Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  “What? Wait… what the hell time is it, Jim?” Prairie demanded, still trying to focus in the murkiness of the hospital room. She struggled to sit up.

  “Um… five-ten… gosh, I’m so sorry, Prairie. I hated to wake you up, but…”

  “What the hell, Jim… I’m sleeping!” she hissed. “Jesus Christ. Would you have called me at home with this?” she demanded angrily, still half-asleep.

  “Well, um… no, but I figured since you’re right here… I…”

  “Get out, Jim. Find your paperwork yourself. Figure it out. I’ll see you at seven-thirty—as usual. Jesus.” Prairie flung herself back down onto the bed with her back toward Jim, leaving him to his own devices.

  “Oh, okay. Sorry, Prairie…” he whispered as he quietly backed out of the room.

  “Go. Away. God almighty,” Prairie muttered to herself. She quickly tried to forget the disturbance in order to hopefully eke out another two hours of sleep. Less than twenty minutes later, Prairie was once again roused from her slumber by a nurse asking about a patient’s PT schedule later that morning.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Prairie whined out loud to herself after running the nurse off as she had Jim. She resigned herself to the stark reality she would not get any more sleep that morning.

  Prairie sat up on the end of the oh-so-uncomfortable hospital bed and softly grumbled, “How am I supposed to function with less than six hours sleep every single day? Do these people not realize I’m in my fucking pajamas? Something’s got to change and quick,” she concluded. Prairie looked over at the sleeping and drugged Em, and envied her state of oblivion. “We’ve got to figure something else out, my fragile little bird, or I am going to lose my shit.”

  10.2—As Long As It Takes

  “Hey, Prairie,” Jim said as he walked hesitantly into the large treatment area in the physical therapy department. Prairie was working with an elderly veteran on a low, over-sized treatment table. The patient, Mr. Jacobs, was lying on his back, clearly suffering silently through the passive range of motion exercises necessary after his recent hip replacement surgery. Prairie had her one foot on the ground and a knee on the edge of the blue vinyl-covered table. Filled with dread, Jim approached Prairie with caution. Ever since she began sleeping at the hospital in Em’s room, his formerly laid-back and even fun supervisor had been ill-tempered, making everyone think twice before asking her about anything.

  Prairie looked up from the veteran’s leg she was rotating in circles. “Yeah, what’s up, Jim? Stay relaxed, Mr. Jacobs—you’re doing a great job.” Mr. Jacobs’ grimaced nod indicated a lack of belief on his part.

  “You, um, have a phone call.” Here it comes, Jim thought as he inwardly cringed.

  Focused on her patient, Prairie’s reply was terse, “Take a message, Jim. Can you not see I’m with a patient? Okay, Mr. Jacobs, I want you to gently push your leg against my hand. Whoa, hold on, Hoss…” she exclaimed as Mr. Jacobs pushed not-so-gently against her hand. “Gently…” Prairie urged.

  Though obviously uncomfortable with the task at hand, Jim persisted. “Yeah, um… I tried, but, um… it’s important, Prairie—some Air Force Colonel in Texas. Says she needs to talk to you right away. She didn’t want to leave a message. Said she’d wait on hold—as long as it takes.”

  Prairie stopped what she was doing, holding Mr. Jacobs’ leg in the air. “A Colonel in Texas? Did she say what it’s about?”

  “Yeah, um…” Jim fidgeted. “Em.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Prairie gently laid Mr. Jacobs’ leg down on the table, eliciting a sigh of relief from him. “Mr. Jacobs, I need to take that call, so I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Jim. Jim, we’re doing a series of passive ROM exercises. This is Mr. Jacobs’ third day out of surgery, and he’s doing really well, so you know what to do. Give him about a five minute rest before you start back up. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, Prairie,” Jim replied, and then in a kind voice, addressed the patient on the table. “Hi, Mr. Jacobs. How ya doin’?”

  Prairie turned and walked swiftly to her office across the hall. She’d been wondering when she’d hear directly from the mysterious Colonel who had pulled a lot of strings to get Em transferred. She knew there had been weekly calls to Em, but that’s all she knew. There were a lot of unanswered questions Prairie hoped to get answered. At her desk, Prairie pressed the clear amber flashing extension button and picked up the handset of her phone. “Prairie Vaughn speaking… Colonel Baverstock?”

