The Flight of Hope

by HJ Bellus

  The night goes on a lot like this; banter, good friends, and even better food. We all have a good time and enjoy several laughs. It’s nice having Coy home. It was hell on Maddie when he was away at boot camp. She hasn’t missed a minute with him since the several months he’s been home. Damn newlyweds. Maddie and I have been dedicated to our weekly coffee dates and staying in touch. It’s nice to have a friend like her around where she’s genuinely interested in me and not getting closer to Bentley or my family, specifically my dad to climb higher up in the army ranks.

  It’s been a fact of my life all through the years and has never really bothered me because of the close-knit bond I have with my family and Bentley. I’m so happy for Maddie and Coy that they’re back together and for the time being, it looks like he will be stationed here at the home base for a while.

  All of us army wives know anything can change in the blink of an eye, but we embrace the present, the now, and everything we have in between. Our men serve our country and their families. It’s an honor. But the heart doesn’t always see it that way.

  We clean up the mess from dinner. All the food has long disappeared, not because of Maddie or myself, but mainly our men. It really doesn’t matter if it’s burned, charred, or even an identifiable pot of slop, these men will finish it off. They know the way to a woman’s heart, and that’s by eating their cooking; the ugly, the pretty, and the delicious meals.

  Once everything is cleaned up, we all sit on the front porch. The men with their Hefeweizen and us girls with our raspberry beers. We sit in silence for a long beat of time. Maddie isn’t in the mood to drink. She hasn’t even sipped on her drink. I’m on my second one, but also made mine a virgin, not letting anyone else know.

  “Well, since I returned from Boot Camp it didn’t take us long,” Coy announces, taking a long pull from his beer.

  Bentley shoots him a questioning stare, urging him to finish on with his weird ass statement. Maddie slaps Coy’s chest, and at that moment I know what’s coming.

  My heart sinks and my skin prickles with fear and excitement. I know I have to be happy for them and I am happy for them, but it doesn’t lessen the sting.

  And on cue Coy pipes up

  “We’re pregnant! Man, I did it! There’s a Coy junior coming. My goddamn swimmers were so good, knocked her up the first time we banged after coming home from Boot Camp.” Coy takes a long celebratory pull from his beer.

  Maddie giggles and I force a laugh right along with her. Coy isn’t disrespectful; he’s being himself among good friends. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Bentley’s hand in my hand grips a little tighter, letting me know he’s here for me.

  I make everything disappear, swallowing down the pain and congratulate them. I am happy for them and will be happy for them. I want the same thing, and it doesn’t seem to be happening. I’ve often wondered if I want this too much and that’s why Mother Nature is telling me to be patient and wait.

  I still haven’t taken the pregnancy test, but I will tomorrow. And we will go from there. I’m able to focus myself and concentrate on the positive side of this because of Bentley’s hand gripping mine. He doesn’t ease up but only grips my hand tighter. As long as I have Bentley Foster, everything will be okay. We can get through anything and will.

  “When are you due?” Bentley clears his throat before asking.

  Maddie beams with excitement as she gives us all of the details. Their families don’t even know yet. Coy and Maddie put us under strict instructions to keep it a secret because they don’t want to share with others until after their first doctor appointment. It’s an honor to know they chose us to share the new good news with.

  Without conscious thought, I run my free hand over my lower abdomen, sending up a silent prayer to God. I know it’s our time, and this time it will happen. Everything is perfect. I have to keep faith it’s the only way I won’t drown. I have so much to be thankful for, and that’s what will keep me going.

  I feel his warm breath on the shell of my ear before he whispers. “I love you, Marlee Foster.”

  I turn my head slightly until our lips meet and mumble right back into his lips. “I love you more.”

  “Get a damn room you, two horndogs,” Coy hollers out.

  I don’t look over to him, but hear the resounding smack that undoubtedly Maddie whomped him with. It makes me giggle, but just for a few seconds. Bentley grips the back of my head, pulling me closer, and he kisses the hell out of me. This right here is what will keep me grounded forever no matter what our future does or doesn’t hold.

