by M. L. Rice
Bryce’s smile faltered. “Will I be able to swim at all? I don’t think I can kick properly with this leg.”
“From what I hear, you were a champion swimmer. I don’t think you’re going to drown,” he said dryly. “And oh yeah, I know what the hell I’m doing, so shut your mouth and get changed.” His eyes twinkled despite his harsh words and Bryce couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, Sergeant!”
When she’d changed and carefully lowered herself into the water she was overcome with something like comfort. Not quite the normal overwhelming calm and euphoria she used to feel, but it was close. It was like a homecoming of sorts. She hadn’t been in the water in months, even before the accident. She let out a long sigh and relaxed as the warmth surrounded her.
“Don’t get too comfy, Lieutenant. You don’t know what I have planned yet.” Thomas smirked.
“Tough love again?”
“You got it.”
*
Getting back in the water had been the catalyst she needed. Learning to walk again was still incredibly painful and frustrating, but it was worth it now that she had graduated to walking with a cane instead of hobbling around on the crutches. It had taken two months, but at least she had made some progress. Still, knowing that the limp and the cane were going to be ever-present in her life depressed her. The only time she could move with an ease that came anywhere close to equaling her before-accident condition was when she swam. Kicking in the water didn’t seem to be a struggle for her like walking in a straight line had become. She’d never win any races, but she still moved with a freedom and fluidity that made the extent of her injury completely invisible to the untrained eye.
Despite her progress in physical therapy, she was still unable to come to terms with the injury to her face. Every time she looked in the mirror she saw the hideous scar. It had come to represent her entire situation. She was ruined for the two things she wanted more than anything: her career and a meaningful relationship. She hadn’t planned for anything else. There was no plan B. She didn’t know if she could face what was to come when her physical therapy ended and she had to go before the medical board and show them that she was still unfit for active-duty service.
These thoughts ran through her head as she sat in the hospital waiting room. Thomas was late for their daily session, and that just gave her more time to brood. She absentmindedly poked at the muscles in her left leg. They had atrophied a lot while her leg was in the cast, but they seemed to be regaining strength slowly. Maybe it would at least look normal in several months. Not like her face. She grimaced thinking about the puffy red skin distorting her features.
She had become hesitant to leave her gloomy little apartment knowing that people would stare. Going across the street to the VA was one thing—there were many there who were far worse off than she—but going to the grocery store had become such an ordeal for her that she had signed up for a grocery delivery service. Adults who saw her tended to look away quickly with pity etched upon their faces, but the children stared in horror, ignorantly unaware of the insult they were adding to her injury. She only left her apartment for therapy sessions now. How she was going to be able to stand like a lab specimen in front of a medical board was beyond her.
Approaching footsteps roused her from the despondent thoughts. She looked up and saw a middle-aged naval lieutenant commander in the everyday working khaki uniform glance at a chart and then head directly for her, a sincere smile on his face. Bryce stumbled to her feet, bracing herself on the edge of her chair as she tried to salute and stand at attention.
“At ease, Lieutenant, at ease. Please, have a seat.” He gestured at the chair she had just vacated.
As Bryce sat down she noticed with a sickening plummeting of her stomach the gold cross on the officer’s left lapel. She tried pointedly to focus on the lieutenant commander’s lined face.
The man noticed her grimace despite her attempts and gave her an apologetic look. “Bad history with chaplains, Lieutenant?”
Bryce spoke softly, obviously wary of anyone with a strong religious bent. “No, sir. Just with certain…zealous people. No offense to you, sir.”
The chaplain nodded sadly. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that. There are some people out there who give my life’s calling a bad name. But don’t worry, I’m just here to check on you and the other VA patients. I’m here if you need any guidance, advice, or just want to talk things out. My name is Chaplain Davis.” He smiled and held out his hand for her to shake.
Bryce took the proffered hand but otherwise sat still and silent.
The chaplain studied her. “Would you like to chat for a little while? You look like you have a lot on your mind. It might help to have someone who will listen.”
Bryce shrugged with noncommittal apathy.
“How do you feel you’re coping with your injuries, Lieutenant? Emotionally, I mean.”
Bryce swallowed hard as she fought an unexpected flood of self-pity and sadness. “I’m fine, sir.”
Chaplain Davis looked at her for a moment before saying, “How are you coping really?”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I understand.” He paused and looked out of the window for a moment before adding, “I’ll be back around every couple of days or so if you change your mind. Please know that I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to be Christian, or religious at all. I’m here for everyone.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She was done talking and the chaplain seemed to sense it, so he made a movement for Bryce to stay seated as he smiled and left the room.
Bryce couldn’t believe it. After all that had happened to her, both with her church, her parents, and now her body and career, she was going to be confronted by religion again. And religion in Bryce’s mind had come to equate itself with bigotry and intolerance. She knew she couldn’t handle that in her current condition. Her strength had all but failed her and she felt as fragile as a Faberge egg, both inside and out, the haphazard patterns on her shell masquerading as purposeful decorations barely holding her together. It wouldn’t take much pressure at all to cause her to crumble.
