Becoming One as Husband and Wife: A Self-help Novel

By Dr. Russ Rasmussen and Jeff Sievertson and JeffSievertson

Becoming One as Husband and Wife is the story of three couples at different stages of life, yearning to find harmony and unity in their broken marriages. Each of the couples find themselves dealing with struggles that are beyond their ability to solve on their own.

One young couple is trying to cope with addictions and infidelity. Another is struggling with the daily task of working long hours while raising kids but all of it leading to a marital disconnect. The third couple, who are doing their best as empty nesters, are fighting against a war-torn memory and a daughter who is struggling in her own abusive relationship. With the help of a humble yet troubled psychologist, they each learn new skills that lead to each other and to Christ, but for some, the pain may be too much to overcome.

After many years of serving his clients, Dr. Russ Rasmussen wanted to convey his biblically rooted advice in a way that would not only be enjoyed but also be implemented and practiced daily. After tossing around a few ideas with author, Bible study teacher, and friend, Jeff Sievertson, Dr. Russ decided the best way to bring his professional advice to life was through this heartwarming tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638749721

Book preview

Sam and Janet Knight—Section 1

Shut up! Just shut up! he bellowed while the adrenaline and fury surged from his feet into his pounding chest.

"Just! Shut! Up! Sam screamed as he lunged in her direction with only a few feet between them. With his outstretched arm, he jabbed his finger toward Janet and snarled, One more word! Just one, and it will be your last!"

He glared at his wife for what seemed like an eternity. His arms now firm at his sides, fists like balls of iron, ready to plunge into her face, begging her to make a move.

She retreated one step back, only to be hindered by the cold hard wall behind her. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Her mind, however, flooded with images of her father beating her mother in a drunken rage.

Sam’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress this new found malevolent pleasure. He watched as she laboriously inhaled every breath. Clearly, he was enjoying this guilty pleasure for far too long. He knew what this was doing to her inside, but he didn’t care anymore. After releasing his grip on the air, he slightly nodded his head in sheer satisfaction.

This was the first time Janet ever demonstrated even a modicum of fear in his presence. She swore to herself long ago that she would not become a victim like her mother.

I could get used to this, Sam thought. He felt powerful and relished the enjoyment it brought. A more significant part of him knew, however, he could not extend the moment indefinitely; his weak-minded character wouldn’t allow it.

Other thoughts quickly edged into his cranium and stifled his feelings of victory. He desperately wanted to suppress the musings that intruded his mind. I can’t let her know she already has too much control over me.

If she knew, she would have more ammunition to launch a counterstrike against his weak defenses. He continued to give her an unusually long glare, venting his fears and frustrations through his clenched teeth and trembling lips.

After he drained the satisfaction out of the moment, he abruptly turned and exited the room. His footsteps pounded out his anger across the living room to then slam the front door—the very door where he not so long ago lovingly carried her across the threshold.

It was clear that his rage had not subsided though as she, and most assuredly the neighbors, could hear him belt out his pitiful defense from one end of the yard to the other.

"You don’t tell me what to do! I ran a successful company. I was their top salesman! I could do it again if I wanted to! I don’t need a college degree like you! Who gives a crap if you were on the dean’s list all four years! I don’t need you to keep bringing that up and throwing it in my face! It’s not my fault! They lied about me so they could kick me out. Screw your pompous education. I don’t need it!"

*****

Still pressed up against the wall, Janet finally looked up for the first time since the fear shot through her. She was now both physically and emotionally alone. Never before did Sam exhibit such rage in her presence. His typical strategy was to say a few terse words and then stomp off like a petulant child. But this…this was something different. Something too familiar.

Fortunately for her, the terror that quickly enveloped her faded away and, in its place, returned the courage she was determined to maintain. Unfortunately, her moxie was not without friends. Other feelings rode into town like unwelcome family members.

Sam continued to belt out his diatribe to every rock, shrub, and tree that would listen to him as he made his way around the house toward the backyard.

That barn, as Janet often referred to it, was his only place of solace since the rest of the house couldn’t be mucked up by his belongings. Sam’s hovel was an oasis she or any three-dimensional female rarely, if ever, dared to venture. Even when she did, it was always met with an unwelcome, "What?"

