New Chapter Twelve of Phantom of the Chapel

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“What do you remember about that night, Phil?” Dr. Barr asked.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Phil grumbled, taking his gaze toward the window, wondering how the sun could still shine even with the sandstorm blowing all around him. The parched air included acrid smoke. The intense heat was as much from the explosion as the baking desert.
“Then why are you here?” The female voice brought him almost back to the present moment, but not completely.
“I’m… compelled…” His voice trailed off, wondering as he did every day why he felt compelled to fight. Freedom. Protecting the innocent. Protecting the free world. It was all so abstract. There was nothing real.
“Why?”
“Why, what?” Phil met the doctor’s gaze again, fully aware of the cheerful office with green plants and clean air.
“Why are you compelled?” She asked.
“Compelled to do what?” Phil asked, confused and hazy.
“You tell me.” The doctor leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Come back when you’re ready to talk.” Dr. Barr stood and strode to her door then held it open for Phil to leave.
“Just like that?” He didn’t move from his chair.
“You’re wasting my time, and yours.”
“The Army pays you an hour whether we talk or not.”
“Screw the Army,” she said. “I’d rather sit here and read a novel than wait for you to get your head out of your rear end and start talking.”
“What novel are you reading?” Phil asked, more interested in thinking about superficial things like books and pretty green plants and the way Dr. Barr’s formerly blonde hair was now streaked with silver threads. Her polyester slacks and comfortable shoes paired well with the tan blouse that she’d borrowed from the seventies.
“If I told you War and Peace, would you believe me?” She had the tiniest hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth.
“No.” He fought the same grin.
“Fifty Shades of Grey?” She let the door close softly on its own.
“I wouldn’t believe that either.”
“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo?” Her tiny smile had grown along with Phil’s answering grin.
“Now that I can see you reading,” he said, nodding his head with a knowing smirk.
“What are you reading these days, Phil?” Dr. Barr said the words in a conversational tone with a hint of pointedness.
“Text messages from my girlfriend,” he answered honestly, his smile faltering.
“What message is she trying to send you?” Instead of returning to her chair, Dr. Barr leaned against her desk, not quite towering over him, but close.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“With a simple answer…” She waited for him to take the bait.
“That she loves me no matter what.” His answering whisper hid barely restrained emotion.
“Scars and all?” she asked.
“Inside and out,” he agreed.
“So, what’s your next step?”
“Guess I’m gonna have to tell you everything that happened that night.” Phil looked out the window again but this time he wasn’t triggered by the streaming sunshine.
He was able to stay in the present moment as he described the way the air tasted, how his ears rang for days, how his skin seemed coated with soot all the way down into the follicles of hair in his pores. The searing heat of his melting skin.
By the time Phil was finished talking, he was rolled into a ball at the corner of Dr. Barr’s sofa, and she had cancelled her next appointment.

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