The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (6 page)

In that moment, another thought came flooding to mind, washing over him and bringing brilliantly raw clarity.   What about his own wife?  How must she have felt when the news had come back to her many times before about his injuries down through the years?  Who had comforted her?  At times, he was certain that no one was there with her.  No one gave her reassurance or even an explanation.  But still, in her unwavering strength, she had prevailed…endured for their family, for him.  

Damn
, he owed Diane his life for all she had gone through.  It was a pity that he had to realize it through the pain of his own child.  He only wished that it didn’t have to be Courtney going through this. 

As they walked, Courtney looked up at him, her red hazel eyes nearly stopping his heart as she tried to smile. “Thank you for coming, Daddy,” she whispered.  She and her father had experienced some dark moments in their life.  He wasn’t always in approval of her choices and she wasn’t always in approval of his.  Yet, at that moment, all of the bumpy spots in their relationship were made smooth.  He was there for her when she needed him…there to comfort her, to hold her up, to walk beside her.  Even in her grief, she had to recognize that.

“There is no other place in the world that I’m supposed to be right now,” he said with his arm wrapped around her.  His heart swelled and he had to fight his own tears back.  “I never wished for this life for you, mostly because I know how hard it can be.  But you picked a good man and sometimes you just have to play with the cards you’re dealt.  Your mother and I will be right here for whatever you need, whenever you need it.  But trust me, you will get through this.” 

She nodded at him.  “I know,” she said honestly.  “I love you.  I know I don’t say it all the time, but I do.  And…” she swallowed salty tears. “And I would never trade you, never in a million years.”

“I love you too.”  He smiled and kissed her sand covered hand.  “Let’s get you home.

Chapter 5

“I have not yet begun to fight!”

-John Paul Jones

Within 44 hours after being injured, Brett was asleep in the safe, clean, cool confines of Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.  He had been treated in theatre and transported immediately to Joint Base Andrews by the Medical Evacuation and Critical Air Transport Team.  It had been without a doubt, a painful journey, but one that reassured him that there was no place like home.  He knew that more than ever when as he arrived on campus and passed an American flag waving high above them, a rush of tears burned his eyes and cascaded like a waterfall down his bruised face. 

He remembered feeling embarrassed about his tears, when everyone around him kept calling him a hero and a warrior. 
If they look closer
, he thought quietly to himself,
they’d see that I’m not
.  But before he could get the thought processed in his head, he was suddenly reassured by one of the team members who slipped her hand into his and smiled at him.  “Sometimes I cry when I pass it too.  It’s a beautiful sight to behold,” she said, turning from his misty blue eyes to look out of the window.  Still, she had not let go of his hand and he had not let go of hers.  It had not been some ridiculous attempt at flirting; it had been one military personnel giving another comfort when they needed it the most, and he appreciated that.  

When he had gotten to Bethesda, he had requested a phone several times, but his vitals were not doing well; the drugs had him loopy and the pain was excruciating.  Brett had been injured before.  A scrape here, a break there.  But this time had been different.  He had nearly lost Rusty.  Joe had nearly given up his entire family to save him from incoming fire.  And well, he had been popped by an insurgent with an AK-47 in his dominant leg.  What good was a Force Recon Marine without a leg? 

While they admitted him to the hospital, counseled him and saw after him, he kept wondering when someone was going to tell him that he was going to lose his valued limb, but no one was saying anything to him, or at least, he didn’t quite hear them.  They had him on so many drugs, he could barely focus.  And if he focused too long, he seemed to pass out completely. 

However, in his sleep, he had never truly left Afghanistan.  In the dark hospital room, only illuminated by monitors and equipment, blinking and buzzing, he sweated through his gown, moaned in his sleep and relived the pain of being shot.

Stuck in a state of panic, Brett gripped the covers and screamed out, veins protruding in his neck, bloodshot eyes popping open.  “INCOMING!” he yelled, voice echoing down the hall. 

His own screams jolted him awake.  Frantically, he looked around for his men, but no one was there.

When he realized where he was – not in a war zone but safe in a hospital bed - he rested his head back on the sweat soaked pillow and felt a sharp pain shoot through his leg up to his waist.  At the same time that he tried to adjust, another pain shot through his chest from his dislocated arm.  The frustration of all of it was too much.  Croaking out a curse, he began to cry. 

“Fuck you,” he sobbed.  “Fuck
all
of you,” he said, thinking of Nabi’s dead son.  

The door to the hospital room flew open and a small, heavyset nurse in pink scrubs, and graying blonde bob flipped on the lights.  With a smile, she walked up to his bedside, pulled out her stethoscope and began to check his vitals.