Even without knowing his exact whereabouts on their spacious property, Janet knew precisely where the enemy was marching. That dilapidated eyesore. Like a good soldier, however, she knew she couldn’t let him retreat without a fight. That would only give in to his newfound bravery. She had to regain the advantage and put the demon back in its hell.

As she flung open the patio door, she gazed across the overgrown lawn, another broken commitment, toward Sam’s pathetic kingdom, and roared, There you go again, running away from your problems like you always do! Never willing or capable of taking responsibility! Why don’t you grow up? Better yet, why don’t you do something simple, like…get a job!

As he maintained his steady trot, he gingerly raised his arm, clenched his fist, and then saluted her with one very erect finger.

*****

After he reached the shed, Sam turned the dial on the combination padlock and yanked it open. After he shoved the door aside, he attempted to flip on the light but missed the switch. Pausing for a moment to curse the inanimate object, he tried again to bring some light into the darkened interior. Another miss.

He wanted to rip the box from the wall—I can’t even turn on the friggin’ light!—but his third attempt spared him the trouble. Instinctively, he proceeded to slam shut the old door and engaged the deadbolt. As the iron banged hard against the latch, a deafening thunder crackled in the distance.

He looked around his domicile, which was just a short flight from her Majesty’s palace, and gave a loud grunt as he evacuated his lungs. Still raging from his brief encounter with Nurse Ratched, he screamed at the top of his lungs while he hunted through the cluttered mess, looking for something, anything to destroy with his bare hands. It was his wife’s mug, however, that he genuinely wanted to pulverize.

While he fantasized over his future conquest and crime, he scurried to the back of the barn to embrace his magical dragon. As he reached behind the numerous cobwebs and cluttered shelves, he grabbed hold of the escape hatch.

As he gripped the plastic Ziplock baggie, he smiled with anticipation. Relief was only a deep long puff away.

After he carefully rolled and lit an extra-long and wide blunt, he let it hang from his lips like a broken piece of straw with a burning ember at its tip. He held in the otherworldly mist for as long as he could, letting the THC give him some much-needed TLC.

As he exhaled the oppressive thoughts of his wife’s nagging along with his guilt of channeling her father, he slowly disappeared into the intoxicating fog.

2

Sam and Janet Knight—Section 2

Standing alone in the kitchen with her arms crossed and her foot tapping incessantly, Janet instinctively knew what he was doing. Who does he think he is? I’m the one keeping us afloat! I’m the one holding this house together. Ughh! He’s such an idiot! He doesn’t do anything right!

Not wanting to be heard if he abruptly returned, Janet let her mind pour out her vitriol. How much more of this can I take? Why does he always play the victim? Why can’t he just straighten up? It’s apparent that he loves getting high more than he loves me if he ever lov—

She quickly brushed away the thought, just as she brushed away a tear that wanted to be seen. If he truly loved me as he claims, he would give up the beer, the pot and…and…and those stupid pictures! Ahh! I’m starting to feel like I married my good-for-nothing father!

After yanking out a chair, she plopped herself down next to the kitchen table. Noticing the inconsistency, she unconsciously adjusted the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shaker to be sure it sat perfectly on the table.

The longer she contemplated her situation, the more infuriated she became. In a fit of rage, she slammed her fists down on her beautiful mahogany dining table, upsetting her previous work, and then let out a deep throated growl.

Uhhh! Three years. Three years of my life! That son of a—three years!

Allowing the world to catch just a glimpse of her pain, the tears began to fall while her spirit roared inside her mortal coil. How could he do this to me? How can he even look at those pictures? Whores! What makes them so unique?

She knew his extended stays in the barn, even the ones that went until dawn, were not spent pounding out furniture. Am I repulsive? Am I not real? Am…am I not good enough?

Visions of her past filled her mind.

*****

But, Daddy, I can’t reach that high to dust.

It’s not good enough! Do it again!

But, Daddy—

"Shut up!"

Smack!

Do not touch your daughter like that!

