Chapter 40 - The Husband I Buried

— PART TWO —

Then

Luis

A week after I got back from the army, there was a knock on my door.

I hadn’t shaved since I landed. My apartment smelled like sweat, beer, and whatever was growing in my fridge. I figured whoever it was would take one look and leave.

They didn’t. He didn’t.

He introduced himself as Silas.

He stood there smiling, like I wasn’t obviously half drunk. Said he was from some Veterans’ Outreach program. His tone was careful, like he wasn’t sure how I’d react to being told I needed help.

He said he wanted to ‘help me find my footing.’

‘My footing’s fine,’ I retorted. He glanced at the beer bottles on the counter and smiled again. ‘We can help with the nights,’ he said.

That one hurt. The nights were the problem. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Not since I’d walked away and left Thomas to die.

So, I let him drive me.

I was reckless, with nothing to lose.

The place wasn’t what I expected. From outside, it looked like a building with a huge garden. Inside it was renovated. Everything looked brand new, like a wellness getaway for rich people. There were natural elements around the facility, lots of plants; there was marble and wood and a huge fountain bubbling in the background. It smelled of fresh coffee beans, essential oils and fresh air.

Clean.

The receptionist smiled. ‘Mr. Tyndale? They’re expecting you.’

Behind her head was a logo, etched in black marble. The Coterie Institute, the name cleverly threaded into the ‘O’, which was two giant snakes, eating each other’s tails.

I frowned.

I didn’t remember telling the woman my name, but she knew me as soon as I walked in. I guess she came across it when she was organizing Dr. Avery’s calendar.

*

The first session started like I imagined therapy would.

Dr. Avery sat across from me looking almost too composed for a therapist. Immaculately calm, like nothing ever rattled him. He was dressed in soft gray. No sharp edges. He had the voice for it too. Low and even. Reassuring in a way that made you want to keep talking.

He asked all the right questions and listened in that deliberate way therapists do when they’re building trust.

Somehow, we ended up talking about Thomas. About how I’d left him behind. How I’d made a decision that would haunt me for years to come.

Dr. Avery didn’t interrupt. He listened without judgment. When he finally spoke, his voice carried sympathy.

‘You did what you had to do.’

There was a weight behind his words. Like he not only knew what it was like to make difficult decisions, but what it was like to live with those decisions long after you’d made them.

‘Beating yourself up over it won’t change what happened,’ he continued calmly.

But it wasn’t that simple.

‘You can’t just turn off the pain,’ I said.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. ‘What if you could?’ he asked.

That got my attention.

If there was a way to quiet my mind, if I could get one full night of sleep without replaying what happened, I’d be willing to try it.

‘Pain comes from resistance,’ he said. ‘From clinging to who we were, or pretending to be who we think we should be. Real peace comes when we integrate both sides of ourselves. The shadow, and the version we present to the world.’

I didn’t know what the hell that meant, but he smiled like it was something profound I would come to understand.

‘It might be beneficial for you to join one of our group sessions,’ he said. ‘You’ll see how this work has helped others.’ He smiled. If he could smell the alcohol on me, he didn’t say it.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Sure.’

I didn’t believe it would help, but my head was spinning, and I was trying not to throw up.

In that moment, it didn’t feel like I had many other options.

Silas led me to a room, and the smell of clean linen bedsheets is the last thing I remember before I gratefully passed out.

The next morning I woke to find myself in a clean white room, sunlight pouring in through the window. There was a knock on the door: it was Dr. Avery coming to check on me. He had brought me food and some strong coffee for the hangover, to hide the real reason for his visit: to see if I remembered our discussion, and if I knew where I was.

This place wasn’t like the shitty apartment I was about to lose if I didn’t pay the rent. It was clean and comfortable in a calm, minimalistic way. The built-in cupboards and benches were all natural wood. The windows let in natural light.

I was happy enough to rest and recover, which Silas encouraged when he stopped by to see how things had gone with Dr. Avery. By then, I was starting to suspect this wasn’t just a day spa.

‘What is this place?’ I asked, wondering what they were going to ask of me.

‘It’s a wellness center,’ he said. ‘People come here to relax and get back on track.’

A part of me wondered if it was really a fancy rehab center, but no one seemed to be monitoring what I drank, and food was provided three times a day.

The group session came a few days later.

They called the space a Reflection Room. There were about a dozen of us, seated in a loose circle under low amber lighting. Mostly veterans. Men who looked about the same as I felt. Everyone spoke about their experiences after they returned from service.

I passed on my turn. I didn’t want to share what I’d done. It was an unspoken rule, and I had broken it. You don’t leave your squadmates behind, unless you absolutely have to.

Unless you can’t move, or they’re already gone.

I snapped back as someone started talking about repurposing pain.

About shadow work.

About transformation.

It sounded like a bunch of crap to me. Therapy buzzwords to give people false hope.

At first, I was skeptical. Then, uncomfortable.

The man leading the group with Dr. Avery looked right at me. He spoke with a voice that could’ve sold fresh air when he said, ‘There’s no healing without destruction,’ as if he were reciting a fact. ‘The self must die to be reborn.’

Something about him unsettled me. It didn’t feel like I was in a group therapy session anymore. This was something else.

I stood before the session was over and left the room, half expecting to be stopped by someone. But no one did.

I didn’t say goodbye to Dr. Avery, or Silas. I wasn’t planning on returning.

And yet, as I stepped outside into the cool night air, one thought wouldn’t leave.

Transformation. They weren’t trying to heal us. They were trying to remake us.

What if by walking out of there, I’d just missed my chance at real peace? At finally forgiving myself for leaving Thomas behind to die?