The year is 2011. The Iraq war had just ended, and veteran Jack Worth was headed home. The airport presence held grief of those who were not returning home and was seemingly falling apart as if the emotions were tearing it down physically. People didn’t pay certain attention to him, not an unusual sight for there to be a returning vet. But, every stare he did receive, was unwanted. When in school he always loved the attention of being a football star, the attention of being the school hero for scoring the winning touchdown. But now, now it was different. The attention made Jack squirm uncomfortably, made him feel restless. Like he was in a display case where everyone passing could stop and tap the glass. Now Jack was headed home, to where the display case was surely smaller, and the hands would never stop tapping.

Home. Lewisville, Texas. It was all the same as he remembered. The sweltering heat, filled with the type of humidity that makes your skin stick to everything and make your hair feel as though it’s been electrocuted. It’s all the same. The people, the structures, the spirit. It was all the same, yes, but to Jack it felt like everything was different. Everything seemed like it could go wrong, so he always had eyes on possible threats, and closest exit. Everyone was excited to see him, of course. Returning hero from the Iraq War. But Jack, Jack saw everything differently. But none of us saw him differently. He was the same old Jack. The football star, the hero.

Jack said his hellos to the people, and reunited with his family. His mother opened the door silently. He looked at her and took note of the smile lines that grew dark on her petite face, and the crinkles around her face; her eyes. They were filled with longing; the longing a mother gets when her baby boy goes to war. She pulled his tall stature down into a crushing hug, and Jack clung to her, glad to be home, pretending not to feel his shirt grow wet with tears. His father though, well his father didn’t cry. He limped out with an old wood cane, a new addition, his mouth was in a tight frown looking his son up and down. He gave him a salute followed by a firm handshake. The thing about Jack’s father is that he was a prideful bastard, and he sure as hell passed that onto Jack. His father was very, very old fashioned. Men getting help is frowned upon. His father told both Jack and his best friend Rudy when they were little, “Men don’t need help. We don’t need it. Men, we keep it to ourselves, fix it ourselves, and make our fathers proud.” Rudy wasn’t really listening, but Jack, that was drilled into Jack’s brain for life.

It was the fourth of July. In the small town of Lewisville, they have a whole day of festivities that go up and down main street. There were food stands of homemade goodies, the harvest of some of the farmers’ bounty, even some slabs of meat on ice from the cattle farmers of the town. Children were frolicking and playing, their innocence refreshing. But always, always, there were fireworks. Every year at the end of the night there would be fireworks. So loud it would sound like gunfire. Well now Jack was here. And it was even better. Lewisville had it’s star back, and also gained a hero.

The festivities were slowing down. People were tired. Looking to the sky one could see dusk begin to set in. Time for fireworks. The whole town was gathered around town square. An arrangement of chairs all pointed towards the North of town where the long, empty fields lay. The technicians were out there getting ready to show off their work. It was dark enough that the bright lights of the fireworks would shine in the sky. The children, barely holding still for longer than five minutes, were seated in front of their parents on wool blankets; all of Lewisville’s citizens spread out, waiting for the spectacular show. Jack, Jack’s parents, and Rudy were all seated together. Not too far back, not too close, but seated with the perfect view of the display of beautiful lights. As soon as it started, looking at Jack, you could see his eyes glaze over; like he wasn’t even here. The loud booms and cracks of the fireworks echoed all throughout the town. Rudy turned to him seeing the grip on his chair tighten, his knuckles turning white. His arms were shaking as if he was getting ready for a battle. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulder and ran him out of there as fast as I could. Kneeling in front of him Rudy looked in his eyes, calling to him, wishing him to come back to reality. Back to him. It took almost an hour for him to look Rudy in the eye with focus.

        “Rudy?” He questioned looking at his best friend.
        “Where’d ya go buddy?” was all Rudy could muster to say to him. He started sobbing.
        “I….I was there again. There were bombs going off everywhere, children crying for their mothers. Gunshots surrounded me and my team. I can’t get it outta my head!” He shouted clutching his head like he could force the memories out by hand.
Rudy pulled his hands away and looked at him. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get you help. Even heroes need help Jack. Your father was wrong - you’re the strongest person I know. After all you went through you need help, and it’s okay.” Rudy said and he nodded. The two brothers clung to each other. Jack is Rudy’s best friend, his brother. He needs him. In that moment Rudy knew that things will change. But that’s okay, because, Jack needed and deserved this help. Because this is the aftermath of a hero.