  9

  “Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.” -H. Jackson Brown, Jr

  A serene sensation dances over the pond this morning. It’s quiet, eliciting a sense of peace nothing else could ever offer up. A tug on my line alerts my attention back to my fishing pole. I give it a light yank and begin reeling it in.

  The sunrise is as tranquil as they come, but I still have a restless feeling in my bones. Papa Wally was too tired to go with me this morning. I can’t recall a time when he ever refused an opportunity to spend time at the pond fishing. I continue reeling in the fish until a beauty of rainbow trout splashes out of the pond. The natural high and shot of adrenaline courses through my body.

  Papa stocks the pond and the river that feeds into it, always providing us a wide variety of fish. Rainbow trout are his favorite to catch, and that’s why I unhook the beauty and toss him back in. I spend the rest of the morning doing the same thing. I have a meeting around one to close a deal on a ranch house style home across town and later tonight family dinner at Mom’s house.

  I finish up early and head home to clean up. The house is quiet and empty. I hate it when it feels like this. It’s only a home when Bentley is here with me. I ignore the hollow feeling and get ready for work. My fingertips graze over the sealed pregnancy test in my makeup drawer. I can’t do it right now even though I promised myself. Tonight. I’ll take it tonight, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  “Are you kidding me?” The toe of my designer boot slams into the wall of the flat tire. “I don’t have time for this.”

  My day has gone from perfect to shit in a matter of seconds. The sale fell through on the house on a technicality coupled with the owners not willing to work with the buyers. And now a flat tire on the highway a good fifteen miles from home.

  I reach for my phone in my purse and am greeted with a blinking red battery icon.

  “Shit!”

  I’m notorious for never charging my phone. My family and Bentley are regularly riding my ass about it and love harassing me on the subject. I live up to my stubborn self and try to dial Bentley’s number. Before it even rings, the phone dies.

  I send it into the asphalt out of rage. Dumb, dumb decision, but all rationality has vanished. I pick back up the tire iron and try to loosen the lug nuts with no success. Yes, I know how to change a tire, and this one wouldn’t be my first, but whoever in the hell rotated them last time wrenched them so tight I can’t even get it to budge.

  I am screwed. I slam the tire iron down on my cell phone to make me feel good at least for the damn moment. I’m resigned to being stranded after a shit day. The only thing going my way is the slight breeze keeping the damn mosquitos at bay. I fling open the driver’s side door and flop into my SUV. I don’t bother to shut the damn door, propping my foot up through the driver’s side window, letting it dangle out and slouching back in my driver’s seat.

  I feel each minute as it ticks by. I’m bored beyond belief, and there’s not one damn thing I can do about it. I try to close my eyes, willing sleep to come along like when I was a child and wanted time to pass faster. I’m so livid, sleep isn’t even an option. Finally, I turn the key and glance at the digital numbers on the radio. It’s been almost two hours. Okay, an hour and fifteen minutes, but it’s felt like every single second of two hours. I’ve peeled off all the nail polish on my nails and chewed the last stick of gum in my purse.

>   I’ve resigned myself to start walking. I throw all the items back in my purse that have been entertaining me and ready myself to hoof it home. I won't have to do cardio for weeks, hell, possibly even a year. And if I’m realistic, I’ll more than likely die on the trek. I’m normal body size, but not into being fit, gym clothes, and packing a water bottle at all times. I’m more of the Diet Coke in hand, limiting carbs so that I can indulge in sweets once a week kind of girl.

  As soon as my boot hits the pavement, I hear it. I’d know that sound anywhere. It’s his truck. The same sound that used to make my heart go pitter-patter in our high school days and now the one to save the day. My knight in shining armor, my husband, the man known as Bentley Foster.

  I use my hand to shade my eyes from the sun beginning to set. The black truck slows down. I can hear him gearing down as he pulls in behind me. He’s not alone. My other hero is in the passenger seat. My daddy. The doors to the truck open in unison, black boots step out, and they stride to me in their fatigues.