  10.3—Checking In

  “Well, hello, Miss Vaughn. Yes, this is Colonel Baverstock, but please, call me Dot.” The voice on the other end of the phone had a soft, but distinctive, southern drawl that had an unusual calming effect on Prairie.

  “Oh, okay, sure. And please, call me Prairie.” Prairie attempted a smile, but didn’t quite make it. “What can I do for you, Colonel… er um, Dot?” Prairie inquired guardedly.

  “Oh, now that’s different. Prairie. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Prairie before. Is it a nickname? Short for something?” Dot asked.

  “Thanks. No, my parents were creative namers,” Prairie replied casually, liking how her name sounded with a drawl. She was used to the name conversation—she’d been having it her entire life.

  Dot chuckled. “Well, it’s nice. Anyway, Prairie, I know it’s Thanksgiving week, but I’ve been meaning to call for a while now to see how your patient Em Martín is doing. I sent her there, what, six weeks ago?” Dot inquired.

  “Not quite six weeks.”

  “Well, I’ve been wanting to call and talk to you practically since the first day, but I wanted you and her to get settled, get your bearings and all. She doesn’t need me hovering over her, nor do you. But I have wondered every single day if she’s okay. She doesn’t say much when I call.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I understand.”

  “Now, now… none of that Ma’am stuff—just Dot.”

  “Yes, Ma’am… oops, so sorry,” Prairie mentally kicked herself as she tried to figure out Dot’s angle. “Ingrained reflex… yes, Dot.”

  Dot laughed, sitting back in her desk chair. “I know. I know I always throw everyone off, especially military people who are trained to be polite, but I hear enough of that every day, day in and day out here on the base. Sometimes you just want to be you, if you know what I mean.” She swiveled her chair around to face the large bank of windows behind her and looked out onto the headquarters’ grounds.

  “I do,” Prairie agreed. Suddenly the phone was silent. Prairie pondered whether she should say something or wait for Dot to continue. Dot sighed heavily.

  “This is a bit awkward, but…” Dot stopped just for a moment for a final ponder, then threw caution to the wind. “This here is not an official call,” Dot began carefully. “It could be, I suppose,” she conceded, “but, I wanted to call as a… er, um… let’s say I’m a ‘concerned person’ inquiring about… a… fr… um, someone I know. I don’t want it on the books is what I’m trying to say. I already went above and beyond to get her out there, and… I don’t know what her future plans are. I’d hate to have her suffer down the line for having special treatment. You should know, it can be pretty tough…”

  After everything they’d been through—the modern-day, ridiculous witch hunt perpetrated by that old OSI turd, Dick Elsbee, and Em’s tragically horrific accident with terrible, terrible consequences—Dot had to be careful how she characterized her relationship with Em. Even though Em was no longer on active duty, Dot was, and too close to retirement to take any chances.

  At this point in her life and career, which were synonymous, Dot could not jeopardize her own upcoming retirement. She hated to be so cautious, but to take even the slightest risk would be foolhardy. She also did not want to upend any potential benefits Em might have coming from her accident. Even though Dot knew Em’s parents were wealthy, she also knew Em and her parents were estranged. Em had already rejected her parents’ money on several occasions. Em would need all the
help she could get down the road and Dot wasn’t about to put any type of monetary assistance in jeopardy. Dot leaned on the chair armrest, almost resting her ear on the phone handset.

  “How’s she doing?” Dot asked, her voice softening.

  Prairie caught the hesitancy on Dot’s part regarding Em and the specifics of their relationship, and she definitely caught the change in Dot’s voice when inquiring about Em’s condition. What’s this all about? “Um, she’s doing all right. Not great…” Prairie hesitated. “She’s a little… um…” Because Prairie didn’t know the extent or basis of Dot and Em’s relationship, and it wasn’t an official phone call, she had to be cautious of Em’s privacy. “I mean, she’s good.”

  “Mmmhmmm…” Dot sounded skeptical. “Privacy issues?”

  “Yeah,” Prairie admitted. “I’m sorry. Since you said it’s not an official Air Force inquiry…” Prairie immediately felt uncomfortable.