Do you want some more of this, woman? You better shut up if you know what’s good for ya’. Now go be a good wife and fix me a turkey potpie!

*****

Boom!

Janet once again slammed her fist down on the table, further disturbing her previous compulsive disorder. After taking a few moments to readjust her thoughts, along with the salt and pepper shakers, she finally managed to bring herself back to the moment.

She quickly surmised after that ill-conceived attempt of a man show that her husband would not be seen until the cock crowed. Even then, when he emerged from his cowardly den, who knew when he would once again stand in her presence or even more unlikely to lay by her side like he did in the beginning? For now, however, she was just numb, relieved even because in this brief respite, they weren’t fighting.

In the absence of war, however, her mind drifted into an area she never wanted to venture. It occurred to her that this love, which began with a great deal of hope, mostly on her part, was now moving steadfastly into a place she never wanted to go.

I’m such a fool. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I keep holding on to hope? Oh God. God! He’ll never change. I’m such an idiot!

Knowing too well the horrors of a broken family, she never in a thousand lifetimes wanted to find herself in that place. No matter how hard she tried to steer it away from the precipice, it only seemed to bring it closer.

She did everything she knew how to do—the very same things she tried to do to please her father. As she saw it, she carried the weight of the relationship for both of them. But now, he was just dragging her down.

I kept a good home…a clean house. I made dinners on time. I did the laundry the way he wanted it. I worked hard at work. I made extra money to pay for his stupid stuff. And now…nothing! I have nothing. Nothing worked! Nothing worked!

While trying her best to fight against the emotions, she soon heard a buzzing sound. It was her boss, Jerry.

As she gently set the phone down on the table and looked at his name on the screen, she thought to herself, Why couldn’t Sam be more like Jerry? He appreciates me. When I talk to him, he listens. He knows me like—

Crack!

The sound of approaching thunder broke her train of thought and brought her back to her unpleasant reality. Like a raging nor’easter crashing against an unsuspecting village, overwhelming grief pummeled her heart, drowning her in a sea of sorrow and anguish. Her tears that were once hidden from the world were now on full display for all of God’s creatures to see.

While looking down at that beautiful table, she began to move her hand over the deep grains and the dark textures. The memories of the two of them sitting down together and enjoying a meal were now replaced with nights of her making dinner for two but only needing enough for one. Images of laughter as they ate burnt pizza were pushed aside to make room for endless nights of screaming, followed by the deafening din of silence.

One by one, she allowed the good memories to fade like an early morning fog that dissipated in the rising sun. She didn’t want to lift her head. It was too heavy. She did, however, manage to turn her gaze toward the barn and arduously lift her eyes. As her tears began to fall once more, the rain outside began to drop as a soft pitter-patter upon the roof.

She searched her heart and mind, looking for even a smidgen of hope, but none could be found. She was paralyzed from the bottom of her feet to the top of her soul. All the signs were clear.

As the rain turned from a gentle trickle to a raging storm, it was as if even the heavens wept for her. The very thing which she feared the most had finally come upon her.

The undesirable had now become the inevitable.

3

Sam and Janet Knight—Section 3

Sam exhaled slowly and watched as the smoke rings floated to the ceiling, losing their circular aura as they rose. A sinister grin crawled across his face as he absently saluted his wife. This toke is for you, babe.

As he watched the smoke ascend, Sam fixed his eyes on the monument to his failure: Savvy Brothers Construction Company; Sales Manager: Sam Knight; Construction Manager: Harvey Stone. A broken friendship and an old sign were all that was left of his once thriving empire.

He and his old college buddy, Harvey, were the life of every party on campus. Only a few of the beauties were safe when they entered the room.

They were sooo easy, he recalled. A little wine, a little doob, and a tiny bit of charm were all we needed in our arsenal to score. God, I miss that.

Unfortunately, the party never lasts, and Harvey was off to work for his father’s construction company soon after he graduated. Sam, on the other hand, couldn’t get the ball across the goal line.

That stupid dean. All he ever cared about was his college’s image. He didn’t care about my problems. I bet his daddy never abandoned him. I even bet his momma gave him sweet little kisses every night and read him a story and didn’t try to control his life and take away his frigging support checks!

