Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

Their infectious laughter and obvious love for one another, their lives, their children, and their home made me walk away from the meeting with a new sense of purpose and vigor.

And here I was, reminiscing about all that happiness—that which we didn’t have.

The picture of Theo gracing my desk caught my eye, and I leaned back in my office chair, thinking about all I had learned since then, all the phases Theo had gone through, most of them predictable, some of them not. But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that PTSD could be tricky. Some days, Theo seemed fine; others, he did not. Some days his anger barely simmered; other days, it boiled. And then there were days where he looked as though his tether to life had thinned, desperately.

Despite having Rick Sullivan as a good role model, Theo hadn’t risen to the challenge placed before him as well as Rick had. The Theo I left that morning, the one who barely lived—he wasn’t the same anymore. Sure, he still had good days when his humorous and gentle side surfaced, like we’d seen on Father’s Day. But other times, he seemed far more depressed than I would have expected. He didn’t hold a consistent positive attitude, like Rick. What I’d seen in his eyes sometimes in the evening—I knew what it was. Theo was losing the fight. Taking up the battle wasn’t in his makeup, or there was something he detected in me—that floundering perhaps. If he found out about me and my fascination with Andrew...what would happen to him or to us?

Chapter 14: Theo

The burgers at the Kennedy Grill used to be my favorite until I came back from Afghanistan. At that point, the thought of eating meat was too much, most likely because the charred flesh once possessed a true life, a potential that hadn’t been realized, unless sitting on a plate waiting to be devoured counted as potential. Sadie would have said plants have souls too. No surprise here: I didn’t buy it.

But the smell of the place made my mouth water in a way it hadn’t in a long time—the aroma of peppers, garlic, and cumin hung in the air. I glanced around the place, my gaze landing first on the metal salt and pepper shakers, then the silverware against the white napkins. Location never mattered: targeting anything metal seemed to be my new superpower. Soft music—something unidentifiable but appealing to Sadie—filtered through the speakers.

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text.

Found a booth in the back.

I wound around the bar and down two stairs where Andrew waited. He tipped his head back in a manner I was beginning to view as “Andrew style.” Doc would be glad I’d noticed something that made him stand out from all the other people I encountered during my day. “Means you’re not always focused inwardly,” she’d say.

Hesitation made me pause, a slight worry the blinking neon sign affixed to the ceiling at the edge of the bar would trigger something in me, so I chose a seat with my back to the sign. It put me right across from Andrew, who, in the darker lighting of the bar, recalled Liam, the friend I’d lost. I’d been around Doc enough to understand maybe I was holding onto Andrew as a way not to forget Liam. If that was true, why was I holding onto Sadie?

Andrew didn’t know about Sadie though, and he had no reason to. I pulled a menu toward me, hoping he said nothing about the bandages on my hands. Doc’s voice rang in my ears: “You can get away with a hell of a lot if you keep those manners intact.” If anyone had told me I’d be seeing a therapist who placed so much emphasis on manners, I’d have called them crazy. Of course, I never thought I’d end up seeing a therapist either. Sometimes, life was cruel.

“Did you already look at the menu?” I held one out to him.

His gaze flicked to the bandages and then back to my face. “As sad as this sounds, I get the same thing every time I come here.”

“Why is that sad?” The plastic edge of the laminated menu grated against my fingertips.

“Makes me remember how old I am, how set in my ways. You’d think I would live a little from time to time, but not when it comes to my burger.”

“Ha! There’s a T-shirt for you,” I said. “Never come between a man and his burger?”

“Did someone actually say that? That Guy guy, right? The one on television, goes and eats a lot, and his hair...Guy Ferrari! He’d say something like that.”

“You mean Fieri. I used to have a friend who loved that show.” Liam. Somehow, thoughts of him came up every time Andrew was around. “So, I haven’t been here in a while. Any thoughts about what else might be worthwhile? I’m not eating too much red meat these days.”

“Any reason why not? You look as healthy as a horse.”

If Andrew knew the state of my brain, he wouldn’t be saying that. But my body did look healthy—with the exception of my hands. “Nah, no reason, other than I enjoy chicken and fish better.”

“Then go with the fish and chips. They are good, if you’re not afraid of a little grease.”

“Sounds good.” I placed the menu on the table. “So where are the kids tonight?”

“At Grandma’s house. Yes, it’s a weeknight, but the kids love my ex’s mom and go to bed fine for her. I’ll get them in the morning and take them to school. Works out well for me to get a break.”

“A break. Do the kids live with you full-time?”

The more information I had, the better prepared I would be if I signed those damn papers and moved out. Part of my reasoning for delaying involved the kids. I hadn’t done much right in my life, but those three...

“Yes and no. They split