Ask, Tell, page 29
proud was to be in the military. It’s not true. I’ve been proud
of you your whole life.”
I swallow gummy saliva. “It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the
work.” It’s the truth, I do love the work. I just don’t love
being in the army.
He reaches up to wipe tears from my cheeks. “I
understand, honey. I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
He gives me a sly smile. “And just think, you’re even going
to get a medal.”
“I think I’d prefer something less painful than a Purple
Heart.”
When they leave for the night, I lie in bed and think. How I
would cope with parents who weren’t so supportive? My
mother lives for her family and she will support me as she
has done my entire life. Despite my father’s misgivings
about what’s happened, he loves me and wants me to be
happy.
It’s nearly ten and I’m in a groggy, semi-asleep limbo
when the phone rings. I roll over slowly and pick it up.
“Mmm ’lo?”
“Sabine?”
I would know this voice anywhere. I exhale. “Vic.”
She sounds on the verge of tears. “I heard what
happened. Jana called me. Are you okay? Jesus, I can’t
even…” She bursts into full-blown crying. “Sabs, I’m really
sorry. About everything.”
I’m not sure what to say. Perhaps I should give a passive-
aggressive speech but all the anger and resentment is gone.
I listen to her cry and the only words which come to mind
are, “I’m sorry too.” There are no tears. I’ve cried for what I
lost and it no longer matters.
“Are you okay?” she asks again, voice quavering.
“I will be.” It’s not exactly answering her question, but I
know it’s better for her to hear that, rather than how I am
feeling right now.
“What happened?”
“Just a job perk, Vic.”
“One you won’t tell me about, right?”
I laugh, setting off a sharp twinge of pain in my ribs.
“Right.”
“Just like old times.” I hear her inhale on a cigarette. “We
weren’t always awful to one another, were we?”
“No. Things were great. Until they weren’t.”
She laughs. The sound seems so foreign to me now. “I
suppose that’s a good way of putting it.”
Despite everything that happened between us, I still care
about her. I run my tongue over dry lips. “Are you happy?”
“I am. You?”
My answer is instant. “Yes.”
“I suppose it all worked out in the end then, yeah?”
I smile, thinking of just how well it worked out for me.
“Yeah.” I push myself up on the pillow behind me. “How are
the boys?”
“They’re good. Brutus caught a mouse. I nearly died.” She
laughs again.
I grin, trying to imagine it. It would probably be the first
thing the cat has ever caught. “Hug them for me? And kiss
that furry little head of his.”
“I will.”
“Vic…thanks for calling.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m discharged from the hospital the next day, which is
too soon according to Rebecca. “At least I know there’s
doctors everywhere in case something happens,” she tells
me down a bad telephone line. Her voice is tight with stress.
“What if—”
“It’s been almost four weeks, Bec. If something was going
to happen, it would have happened.” I stare out at my
mailbox. “It’s fine. I love you.”
My parents make sure I’m settled and comfortable before
they go home and Jana plays her Partner of the Firm card to
work from home so she can stay with me for a few weeks.
She purchases a pair of walkie-talkies because call bells are
apparently so last decade and sleeps down the hall in the
spare room. I sleep with my door open and could just call
out but she thinks I’ll like the walkies.
The first morning she’s in my house I’m awake before
dawn and decide to give her a call. I thumb the button on
my walkie. “Mother Bird, this is Nest. Do you copy? Over.”
Nothing. “Repeat. Mother Bird, this is Nest. Do you copy?
Over.”
I hear her hitting the bedside table before a groggy voice
tells me to, “Get fucked.”
“Mother Bird, you didn’t identify yourself and you forgot to
say over. Over.” The sound of the handheld hitting the wall
echoes through the house. I laugh so hard that I have a
coughing fit. Jana comes racing into my room with her hair
in disarray and her eyes panicked. That worked just as well
as the walkies to get her in here.
She works on her laptop, leaving papers strewn at the foot
of my bed while I watch television, read and email everyone
I can think of. Every day, a clerk comes by to pick something
up or drop off thick files for her. She helps me shower until I
get sick of her fussing and send her out of the bathroom.
Jana takes me for my therapy—physical and psychological
—then tells me about the cute soldiers she’s seen while I’m
in my sessions. She comes in when I wake up crying out and
sweating from a nightmare, reassuring me as she curls up
by my side until I fall asleep again.
When it takes a Xanax and thirty minutes of breathing
exercises to leave the house, she’s gentle and patient as
she tries to help me calm down. We stroll very slowly around
the block, me hobbling with a stick, limping badly and
growing more and more frustrated with myself. Jana soothes
me every time I get snappy and teary, or startle whenever
there’s a sudden noise. She cooks and tidies. We talk and
laugh. The whole thing feels like we are teenagers again. I
love having her with me.