As the rain was tapping tenderly on the tin roof, Sam gently lifted the reefer to his lips once again and inhaled its relaxing murk. As he exhaled, he made sure to not let his eyes settle on the construction sign that his wife bitterly referred to as "another failure."

The fury that once engulfed him had finally deserted his body. The elixir left him emotionally anesthetized. Ahh…peace, he thought.

His present state of disconnection was clearly far better than his previous desire to put his wife six feet under. Even though she deserves it, he thought. I’m doing her a favor. That wench should be glad she’s still standing. She has no appreciation for what I do for her. None!

He continued to sit still, emptying his mind and tuning in to the rhythmic beat that gently thumped away in his chest with an ever-slowing tempo. As his mind became comfortably numb, he enjoyed the routine excursion he was embarking upon into that ethereal realm which was void of any stress.

No heavy demands placed on him. No one berating him incessantly. Not a soul in sight to make another pointless request. Ahh. Unconsciousness—the perfect state of mind.

He wanted a haven in which he could just merely exist. He instinctively knew that there was no such place but yearned for that mythical utopia. A solitary man, he mused.

Another toke and all malice and contempt were replaced with emptiness. He sat motionless as the chemicals were changed from a solid to a gas, leaving his fingers slightly charred in the process. In all that smoke and haze, his mind managed to return to a mild awareness of the physical world that plagued his daily existence.

Even in that virtual world, Sam’s thoughts drifted back to a better time. He recalled his first encounter with Janet. He was slightly annoyed as an involuntarily smile pulled at his lips.

A longing for the innocence of those days filled his mind. He didn’t want her to discover his private desire. He shook his head when he realized the days of old were now over, like the vanishing smoke rings that billowed from his trembling lips.

He concluded that nothing good lasts forever. Life gets in the way of everything, he cringed. Nothing stays the same. Nothing! Sam knew that his wife wanted nothing to do with his means of escape, at least not anymore.

He wasn’t sure if it was the weed thinking or a deeply held desire, but he was surprised by the next thought that wandered into his meandering consciousness.

I could probably give up the weed and…mmm…,some…uh…most of the alcohol. But only if she would show me some love again. Yeeeaaah…if only she would show me some love. Or…better yet…respect. Yeah, respect. It’s her fault I’m out here. If she would just let me do what I want, everything would be fine…great even!

As he allowed those thoughts to wander throughout the few remaining neurons he still possessed, his once impenetrable defenses against his guilt-ridden mind began to lose their stamina. In its place, an overwhelming sadness took up root in his heart, forcing his inebriated body to pour out an unexpected flood of tears.

What the heck? he thought as he brushed them away with the palm of his hand. Must be the freakin’ smoke.

He shook his head, trying to remove the frown that moved across his lips, but it held on like its life depended on it.

What the heck happened to us? he whispered. We used to laugh…party…make fun of people. Those were the best times. Why did she change? I didn’t change! This isn’t my fault. Why doesn’t she want to have fun anymore? Why did she have to ruin everything? This is her fault, not mine…not mine…not—

In his attempt to push down the truth that was rising up within him, Sam reached over for the plastic bag to retrieve some reinforcements. Screw it. We all make mistakes. Who cares anymore? I don’t.

As he pulled the joint to his lips once again, after brushing aside a tear, he flared up a match and thought to himself, Light up or leave me alone.

For several months now, both he and Janet could see the handwriting on the wall, but neither of them wanted to read it. It was there every day, reminding them of their irreconcilable differences that were once mere molehills but now…insurmountable.

The laughter they once shared was now replaced with short bursts of anger followed by long nights of silence. She morphed into someone he could no longer recognize while he remained exactly the same.

As the inescapable conclusion came rushing forward, he looked down at the dingy floor to bring himself back to the present. He then slowly shifted himself in his chair to look back toward the house. As he turned, he could hear the rain change from a mild drizzle to a torrential flood.

Through the barn’s dirt-covered window, he could see beyond the steady rain a stream of golden light emanating from the kitchen window. On the other side of that glass sat a person who once brought him great joy, but now only grief and despair.