  My shoulders slump in relief, knowing my day has been saved. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep the tears held back. I don’t cry often and when I do it’s out of frustration or anger.

  “Looking for fun, sexy?” Bentley reaches forward, grabbing me by the hip, tugging me to him. “Because if you are…”

  I bury my face into his chest, inhaling his scent, gulping it by the lung full, ignoring all of his cheesy ass pick-up lines he’s throwing my way. I know he’s trying to melt away the shitty day even though he has no idea about any of the details. It’s the way we work.

  “Bad day, Birdie?” Dad walks past us, ruffling up my hair.

  “You could say that,” I mumble into Bentley’s chest, relishing the last few seconds of his embrace.

  “Phone dead?” Bentley whispers in my ear.

  I do my best to nod.

  “Guess you lost the bet.”

  This makes me giggle. Of course, he’d remember. Bentley’s always riding my ass about keeping it charged and threw out a bet one night while we were lying in bed.

  “Daddy gets butt sex tonight!” Bentley bites down on the lobe of my ear.

  I gift him with a punch to the gut, which only makes him throw back his head in laughter.

  “Not a damn chance.” I shove off his chest and turn to the flat tire and my dad.

  “A bet is a bet,” Bentley sings out.

  I know he’ll never let me live this one down. Hate to break it to him, but it’s never ever happening. He smiles like a loon the whole time helping Dad change the flat. They make it look easy, which pisses me off even more. I need a huge ass bottle of wine tonight. That thought takes me right to what I’m preparing myself for when I get home. The test. No adult beverages for me until I know.

  I was certain last night that everything was perfect, and it was our time, but after the events of today, I’m losing that sliver of hope.

  “You’re ready to roll, Birdie.” Dad tugs me into a hug. “I’d chew your ass, but those lug nuts were a bitch to get off. Drive slow until you get to a tire shop in the morning.”

  “Telling her to drive slow is like telling Santa Claus to not love Christmas.” Bentley brushes off the front of his pants.

  “Ass,” I chime back, climbing into my car relieved to have been saved.

  “Race you home.” Bentley slaps the top of the car and leans in for a quick kiss.

  “I never lose,” I whisper into his lips.

  I take it easy on peeling out, spraying gravel in the grill of his truck, but make sure I’m the first to pull into our driveway. Dad shakes his head at me, knowing it’s worthless to chew my ass for not following his advice. He disappears down the narrow trail that leads to my childhood home.

  “See you in a bit for dinner,” I holler to him. “Love you, Dad.”

  All I see is a wave of his hand over the tall pasture grass. Then a stinging slap lands on my ass right before I’m pulled into a tight hug. Bentley bends down, running his nose through my hair, inhaling my scent.

  “Coconut and oranges. My favorite.”

  “You say that about every scent on me.”

  “So.” He holds me back by my shoulders staring at me. “Who or what pissed in your Cheerios?”

  “Shit day. I’m worried about Papa Wally, the deal fell through, the flat tire, and now we will be late for family dinner.” I try to shrug under his palms. “And I won’t have time to make my famous sour cream, cheese, bacon dip.”

  “I’m sorry, Birdie.” He pulls me back to his chest. “But you get to come home to a stud of a husband.”

  I chuckle into his chest, wrapping my arms low around his waist. He begins walking me backward to our house. I trust him enough that I don’t decide to look up or squeal. When the back of my legs hit the stairs, Bentley pulls me up into his arms, carrying me the rest of the way into the house.

  “No matter how shitty of a day you’ve had, there’s no excuse not to make your Dorito crack dip. None.”

  “It’s too late, Bentley.”

  “Nonsense.”

  He keeps walking through the house until we are in the master bathroom and I’m sitting on the countertop right next to the unopened pregnancy test. Bentley glances at it but doesn’t say a word. He goes about starting a hot bath. Like always my sexy husband juggles three Lush bath bombs in his hands. He’s like a damn four-year-old when it comes to them. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve explained how expensive they are. Bentley claims you can’t put a price tag on little balls of fun. He tosses all three in then begins to undress me.