But I still don’t have Rebecca. She is due back home the
fifteenth of November and even though it’s less than two
weeks away, I haven’t heard anything firm from her yet. I
want to know exactly when she will be on my doorstep.
Jana makes a note on a legal pad and glances at the
television. “Women’s soccer again?”
I thumb the remote. “Hush. You should be working and I
need something to make me feel better while I convalesce.”
Jana closes her laptop and climbs into bed beside me.
“What’s the score?”
“I don’t know. It’s an old game and I don’t watch it for the
sport, Jannie.”
She swats at me, settling carefully against my shoulder.
“Why don’t we stretch while you’re watching?”
I groan. My sister has turned into a physical therapy
dictator. Even when I’m trying to relax in bed, Jana makes
me do exercises to strengthen my leg and keep my right
arm from seizing up. I get stiff if I don’t move regularly. I
can’t be stiff. I need full range of motion but her constant
insistence seems to trigger a sibling annoyance response in
me. “Fine,” I sigh.
The muscles in my back complain as Jana pulls my arm
forward. I’m still obsessed with wiggling my fingers slowly,
making sure each one moves on command. She mouths
numbers and when she gets to twenty, she releases me and
starts up with her new favorite topic of conversation. “I
fucking knew something was going on with you. Tell me
again. What exactly did she say? Was it like a slow sultry
burn? Or just straight up this is how it is, now take me on
the kitchen table?”
“She said words, Jana.” I bite my lip to stop my smile.
Withholding information makes her crazy.
My sister’s expression would wither flowers. “Sabine. This
is like a classic love story. Against all odds and shit. What
does she look like?”
“Like a person. A very attractive person.”
“Haven’t you got a photo?”
“Nah…”
“If you weren’t so damaged, I would fucking hit you.”
Jana goes to get my lunch, leaving me to worry. It’s nice to
have her so excited about Bec and me but there is still a
long way to go. I’ve had fear dreams of her leaving me or
being forced to stay in the army. Her reassurances do not
reassure me.
“So any idea of when?” Jana asks the moment she’s back
in the room.
“Soon.” I shrug. “We’ve hardly spoken in the past few
days. She’s busy with her last days of deployment and I’m
stuck in a fucking rut, unable to move in any direction. I
seem to be recovering so slowly. Thought I’d be right by
now.” I still need pain meds and I’m terrified that I’m going
to be addicted to them. And I can’t sleep without
nightmares. The thought of going outside, let alone back to
work terrifies me.
Jana sets a sandwich and a banana on my bedside table.
“Be patient. You’re not indestructible.”
“I know,” I snap at her. My sister’s face is blank as she
sets my pill onto the table. I grab her hand and squeeze it.
“I’m sorry, Jannie. I’m being such a shit.”
“Yeah, you are.” She grins cheerfully. “You need to stop
holding yourself to such stupid high standards, Sabs. You
got exploded and shot, and you…” The grin fades, her jaw
going slack.
I raise an eyebrow. “You okay?”
Jana nods, slowly. “Yeah…I guess I’d never actually really
thought about it until right now.” She shakes her head. “I,
uh, I’m going to put dinner in the slow cooker. Eat your
lunch, you cantankerous bitch.” She kisses my forehead and
leaves the room. My sister isn’t like me. She loves therapy
and I’d put money on the fact that she’s making an
appointment right now to work through her feelings about
The Incident.
I grab my laptop. My mailbox has five new messages.
Mitch, Amy, Amy, Rebecca, Bobby. Rebecca’s was sent five
hours ago.
Sabine,
I miss you. I’m not sure what else to say, I feel like there’s
no words to describe the emptiness of not having you here. I
miss you. I said that already. Sorry I haven’t called, things
are crazy at the moment with unit changeovers.
I won’t talk about work, it’s crass. How are you?
Still no firm transport date. How fucking surprising. Amy
says she has a jacket of yours.
I’ll bring it home with me.
I’ll call when I can. I miss you so much, and love you even
more.
Rebecca.
I close the laptop, drop it on the end of the bed and roll
over, ignoring the rest of my lunch. The note about my
uniform reminds me that I’ll need to order a replacement
and boots for when I’m cleared to go back to duty. My
clothes were cut from me back at Invicta and would have
been burned as medical waste, the ashes scattered across
the dirt. Right now, I wonder if part of me was scattered
along with them.