She jumped as Thomas spoke only a few feet from where she was sitting. She hadn’t noticed him come in. “I got a penny.”
“What?”
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Bryce sighed. Maybe she did need to talk to someone. She hadn’t spoken to her friends in a while, even though they called constantly. She just couldn’t bear to have them hear defeat in her voice for the first time ever. She also refused to speak to a military psychologist, preferring to try to get through everything on her own, just as she had always done. But it didn’t seem to be working this time. Despite the exemplary progress with her leg, her bouts of depression were growing stronger and her will to get on with her life rapidly diminishing.
“A chaplain named Davis just came in to see me.”
Thomas nodded. “Yeah, he used to come by several times a week to minister to the folks here. He just got back from six months overseas or else you would have seen him earlier. He’s a good one, that Davis.”
“I’m not religious, Thomas.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable talking to someone who…who might judge me.” Bryce’s lip quivered involuntarily.
Thomas looked pensive. “Sounds like you been treated bad by some of those who call themselves Christian. Am I right?”
Bryce nodded and looked down, pretending to examine a small scar on her left arm.
“I thought so. Now, I have a deal for you.”
Bryce looked up at him with watery eyes.
“If we skip the treadmill today and spend the whole time in the pool, will you do me a favor?”
She couldn’t help but nod. Thomas knew her weakness.
“Talk to that man.”
“Thomas, I—”
“Bryce, he’s a good man and a
good chaplain. Forget about all the religious stuff. You need to talk to someone and he’s the best person for it.”
Bryce made a face.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded again.
“Talk to him, then. Please? For me.”
Bryce let the idea tumble around in her brain for a minute before deciding that her fear of rejection and judgment was less than her need to get everything off her chest. And, she did trust Thomas. A lot. “Okay. For you, I will.”
“Good girl. Now get your lazy ass up and start doing laps.”
*
Two days later Bryce sat in the same chair in the same room, waiting for Thomas to come and get her yet again. Sure enough, Chaplain Davis entered and gave her the same winning smile. She started to rise, but he again motioned for her to sit down.
“How are you doing, Lieutenant? That cloud above your head doesn’t seem as dark and stormy today.”
Bryce was determined to keep her promise to Thomas, so she gathered up her courage and settled in for a real conversation. “I got some advice from a friend, so I’m trying to follow it. Having a plan helps me get my thoughts in order, I guess.”
“Excellent!” He looked genuinely pleased. “How is your treatment going?”
“Apparently I’m doing better than most for this kind of injury, but it doesn’t seem like much when I don’t have anything to look forward to.”
“What do you mean you don’t have anything to look forward to?”
Oh no. She was starting to choke up. She didn’t want to show him weakness by crying. “I mean…you know…I’m going to be forced to medically retire…sir.”
“Don’t worry about the ‘sir’ thing right now. Right now I’m just a chaplain. Ignore the rank.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chaplain Davis smiled. “Is that what bothers you most?”
“The rank?”
He smiled warmly, “No, no, the possibility that you’ll have to leave the Coast Guard?”
Bryce paused, contemplating. “That’s definitely a big part of it. This is all I’ve wanted for…for a long time. I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“From what I hear you’re extremely smart, talented, and dependable. I’m sure you have a bright future ahead of you, even if it’s not in the service. The world needs people like you.”
She shook her head incredulously.
“Have you had the opportunity to talk to anyone else about how you’re feeling? Your friends? Your parents?”
Crack.
Bryce broke down. She could barely see the chaplain through her tears, but from what she could make out, he looked surprised and worried.
“Miss Montgomery, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
She tried to steady her breathing, but could only say, “No…sir…it’s not…you.”
“I’m here to listen if you need to talk about it.”
His words sounded genuine and kind. Bryce realized, right then, she was going to tell him everything. She wouldn’t be able to help it. Every tormenting memory, every poisonous thought, every emotional and physical trauma she had endured since her senior year of high school was about to erupt onto this poor, unsuspecting Navy chaplain. Well, he’d asked for it.
*
At least an hour must have passed by the time Bryce stopped talking. She had peripherally noticed Thomas enter and then leave the room, and her throat was dry and sore from crying and spilling her guts. But she had done it. She’d bared her soul to someone who might damn her to hell just as her mother had.
What had she been thinking?
When it was obvious she’d finished her confession, the chaplain placed his hand on her shoulder. “Bryce?”
She blew her nose wetly into her thousandth tissue before replying, “Sir?”
“I want to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all of those personal things that have been a weight on your shoulders for so long. I’m truly honored.”
She shrugged lamely. “I couldn’t really help it.”
“It seems that these things have been bothering you for a long time. Do you feel better now that you’ve been able to talk about them?”
Bryce considered this. She did actually feel a little lighter. She nodded.