  In a matter of minutes, I’m in the tub surrounded by a field of varying scents and fizz. Bentley bends down, kissing me with force and a promise of so much more before whirling around on his heels, stripping off his white t-shirt that was underneath his fatigues earlier.

  “We are going to be…” I’m cut off.

  “I’m going to jump in the guest shower, make the dip, and then we will head over.” He winks at me. “I got you, Birdie.”

  “You just want that damn dip.”

  “Damn straight, woman.” He rounds the corner, whistling the tune of “Patience” by Guns N Roses.

  Through the shitastic day, the sound makes me melt. I let the hot water wrap around me, melting away the worries of the day. A few cuss words and clanging come from the kitchen are making me giggle. If I were a betting woman, I’d put money on the fact Bentley cut himself slicing the green onions. I lay my head back, close my eyes, and let my mind go blank.

  It’s not until the water grows chilly that I force myself out of the tub. I’m immediately saddened by the fact Bentley didn’t get to join me. Long, hot baths are one of our favorite pastimes. He links up his Bluetooth speaker, playing his favorite old rock and roll songs; I light candles, we enjoy drinks, and relax.

  I begin toweling off the droplets of water running from my body when I spot the yoga pants and Army t-shirt laying on the counter. I didn’t even hear Bentley when he delivered them during my zone out session. An idea strikes me, erasing the remorse over not sharing a hot bath with him.

  I reach up into the vanity and pull out his bottle of Pi cologne. I’m addicted to the scent and spray our sheets and some of my clothes when he’s out of town. I went through cases when he was deployed. I spritz the shirt to ensure he’ll surround me all night.

  “Ten minutes, Birdie.”

  “Okay, baby,” I holler back, reaching for my plum berry body lotion.

  I go about lathering up my skin before reaching for my clothes. I freeze, slam my eyes shut, and will away the dread. No. No. No. This can’t be happening. I refuse to open my eyes facing reality.

  It doesn’t work. The warm liquid continues to flow down my legs. After long moments of my heart not beating and my shallow breathing, I pop open my eyes to see dark, crimson red liquid trailing down my legs. My body gives out on me. I collapse on the bathroom floor.

  I hide my face in the palms of my hands unable to shed an emotion. I kne
w for sure it had happened this time. My body is telling me otherwise. I’m numb, so damn numb I don’t even feel the pain. The sound of my heart shattering is deafening.

  “Birdie, you ready?”

  Bentley’s voice comes from off in the distance. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I rock back and forth, fighting for the courage to move on. I struggle to focus on everything I have and not the loss I’m experiencing. I don’t know how many more times it will take to learn my lesson. Every single time I will myself to not get my hopes up because they only get obliterated.

  “Baby.”

  Bentley’s voice is louder this time nearing me. I fight to sit up and move, but there’s so much blood underneath, taunting me to run. Slide and slip around in my misery. The first sob escapes me, cracking my chest wide open. Once it starts, it doesn’t end.

  I hear myself crying in pain and misery, but am unable to believe those sounds are coming from me. I grab a towel, clutching it to my chest, continuing to rock back and forth willing time to halt.

  “Baby…” Bentley freezes in the doorway when I peer up. He covers his mouth, and when I see his eyes fall in horror, I lose everything I was battling to keep control of. Shrill screams escape me one after another. I study his bare feet as he nears me. Soon his arms wrap around me. His hot, wet tears tumble down onto the top of my shoulders.

  “I’ve got you, Birdie, I’ve got you.” He rocks back and forth, holding me nearing a painful point.

  “I thought…”

  “It’s okay.” He kisses the top of my head, continuing to soothe me by keeping up the rocking motion. “We will be fine.”

  I believe him. Each letter of every single word as if they were the gospel because I know we will be okay.

  Sobs and silence wrap around us as Bentley holds me, letting me get everything out. He doesn’t offer any more comforting promises or tell me it’s going to be okay. He simply uses his strong arms to keep me tight to him. When I grow numb from crying and my eyes are close to being swollen shut, Bentley picks me up.