As he gazed in her direction, he realized that the only thing they shared was the very thing that neither of them wanted but couldn’t seem to avoid: contempt.

Marriage was the one thing he thought he could do better than his parents. After living with a controlling mother and an absentee father, he believed he knew how to circumvent their mistakes.

But like everything else in his wretched life, he felt he was just a pawn in someone else’s game. The parents ate sour grapes, yet he was made to taste the bitterness. Therefore, the signs were clear; even the heavens knew their fate.

The marriage…was over.

4

Tom and Ali Katz—Section 1

Are you sure you’re okay?

Yes, Mom! Gosh! I already told you. Don’t worry. He made me a promise—

But—

I know he said that before, but—

I know that, honey, but he—

Oh, Mom, won’t you let me finish?

All right, all right! I’m sorry. Please…go on, she said, knowing the exact words that were to follow.

"But… I believe him this time."

As Ali bit her bottom lip and shook her head, the awkward pause was enough to let her daughter know that she wasn’t buying it. Well, I’m here for you, Kitlyn. No matter what time it is, you and my granddaughter are always welcome in my home. How is she, by the way?

She’s fine, Mother.

Well, you know, if—

"For crying out loud, can you not stop!"

I just want to make sure—

Make sure of what? Kitlyn barked.

I just hope he has enough wherewithal to not h—to not touch you in front of my granddaughter.

How many times do I have to tell you?

Immediately, another thought flew into Ali’s worried mind. Oh my God. He doesn’t hit her, does he?

That’s it, I’m done. Gregg would never do that to her. He loves Christie too much.

He said that he loved you too, and look what he did— Ali retorted.

Stop it!

I’m just scared for you, Kitlyn! I’m scared for Christie too! Ali said as she became more forceful with her words, knowing, however, that if she pushed too hard, her daughter would just hang up on her like always.

She paused for several more moments, hoping for a response, desperately wanting her daughter to finally see it her way. However, the only thing she heard from the other end was silence.

Changing her approach, Ali, in a softer tone, continued, Kitlyn, please…please listen to me. I’m…uh… I’m asking you. Just please consider this. Why don’t you just come home?

Mom—

We can have dinner together like we used to. I can get the board games out again, or we can play Canasta—

Mooooom!

I can take care of you. I can take care of Christie. Why don’t…why don’t you just come home and then that…that man won’t touch you ever again?

"Gregg! His name is Gregg, Mom."

I know what his name is dear.

Mom…uh… I’m done. Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself. I… I have to go.

Click.

With that, the phone went dead, leaving Ali to speak into an empty line. I love you. Why can’t you seeee that? I wish you would let me take care of you!

She continued to hold the phone to her ear for a few seconds. After letting out a long huff, she reset the receiver and dialed her son’s number for the third time that day.

Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ri—

What is it this time, Mom? Felix snapped.

Well, hello to you too, son. Thank you for taking my call.

Yeah.

I really didn’t want anything. I just had a moment and—

You’re lonely again, right?

Now why do you keep saying that?

You just called me two times before with nothing to talk about.

Maybe I have something to say this time.

I’m waiting.

Speaking under her breath, she said, You’re just like your sister.

What? I didn’t hear that.

Nothing…nothing. I’m just concerned about your father.

What about him?

You know how much your father works. I just want to talk to someone throughout the day. Is it so wrong if I call my children every once in a while and—

Every once in a while would be fine, but this is the third time today. You do remember I work too, right?

Yes, but your father has to work late tonight. Something about two trucks being late and having to wait to unload them. I don’t understand all of that. It just seems that he’d rather be at work than with me.

Felix rolled his eyes and wanted to say, I wonder why but swallowed his tongue. Come on, Mom, you know how much work means to Dad. He’s just as dedicated to his job as he was when he was in the Marines. He always said that his first job was to put food on the table, keep a roof over our heads, and keep us safe. That’s what he’s doing.

I know, Ali reluctantly agreed, but he never spends time with me. When he gets home, he has a beer and watches that stupid TV. I swear if he turns on any more shows about that godforsaken war, I’ll scream! He could star in one of those shows, you know?