“How are you doing, Staff Sergeant. Black?” she asked in a Bostonian accent.  She looked him dead in the eyes as if to say,
I’m talking to you.

Brett tried to speak but his throat was sore from the tubes they had used earlier.  “I’m fine,” he lied. “It was just a nightmare.”
Another nightmare.
  He tried quickly to wipe his face of the tears. He was tired of crying in front of these people.  Looking over to the clock on the table, he licked his cracked lips.  “I need to call my wife,” he said as another pain hit him. He winced in pain. 

“Alright, let’s get you some pain meds, first.” She picked up his chart and flipped through the pages.  “Looks like you’re due some pain management in less than 15 minutes, so I’m going to give it to you early.”

He tried to catch his breath.  “If I take the meds, it makes it hard for me to control what I say,” Brett explained as he balled up his fists.  “I have a low tolerance for drugs. I have since I was a kid.”  He thought back to when he had busted his knee in high school football and had been placed on pain meds.  It had been a nightmare when he accidentally cursed at his mother.  He can still remember her tears…right before she slapped him. 

The nurse chuckled.  “Which is why you want to talk to your wife first…” she assumed as she put the chart down.  “Don’t want to say the wrong thing?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Brett wiped his eyes again.  The tears wouldn’t stop despite the fact that he now knew where he was. “I just think if I hear her voice, I’ll feel better.  Maybe I’ll be able to get some rest.”

There were no other words that needed to be exchanged as far as the nurse was concerned.  Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she passed it to him.  “The phones shut off here at a certain time.  You can use mine, if you make it quick.  I have a few errands to run.  I’ll just leave you to it, and I’ll come back when I’m done.” 

Brett was grateful. “Thank you…very much.”  He struggled to pull himself up in the bed.  There had to be a comfortable place in this bed where he could get some relief. 

“I’ve got two boys over there in Afghanistan,” she winked.  “We’re all family as far as I’m concerned.”  Leaving him alone in the room, she closed the door quietly.  

As soon as the phone rang, Courtney answered. 

“Hello,” she said voice groggy. Looking at the alarm clock on the night stand, she raised up in the bed. 

Brett paused.  She sounded beautiful, even at two in the morning.  Salty tears began to form again.  “It’s me, baby,” he said, mouth quivering. 

Courtney’s voice sounded strained.  “Brett,” she paused.  “Is that you?”  He sounded so funny over the phone. 

He smiled despite the pain.  Releasing a sigh, he wiped his head. “It’s me.  Did I wake you?”

“No,” Courtney lied. She jumped up in the bed and pushed the covers off her body. Her heart began to flutter.  

“I just wanted to hear your voice.  I thought maybe it’d help me sleep.”

Diane, Courtney’s mother, was lying beside her.  They had fallen asleep together with the kids between them.  She rose up on one elbow and smiled at her daughter, knowing how good that first call always was. 

“I’m here,” Courtney said, standing up carefully to keep from stirring the babies.  She wiped tears. 

“Where?” Brett asked. 

“I’m at Walter Reed.  Well, we’re at Fisher House.  They were nice enough to put us up for a few days to come and see you.  We were going to surprise you in the morning,” Courtney said, walking over to the window. She peeked out the blinds at the streetlights and the hospital in the distance. Although he was closer than he had been over the last few months, he still seemed so far away over there in that tall building.  

“You’re in Bethesda?” Brett asked, more alert.

“Yep.  Mom, Dad the babies and me.  Not far from you at all,” she said in a soothing voice. Her smile lit up the conversation.  “Does that help you sleep?”

Brett chuckled for the first time since he had been injured.  “No,” he said, looking down at his leg.  “It makes me wish you could come over.”

Courtney’s brain began to spin. 
Could she get over there tonight?
  If she could find a way, there was no way that she wouldn’t.  “I think visiting hours are over.”

Brett thought of his nurse and her son.  Surely, she’d help him out.  “I think I can get you in.  Turns out, I’ve got some family here.”

“Family?” Courtney said confused.

“Just a figure of speech.  I’ll call you back in a few minutes with directions.  Just get dressed.”  He paused for a moment.  He sounded like he was giving orders to one of his subordinates, not his wife.  “I mean, if you’d like to come over…”

Courtney cut him off.  “Call me back in five,” she said, hanging up the phone.

Turning back to her mother, she smiled. “He wants to see me
right now
,” she whispered, jumping up and down.  “What am I going to wear?  He hasn’t seen me in months.”  Suddenly, she was frantic.  “I don’t want to look fat.”