“Good. I’m glad. I’m also very, very sorry to hear about what your parents did to you. What they and your ex-minister did was most definitely not in the true spirit of our Lord or of Christianity in general. No wonder you were so uncomfortable the first time we met. Please allow me to apologize on behalf of those who misconstrue the words of the Bible to match their own twisted beliefs.”
Bryce looked at him in astonishment. Of course, she knew that not all religious believers were bad people; she knew amazing people of almost every religious bent, but having a chaplain be so understanding about her situation shocked her.
“Lieutenant, let me show you something.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. After digging through countless credit cards, receipts, and folded money, he finally pulled out a faded and bent photograph. “This,” he held the picture up, “is my sister Karen, her wife Michelle, and their daughter Mary, my beautiful niece. They are my family and I will love them no matter what the rest of the world might say.” He extended his arm, offering it to Bryce. “The picture is a bit out of date. Mary is in college now, but I wanted you to see them.”
She slowly took the picture from him, bringing it close to her face and looking for shame or unhappiness in the eyes of the women, but she saw only joy and love.
“I’m showing you this so that you know that nothing is wrong with you. I know that many of the world’s religions get up on a misguided high horse and try to put others down because they’re different. This isn’t the way it should be and it’s certainly not what I preach to those in my care.”
Looking at the picture lit a fire inside Bryce’s chest. She had let the words of her parents, of Pastor Harold, of that damnable Mrs. Coulson spread like venom for years, and now this one man had just injected her with something that felt uncannily like life. Real, unapologetic, hopeful life.
Tears fell down her cheeks again. “Thank you.” She handed the photo back to him and he placed it carefully back in his wallet.
Chaplain Davis leaned forward. “Will you do something for me, Bryce?”
“Of course, sir.” She sniffed quietly.
“I want you to start living again. Live on your terms and don’t ever let anyone tell you what you can or cannot be.”
Bryce protested by gesturing to her leg, but the chaplain cut her off. “I’m not talking about your career, Lieutenant. I’m talking about you. Who you are in your heart. Jobs come and go. Physical ability is fickle and fades with time anyway. But you.” He pointed straight at her chest. “You have to learn to live your life free from the fear of the prejudices of those around you. There are those out there who love you. You told me about your three best friends, for example. Do you think they’re wrong for loving you as you are?”
Bryce shook her head, ashamed.
“Right. Trust in them. Trust in yourself. And never, ever give up.” He smiled broadly and sat back in his chair. “Okay. Lame motivational speaker time over now.”
With a quivering breath Bryce replied, “I’ll try, sir.”
Thomas then entered the room again and stood next to the chaplain. “Well, you missed the physical part today, but you surely didn’t miss the therapy.”
“Sorry about that.” Bryce smiled weakly, her eyes still puffy from her break down.
“Hey, don’t you worry about a thing. You needed that conversation more than a few extra lunges. Besides, you’ll be done with me in a few more sessions.”
“Oh no.” Bryce felt a surge of fear knowing that she would be on her own after her physical therapy sessions ended.
“You’ll be fine,” Chaplain Davis and Thomas said as one before smiling at each other.
Bryce only hoped that they were right. She had a
long way to go to get there.
Chapter Seventeen
“Bear, off the bookshelf. Now.” She snapped her fingers and the fluffy dark gray cat dutifully jumped to the floor. As if asking forgiveness, he sprang up purring onto Bryce’s stomach as she lay on the couch watching a Modern Marvels marathon, crumbs from her breakfast of chips and salsa littering her T-shirt, couch, and floor.
Named after the Coast Guard Academy’s mascot, Bear, a starving stray kitten she had discovered crying for his long-gone mother in the bushes outside of the VA, had been her only companion since her physical therapy sessions had ended three months ago. She never left her apartment and instead spent all of her time working out, watching TV, playing Xbox, and teaching herself how to play the guitar. She had never been so lazy in her whole life and she found that while it didn’t suit her, she couldn’t stand the thought of trying to integrate back into civilian society with her damaged features and lack of direction.
Two weeks ago she had stood before the medical board and, as she had expected, they had found that her leg had been too damaged to allow her to return to active duty. She had been hoping for the opportunity to at least take a desk job, but her leg just wouldn’t bend well enough or move easily enough to pass the physical. After being forced into medical retirement she had lain in bed for two full days, doing nothing but stare at the ceiling and sleep fitfully with dreams of desperately trying to keep her ship on course in huge storms. It was only the pitiful mewling of Bear that had made her finally emerge from her stupor to feed and play with him.
Today, Modern Marvels marathon or no, she knew that she had to eventually get up and clean the apartment. Jennifer, Arati, Leah, and Leah’s girlfriend Hannah were coming to visit for a full week starting tomorrow. Bryce planned to stay with everyone in a reserved hotel suite downtown, but her friends would still come over to her apartment to pick her up and meet Bear, so it had to look at least halfway presentable. Not like the dark, disheveled, and depressing den of a workout-obsessed shut-in.