With a gentle smile that his mother could hear in his voice, he asked, So, what do you want, Mom?

I think you know, she said as she smiled back.

Mom, you just saw the kids three days ago. Are you getting senile or something?

For one, don’t talk to me that way, young man. I am your mother, and you owe me respect. I gave up the best part of my life to raise you and your sister. Secondly, I’m their grandmother, and grandchildren need their grandparents.

Okay, Mom, I know, I know, you’ve made that point very clear. You can see the kids on the weekend sometime, okay? Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you in a few days to arrange things.

Click.

Felix? Felix? Well… Ali hung up the phone but continued with her thoughts as she got up and moved toward the kitchen.

Why do they treat me like this? Don’t they know how it messes with my anxiety when they just talk to me that way? Why can’t they have a proper conversation on the phone with me? They keep hanging up before I can even say I love you.

As she opened the freezer door to grab the ice cream, she pressed on her chest, trying to calm her nerves. Walking past the cabinet with the bowls, she opened the utensil drawer to grab a spoon—a huge spoon.

Kicking a chair back from the table, she set down the tub of ice cream, opened the lid, and pushed her shovel into the cold and creamy antidepressant. Ice cream always calms my nerves. Much better than Xanax.

*****

A few miles away in a large warehouse, Tom Katz sat atop his forklift. There was no doubt as to whom the massive piece of equipment belonged. On every side were Marine and military stickers. It was also clean as a whistle, unlike the other lifts in the warehouse.

Tom made sure every morning that his lift was fit and proper. It wasn’t a requirement from upper management to keep it in such pristine condition. It was his own sanity that demanded it.

With exact precision, Tom easily maneuvered one crate after the other from the shipping room to the receiving room. He made sure that every box and container was appropriately stacked. Every day, without fail, he did his job flawlessly. Today, however, was not one of those days.

As he came around the corner, being diligent to watch the cross traffic, a rookie driver flew by, causing him to swerve, immediately upsetting his load.

Boom!

As the crates shifted and hit the floor, Tom’s mind slipped into a parallel universe. The sound reverberated against the walls and throughout the dock. To Tom, it sounded like enemy gunfire.

He gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could and just looked straight ahead. He couldn’t move. In the distance, he could hear others running toward him, calling out his name.

Master Sergeant, Master Sergeant! What are your orders, sir? The enemy is approaching from the south. We need to clear this area! Intel says they have chemical weapons! We have to move out!

Tom’s coworkers tried to get his attention, but nothing seemed to break his trance. Still caught in the flashback, he heard one authoritative voice above the others. It was his foreman, Darrell.

Katz, what happened? Get out of that lift and help these men clean up this mess!

Even though he heard him, he still couldn’t snap back to the present. What happened next was a lesson that neither Darrell nor Tom would ever forget.

As Tom was trying to get his troops to safety, an enemy combatant came up from behind and grabbed him by his arm. Without hesitation, the salty marine, in one swift move, incapacitated the insurgent and put him up against a wall with his fingers ready to rip his throat out. As Tom continued to restrain the combatant, the Middle Eastern-looking man shifted between the face of his boss and that of the enemy.

As Darrell was turning a mild shade of blue and purple, the other employees were desperately trying to loosen Tom’s grip with very little success. As Tom was fading between the present and the past, their screams only exacerbated the situation, causing him to fight even harder for his life.

One of the employees was able to turn Tom’s head until he was looking directly at him. He didn’t recognize the face, but he could tell the man was calling him by his name.

"Tom! Tom! Listen to me!"

As the man continued to shout his name, the rocket fire, explosions, and gunshots faded quickly into the distance. He could now finally make out the man that was holding his attention. It was his good friend, Fitz.

Tom, Tom, come on, man, calm down! It’s me. Tom, can you hear me? Tom, let go of Darrell, man, let him go!

Tom blinked a few times and then looked around to what was in his hands. When he realized the horror of his mistake, he quickly released his grip. Not giving him any opportunity to slip away again in his mind, Fitz gently put his arm around Tom’s shoulder and lifted him up and out of the way.