“You don’t look fat.”  Diane pulled herself out of the bed and slugged over to her Louis-Vuitton over-night bag.  “Go take a shower quickly.  I’ll help you get ready.  Do you have a sun dress or something to slip on?”

Courtney shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure that I do, but do you think a dress is appropriate for the middle of the night?”

Diane gave a sinister smile to her daughter.  “You haven’t seen your husband in eight months.  You’re going to see him at two in the morning.  Do you really want to have on something as constricting as pants that makes it difficult to pull up or down when the nurse isn’t looking?”

Courtney’s mouth fell open. “Mom, I doubt he’ll want to make out.  He was just shot, remember.”  She blushed as she opened her dress bag, but inside, she knew that her mother was right. 

“You could show up in a pair pajama pants with your hair on fire, and he’d still want to see you.  I’ve been married to your father for a
long time
.  And he’s been injured quite a few times over the years.  Let me tell you, men never change.  If there is an opportunity, they’ll find it.  You just need to be ready.”  She pulled a box perfume out of her bag and tossed it across the room to her.  “I was saving that for a date with your father while we were here, but you should use it tonight, and if he really likes it, I’ll give it to you.  And every time he smells it, he’ll think of tonight.” 

Courtney caught the box and gaffed.  “Mom, this is Chanel No. 5.  This is really expensive…like $2,000 a bottle.”

Diane winked.  “Well, dear, when you’re my age, you only wear the best.  Now, put a little behind the ears, wrists and knees…or the most likely places he’ll put his nose.”

Courtney shook her head.  “You and dad are some real freaks, aren’t you?”

“A woman should never tell,” her mother said, patting the rollers in her hair. 

“Will you be fine with the babies?”  Courtney asked looking over at the children curled up quietly in the bed sleeping peacefully.

“I’ll be just fine.  Now hurry, girl. Your husband is waiting,” Diane said, getting back in the bed, “and I’m exhausted.”

***

Dressed in a blood red, ankle-length t-shirt dress that showed off her voluptuous shape and engorged breasts, paired with yellow sandals and yellow earrings to mirror the colors of the Marine Corps, Courtney quietly followed Brett’s nurse up a back staircase to the floor where Brett was being treated.   

“Are you going to stay all night?” the nurse asked, looking back at Courtney as she opened the door for her to the unit. Cool air hit both of their faces from the climate-controlled building, which was a drastic change from the heat outside.  The nurse hated to stare, but Mrs. Black was very pretty, not to mention in that killer dress, she stuck out like a sore thumb. It’s no wonder the man couldn’t sleep.  She wouldn’t have minded her son bringing home a pretty girl like that – polished, pretty, presentable even in the middle of the night. 

“Can I stay all night?” Courtney asked, pulling her small Coach purse up on her shoulder.

“You’re his wife.  Sure, you can. I’m his nurse for tonight. I’ll come by and check on him as needed, but if the doctor should make his rounds, just tell him that you’ve already checked in.  Trust me.  He won’t make a fuss.  It happens all the time.”  She stopped abruptly at door 415, turned and smiled.  “He’s right inside waiting for you.”  The nurse wouldn’t get into all the prep work he had put her through, including helping him clean his undercarriage, teeth and ears, like he was preparing for an inspection. 

Courtney looked at the door and then back at the nurse. She shrugged. “I’m nervous.”

“So is he,” the nurse reassured, grabbing Courtney’s hand. “You both will be fine.” 

Courtney nodded and then reached out and hugged her.  She knew it wasn’t exactly PC, but neither was sneaking in a woman in the middle of the night into a secure Naval facility.  “I can’t thank you enough.  I know that you didn’t have to do this. You don’t even know us.”

The nurse patted Courtney’s back.  “Just take care of him.”  Grabbing the door handle, she looked around.  “Hurry inside before someone sees you.”

The room was dark when Courtney stepped inside with only the lights from above Brett’s bed to illuminate it.  Closing the door behind her, she cleared her throat.  “Brett, are you in here, baby?”  Her voice carried in the small room.  She hoped that she wasn’t waking anyone up. 
Did he have a roommate?
 
Had he fallen back to sleep?

“Yeah,” he said quickly, pulling his gown down over his bruised knees.  “I’m here,” he answered.

She poked her head around the corner hesitantly and gazed intently across the room at the man she called her husband.  So close, yet so unrecognizable.  He left a whole man; he returned something else – not necessarily something less, but definitely something different.