* * *
A couple of days after Bec’s email, Jana and I take an early
morning walk around the streets. We share giggling
judgments about people who still haven’t taken their
Halloween decorations down and she turns around to check
the ass of every guy who jogs past. After breakfast and
another round of seemingly endless stretching, I climb back
into bed. Jana pulls the duvet up over my waist and gives
me my book. I smile up at her, offering a facetious, “Thank
you, nurse.”
“Hush, you.” Jana adjusts the cover over my legs as I flip
my book open.
I’m woken by the doorbell ringing, interrupting a weird
dream about raking leaves with a fork. I need to stop falling
asleep randomly. Stupid drugs. Stupid recovering body. Jana
taps a laptop key. “It’ll just be Shawn with some work.”
“What time is it?” I ask her, wiping my mouth with the
side of my finger. Sleeping drooler strikes again. I push
myself up into a sitting position. The book falls off the bed
with a loud thud.
“Almost noon.” Jana bends down to get my book and sets
it on the bedside table. “Any pain?”
“A little,” I admit. A little back pain and a twinge from my
broken rib, which still complains if I breathe too deeply. “I…
let’s just go half a pill, okay?”
She is already halfway out the door. “Okay, boss. I’ll be
back.”
I make my way to the bathroom and close the door. It’s a
habit. Even though my sister has watched me pee
repeatedly, I still want a little bit of privacy. I half-fall, half-sit
onto the toilet. It takes me some time to get organized and I
haven’t heard her come back by the time I’ve managed to
stand and tug everything back up. I’m tying the string in my
sweats when I hear her call out, “Sabs? Everything okay in
there?”
I flush and move to wash my hands, leaning against the
sink. “Yes,” I respond. “I’ve been peeing for thirty-five years,
Jana.” I push the door open. “I’m sure I can—”
She is not alone.
“Manage,” I finish.
Standing next to my sister and wearing a very smug
expression is Rebecca. I let out a cross between a squeak
and a sob.
“I brought you a gift,” my sister says drily. “Are you going
to thank me?”
“Thank you, Jana,” I respond automatically. Rebecca and I
make eye contact. She never said she was coming back
now, but she’s here.
“Nonreturnable, I’m afraid.” My sister looks sideways at
Rebecca, who is standing just inside the doorway. Jana
comes forward to get her things while I lean against the
bathroom door.
Bec’s out and she is here. I can’t stop looking at her. She
cut her hair, just a little, and she has my favorite expression
on her face, the one of amused delight. It makes her left
cheek lift and shows off that dimple. She’s here. I want to
cry.
Jana stops in front of me, widens her eyes and whispers,
“Holy shit.” She quickly unplugs the laptop, balancing it on
her palm. “I’ll be downstairs in the den. Holler if you need
me.”
“I won’t,” I say instantly.
She stops next to Rebecca and places her free hand on
Bec’s arm. “I’ve been replaced. Devastated.”
Rebecca smiles and turns to watch her leave. I notice she
is carrying a small tub of yogurt and a spoon, as well as my
medication. She steps forward and gestures to the doorway.
“Your sister looks just like you.”
“She’s shorter.”
Rebecca comes closer. “I’ve been given a detailed
rundown of your pain pill routine and I think she might trust
me enough to give you this dose.” Bec holds up the yogurt.
“Do I have to feed you this beforehand?” Her eyes are
shining with tears.
I wipe my eyes. “Yes. Yes you do.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I state the obvious. “You’re here.”
“I’m here. Thought I’d surprise you.” She takes the final
step toward me. “Say please.”
My eyes search hers. “Please.”
She grabs my hip gently and gives me the sweetest kiss,
then enfolds me in a hug and helps me back to the bed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
We agreed to take it slowly and that she should sleep in
the spare room but after I have a thrashing nightmare the
second night, she climbs into my bed. Bec wraps herself
carefully around me and when I wake again, she holds me
tighter. We cry together and talk about The Incident for the
first time. Now, we call it our room.
After another few days she cancels the lease on her
shoebox apartment and begins to move in to my bigger
house. I should have known taking it slowly would never
work—I need her like I need oxygen. She sleeps in my bed
but we’re not sleeping together, even though my physical
therapist and surgeons assure me it’s okay to be intimate.
My want of her is as desperate as ever but in the back of
my mind there are images of muscles tearing loose and
something inside breaking. I know it’s irrational, yet I can’t
shake it. The Wizard tells me fear of intimacy is common
with PTSD sufferers. It’s unfair and I hate that there’s
another thing that’s been turned on its head. Rebecca’s
been sweetly patient with me as I’ve pulled away from
kisses which were becoming heated, or stilled when I’ve
become overwhelmed at the thought of making love to her.
