her husband from the side table and absently traced his image with her fingers. “He was different after he came back, he was easily agitated, tense all the time. But little by little it got better. It took months, perhaps years, but I got my George back.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, speechless. Her message was received. If only I was that lucky.

“Thank you, Wyatt, and not just for today, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, you know how to reach me if you need anything.” It was getting harder and harder to concentrate.

“You’re a good man. George had always thought you were one of the best kids out there. You marines stick together.”

Drinking the iced tea for something to do, I tried to stay present. She was just being kind, but anxiety was dragging me back into dark places. “We do,” I murmured after I cleared my throat. I needed to get out of there. “I should get going,” I stressed before draining my glass because I didn't want to be rude.

I said goodbye to Mrs. Turnley and walked to our office which was adjacent to a wooden dock where our boats were moored.

Lately, the San Juan Winds had monopolized most of my time. It was a whale watching and interisland cruise business that I built with my best friend Avery and his wife Elizabeth. Avery and I had known each other since we were in middle school. Our parents were best friends and because each of us was an only child, we developed a brotherhood that was stronger than any relationship I could ever remember. We had been through a lot of things together; from his father’s failed battle with cancer, my parent’s divorce, and my mom’s death.

I was his best man when he married his childhood sweetheart, Elizabeth, a year after our high school graduation. He was the first person I opened up to about my sexuality. I thought being gay would change the dynamics of our friendship, but I was completely wrong. He had been the support I needed when my own father kicked me out of the house for coming out.

We joined the United States Marine Corps together right after college because we wanted to be part of something bigger for our country. It was a decision we didn’t take lightly since his son, Elijah, had just turned one. I made it my mission to keep him safe for his family. Because unlike me, he had someone waiting for his return. That mission became harder to fulfill when they separated our brigade. Sometimes, it took weeks before we heard from each other and those were the longest weeks of my life; especially when news of fallen soldiers made its way to our barracks. The only time I was thankful for being separated from him was on the day of the ambush that took dozens of our comrades.

We were discharged almost at the same time four years ago. Although it felt like it was only Avery who came back from the war. The Wyatt who returned looked like me, sounded like me, but felt like a shell of a man.

Without anything else inspiring going for me, our business was something that I was proud of for several reasons. First, it had given me an outlet to focus my time and attention, so I didn’t wallow at home with my self-destructive thoughts. Secondly, it had given me purpose to go outside and engage with others when all I wanted to do was curl on the floor and let the days pass me by. And finally, it had given me the motivation to stop counting down days but let those days count. These reasons might not seem much to some but those were the things that differentiated the barely walking and breathing version of me to someone who resembled the living.

It wasn’t always easy. Hell, there were days when I questioned my sanity for starting something so out of my league. But with Avery and Elizabeth’s help, it’d been as smooth sailing as a cruise on a calm summer’s day. That was why I still felt guilty whenever I had to miss work because of the affliction I struggled to control. I was thankful that my last breakdown happened before my scheduled days off, so I only had to inconvenience Avery for a day.

Elizabeth was working on her computer with soft music by Adele playing in the background. “Mrs. Turnley?” she asked when I handed her coffee. She was perhaps wondering why I was almost an hour late.

I turned on my computer before answering. “Yup, she just needed to talk. You might want to warm that up.” I motioned to the cup of coffee that had been sitting in my truck.

“That’s sweet what you’re doing for her. How long has it been since Mr. Turnley died?”

“It will be two years next month,” I confirmed. “You and Avery do the same,” I deflected the attention away from me. And that was the truth, the three of us had been there for Mrs. Turnley since she didn’t have any kids and all her relatives lived in Seattle. “Have you confirmed the fishing group?”

Elizabeth nodded, her auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders. “Yes, they’re arriving on the eighteenth. That’s the week we’re moving to our new place, so you’ll be sailing with them.”

“That’s fine, does that mean I am off the hook for helping you guys move?”

“Nice try, you’ll be done with them before we even get started. By the way, you're sailing with Roy,” she continued.

“What? That man is so unreliable,” I groaned. “What about those three high school kids we hired for the summer?”

“I know, but we’re running on a skeleton crew that week. And the high school kids are camping that weekend. I can call and see if we can move it to a different day.”

“No, it’ll be fine.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were still on me and I had a decent guess why. I hadn't seen her since my attack and I never called to explain either. “What?” I exhaled, dreading the day already.

“Wanna talk about your emergency a few days ago?”

“Not even a little.” I stood up and marched to the kitchen to warm up my coffee.

“You know that we're here for you, right?” she called out after me.

I knew that. I knew that they’d do anything for me, and it wasn’t like I wanted to hide it from them. I didn't want my dark cloud to hang over them and I didn’t want them to look at me differently. I didn’t need them to remind me how broken I was. I saw that every day when I looked in the mirror.