The other men who were standing around parted to let them pass. Clearly, Tom was beside himself. Oh my God, what have I done? he thought.

Not wanting to speak, but he knew he needed to know, he looked at Fitz and whispered, What happened?

Not sure. There was a commotion, and when I showed up, you were choking Darrell.

From behind them, Darrell was able to cough out a few words, "Katz…you… SOB!

Boss… I’m sorry about—

Get…out of here.

But, boss, I’m…please… I just need—

"Now, Katz! Go!"

*****

After Tom made it to his truck, a large extended cab dually, he climbed up into the one place that he felt safe from the hazards that continually surrounded his mind.

Fitz knew that Tom was a highly decorated Iraq War veteran. He concluded that what just happened was more than likely connected to what he experienced over there. Even though he survived the ravages of war, this battle that Tom just started would more than likely not go his way.

Regardless of his work record and the excellent relationship he typically shared with his boss, Fitz was concerned for Tom’s future at the company. He believed that Darrell had to get rid of him. If Tom wasn’t gone immediately, Darrell would look weak in the eyes of the others and with upper management.

As soon as Tom was secure in his fortress, Fitz stepped up to the window and asked, You okay?

Still maintaining his composure as best he could, Tom took a deep breath, started the engine, and sat for a second before answering. Yeah, I’m fine.

So what happened in there?

I don’t know, he said while still looking straight.

Do you remember anything?

Tom turned his head slowly and looked into his friend’s eyes. With an empty gaze and an expressionless face, Tom replied, He shouldn’t have touched me.

As Tom turned away and looked forward once more, Fitz moved closer and said, Tom, I’m worried about you, man. You could have killed Darrell.

He’s fine.

Yeah… I know…but—

"He should not have touched me," he said coldly.

Yeah…but— Fitz said while he paused to do his best to get through to his friend. Look, as your friend, not as your coworker, I’m begging you to get some help with this.

I’ll be fine. I just need to take a drive.

Tom…listen to me on this. You really need help.

With controlled anger, Tom whispered, Get off my truck.

Tom, wait… I’m only trying—

As Tom jammed it into gear and took off, Fitz quickly jumped back and out of the way.

After he reached the edge of the parking lot, Tom looked through teary eyes to see his good friend in the rearview mirror just holding up his hands in bewilderment.

He didn’t want to leave in that way, but he had no choice. He had to run. For now, he was safe. No one could see him behind the blacked-out windows of the truck.

As he drove, he screamed and pounded the steering wheel until his hand was slightly bruised. Don’t you dare get back on the block, Katz! You ain’t a nasty civilian! Embrace the suck!

As he reached the edge of town, rather than turning toward home, he pointed his truck onto the highway like he had done so many times before. He had to release the rage and fear that billowed within him before he could go home to his wife.

As much as she tried, Ali was just never going to be able to understand his pain. Staying away was the only way he knew how to keep her safe.

5

Tom and Ali Katz—Section 2

Kitlyn! Ali blurted out as she was awakened off the couch by a ringing phone. Hello, she said as she eagerly picked up the receiver.

Hi, uh, Ali, is Tom there?

No, he’s at work. Who’s this? Ali asked as she wiped away the sleep from her eyes.

Ali, it’s me, Fitz.

Oh…hi, Fitz, Ali replied as she looked around the house to see if there was any sign of Tom. Aren’t you at work with Tom?

No… I’m at work, he said, realizing that Ali was not aware of what took place.

Well, Tom isn’t here. He’s supposed to be there. He said he was working late.

Oh…uh…okay…uh—

What’s going on, Fitz? Is something wrong? You need to tell me if something is wrong, Ali demanded as she clutched her chest.

Yeah, we did have to work late, Fitz paused, not knowing what to say. Uh, there was a minor incident earlier tonight, and Tom was told to just go home. I thought he’d be there by now.

Oh God, what happened? What did he do this time? When did he leave? she blurted out in a panic.

"It’s okay, Ali, calm down. It was about an hour ago. He probably just went for a drive. You know how