  Dot sighed, “Yeah, I get it. If I make it official, then… we’ve got to document it, and…” she sighed again. “Well, listen, I pulled a passel of strings to get her transferred out there, closer to her family and, you know, her hometown, hoping it would help her… help her outlook on life, if you get my meaning.”

  Prairie sure did get Dot’s meaning. Em was probably the most miserable, negative, unresponsive patient she’d ever had. Dan Waits described her as a monster, and Prairie had already been given plenty of opportunities to concur, but she refused to label Em—yet. “Yes, um.. I do.” If Prairie could have winked through the phone to convey to Dot the extent of how much she got Dot’s meaning without betraying Em, she would have.

  “Well, has she improved in that way? I mean, did the transfer make a difference—a’tall?” Again, the tone and slight break in Dot’s voice betrayed how much she cared for Em. Dot had seen firsthand how horribly Em was failing in San Angelo, and felt compelled to get her into another environment that wasn’t filled with such unpleasant memories. She hoped getting Em closer to home and family would do the trick, but she knew it was a long shot given how Em felt about her family.

  “Dot,” Prairie began carefully, “you know I have limitations in what I can share, but I have been wondering,” she paused. “You know… I mean, I have her medical records, but they only give part of the story, and she…” Prairie closed her eyes and exhaled softly as she inched over the line. “She’s not talking. I feel as if… if I knew more than just the clinical circumstances, I could help her more, you know?”

  “Yeah… Well, gal, I would say we’re at an impasse, because I cannot betray Em’s trust. If she’s not talking…” Dot audibly sighed, her frustration with the situation practically enveloping her. “Damn.” She drummed her fingers on her padded chair arm, the flesh of the tips of her fingers on the leather making the soft sound of small galloping horses.

  “Listen,” Dot began, “I’m planning on taking a little West Coast jaunt after the first of the year. I’m rotating to a job in D.C.—the last time before I retire—so I’m going to take some leave and do a little reconnaissance. I want to see for myself what that California is all about. I’ll definitely swing by and see Em before I get myself all caught up in the D.C. culture. Maybe then…”

  Dot quickly swung her chair back around to face her desk. She leaned over and picked up a pen out of a cup filled with pens and pencils, jotted a note on the large desk protector calendar with a long To Do list on the side, and then reached across the desk to put the pen back in the cup.

  “D.C.,” Prairie replied. “That’s a pretty good assignment, isn’t it?” she asked out of a combination of curiosity and politeness.

  “Well, personally, if I could retire yesterday…” Dot shook her head as she leaned back into the chair and played with the phone cord. “But I can’t, not the way I want to, so the D.C. job was the first to come up. I’ve just got to get off this base…” her voice trailed off as she quickly flashed back to all the troubles just months ago, relieved she would soon be able to leave those unpleasant memories behind. In less than two years, she’d be able to leave the whole Air Force shebang behind—for good. Then, for once, she’d be able to live a more free and open life. “Anyway, it’s not the greatest job, but compared to being Base Commander, it’s a skate. And I’ll take that any old day.” Dot laughed heartily.

  “That does sound great,” Prairie said. “Well, Dot, I certainly look forward to meeting you when you come out for your visit. Keep me posted on that.”

  “Of course, Prairie.”

  “In the meantime,” Prairie continued solemnly, “I want you to know, Dot, I’m doing everything in my power to help Em. I truly appreciate you asking for me specifically to help her. There are a lot of other people way more qualified than me, so… that…” Prairie was at once filled with an odd mixture of pride, as well as regret that she wasn’t having much success with Em. “That means a lot to me. I’m trying with everything I have in me to live up to your expectations.”

  “Hey now, I wanted the best, and your name kept coming up, Prairie. Apparently they call you Wonder Woman? Now that I’ve gotta see!” Dot chuckled. “And so, I have complete and utter faith in you and your super hero abilities.” Dot chuckled again, but then her mood turned serious. “I know I sent you probably the most difficult case imaginable, but… you can do it,” she urged, her voice filled with unwavering confidence. “I need you to do it.” Prairie didn’t know how much Dot blamed herself for so much of what led to Em’s accident. She needed Prairie to answer her prayers.

