Page 69 of Road to Absolution

“Some of our old timers call it combat neurosis. Nowadays, it is referred to as PTSD.”

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

“I realized it when Maverick spaced out in the hospital room. I’ve been given a couple more confirmations since then.”

“What can we do?”

“Be patient and understanding when they make rash decisions and behave erratically.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Has Mav told you what happened the night of the crash?”

“No. He changes the subject.”

“Understandable. Art does the same. He was tortured. Mav was burned alive. Neither one wants to relive any of that shit.”

I thought of the silent night terrors. “But they do.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it. They do every day and night.”

“They’ll never be the same?”

“No… but you’re not the same either. I’ve watched the toll this has taken on you.” He gestured to me being on bed rest. “The difference is you were given a solution.” He shrugged.

“What the Hell is the solution for them?”

He touched the tip of his nose. “Can you see Art going to a shrink?”

I winced. “That’s a barbaric term.”

Shrug. “To tame the beast—”

“You must understand it.” I blew out air, but then remembered. “Maverick went to meetings! Maybe he could again?”

Diesel smirked with a huff. “Oh, sure. I can hear it now. ‘Yeah, thanks for having me tonight. I’m here because I was chased down by some illegal bikers who tried to kill me but didn’t succeed because my wife’s dead boyfriend is actually alive with an illegal identity.’”

I threw the water bottle across the room.

“Yeah, the ugly side of the lines we cross make it so we can’t get conventional help.”

I tried to think of a solution, mumbling, “Unconventional, he says.” Then I thought of the song “Nobody Opened the Door”. Saying thoughts out loud, I said, “Run with the—” I stared at Diesel. “Bikes… Freedom.”

Beaming, he winked. After scrolling through his phone, he held it up for me to see. “I’m eyeing this one for him. Whatcha think?”

It was a Harley. Absolutely beautiful, the same blue as my ’69 Camaro, an older style motorcycle.

“What do I think?” My eyes welled. “That you are very smart.” I swallowed. “I think… I will give you an open check because Maverick has to have that bike.”

He tapped on his phone, then pulled it to his ear while smiling at me. “Joe… I’m good. I’m good… Yep, thanks for holding it for me. We’ll take it.” He kissed my cheek then walked out of the room, saying, “How soon can you deliver it?”

My heart sighing, I thought, You will have freedom, too, baby.