  Prairie was again struck by the warm timbre of Dot’s voice, but more than that, the incredible sense of encouragement she felt as Dot spoke. Dot really moved her. This is a true leader, Prairie concluded. I bet she could get anyone to do just about anything for her—or the country.

  “Thank you.” Prairie had a sudden urge to salute, which was stupid since she was sitting there in hospital scrubs and was no longer in the military.

  “All right, then,” Dot began to wrap up the call. “Oh, hey, y’all doing anything special for Thanksgiving?” Dot’s emphasis was on “thanks,” her Southern roots showing again.

  “Um,” Prairie replied, “I normally go home to Montana, but this year I’m just going to hang out here in California for um… you know,” Prairie hesitated, hating to admit she didn’t want to leave Em, even if for a few days.

  “For Em,” Dot interrupted, touched that Prairie would stay in town for Em. “That’s awful nice of you, Prairie.”

  “Well, um, yeah, my roommates are going to have a big bash, so—you know…” Prairie began to get a little flustered. “How about you? Anything special?”

  “Me? Oh, there’s a big to do at the Officer’s Club I’ll go to. They put out a nice spread, good entertainment. It’s fine. No big deal. It’s a meal I don’t have to cook.” Dot didn’t have any family or friends to speak of in Texas, and she didn’t care for traveling over holiday weekends—it was her best option for the holiday.

  “Sounds good,” Prairie said, though she was glad she would be spending the holiday with people she loved, and not with Air Force officers. “Um, Dot…” Prairie wanted to avoid the subject at all costs, but she felt obligated to inform Dot about what had happened to Em. If only she didn’t have to break the rules to do it.

  “Mmmm…?”

  “There’s, um, something I should tell you about, but…” She couldn’t stop now. Prairie could feel Dot getting riled up all the way from Texas. “It has to stay between us—that I told you.”

  Dot sat up in her chair, catching something in Prairie’s voice she didn’t yet understand, but already didn’t like what she was sensing. “Go on.”

  “Well, um… You know, technically, because of privacy and all, I shouldn’t…”

  “I got it.” Dot stated with worry in her voice. “Just tell me.”

  “Okay. We need to move Em out of the hospital, because—”

  “What do you mean, move her out?”

  “There was an incident, th
at—”

  “What? An incident? What kind of incident?” Dot was doing everything she could to stay calm.

  Prairie let out a deep breath. “Okay… Some creepy orderly tried to molest her while she was sedated for the evening, and—”

  Dot stood up abruptly, “What!? What the hell—” she demanded, her voice raised just below the level of hysteria.

  “She’s totally fine, Dot,” Prairie interrupted, trying to stay ahead of Dot. “She’s… okay… fine, actually. She was initially shaken up pretty good, but I’ve been sleeping in her room with her ever since—she’s safe, but…”

  “But what?” Dot demanded. She was about ready to book a flight out to California the minute she hung up the phone.

  “I have a meeting scheduled with my roommates tonight—I’m going to ask them if she can bunk with us for a while. I think it will be really good for her to get out of the hospital, y’know, regardless of the, um… the incident.”

  Dot sat down. “You’re willing to do that? When did this happen?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  Dot didn’t say anything as she processed what Prairie was telling her.

  “Dot?”

  “You’ve been staying with her… ever since?”

  “Yes.”

  Dot was speechless. When she chose Prairie for Em’s case, she was told Prairie was known as Wonder Woman. She didn’t fully believe it then, but now, she was a true believer.

  “That… Prairie, that is probably the…” Dot couldn’t find the words to express her gratitude for Prairie. “That poor kid…” Dot’s stomach was in a knot. “Thank you, Prairie. Not many people would do that.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Do you think your roommates will agree? That’s a pretty big commitment.”

  Prairie sighed. “Well, they’re really cool people—the best, really—I think they will. But…”

  “But?”

  “I haven’t said anything to Em yet.”

  “Oh, boy. But she’s okay? I mean, nothing happened…” Dot quickly brushed a tear from her cheek. Over the initial shock of the near molestation, she was so relieved that Em wasn’t hurt in any way, but was surprised at the raw emotion she was experiencing.