The Flight of Hope

by HJ Bellus

  Of all things that make me throw up on command, fish and cheese are instant triggers. My fishing pole has been put up for some time now coupled with Papa Wally’s death over eight months ago and now the threat of puking.

  Thinking of Papa causes tears to spring to my eyes. I brush them away, refusing to let them fall. We all saw it coming and were at his side when he took his dying breath, but it doesn’t make it any damn easier. Thank God, Bentley was still here by my side.

  “Don’t cry,” Mom whispers in my ear.

  I’d tell her it’s not what she thinks, but then I’d have no control over the tears. We’ve spent hours holding each other missing his presence. Man, to see his reaction when and if I get to announce I’m pregnant would have been priceless. He was always my biggest fan.

  The door leading back to the doctor’s office swings open, causing me to tense up. “Marlee Foster.”

  Mom is up and out of her seat before I even move. She drags me up and leads me to the nurse. It’s like the days when she’d have to pull me back for immunizations. So many different emotions are racing through me as I get all checked in and pee on a stick. I remember Bentley’s words that he tells me all the time…there’s no such thing as a broken heart.

  The paper crinkles as I take a seat and wait for the doctor. I tug up the blanket covering my naked lower half and fidget with the shoulders of the gown. “I’m happy, Mom.”

  She looks up at me with a questioning stare.

  “I’m so damn happy right now. I want Bentley here so bad, but if this is our time… I’m not even scared to be happy this time.” I beam at her.

  “About damn time. This is your time; I know it. You’re such an amazing woman, Marlee. I mean, a pain in my ass, but an amazing one.”

  “You love me.”

  “If it’s a girl, I’m dressing the shit out of her in pink, tutus, and any other frilly shit.”

  I shake my head. “No, we will let her decide what she likes.”

  “Bullshit! I carried you for nine months, pushed you out, changed your shitty diapers, and I swear you refused to wear pink from the moment you were born.”

  The door opens before I have a chance to respond. I can see I’ll be on the anti-pink campaign for a while with her. Hell, I love flipping her shit. Bentley and I will raise our baby like our parents raised us to be respectful and allow them the room to make their own choices.

  “Marlee, I’m Dr. Kinsley Hilton.” She extends her hand.

  One, I’m surprised the doctor is female and immediately feel comfortable with her. Two, she’s beautiful with pinned back raven hair and pronounced features that would intimidate me in any other circumstance, but not here.

  “Hi.” I take her hand, shaking it, my voice shaky and trembling. “Guess you already know who I am.”

  “Yes.” Her warm smile comforts me even more as she grabs the rolling stool from under the counter. “We are going to become quite good friends over this pregnancy. I’m going to read over your notes, and we will see how far along you are.”

  She props her laptop on her lap, reading through some medical charts. “Looks like your first pregnancy, Marlee?”

  I fill her in on the entire backstory which she’s more than likely already read in my medical notes.

  She peers up from her laptop. “This is more common than you think, Marlee. Most women in your same shoes don’t talk about it much because it’s so painful.”

  “I can relate to that.” My fingers begin fidgeting again.

  “I’m guessing this is mom?” Dr. Hilton stands to shake Mom’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  On cue, I blurt out. “I’m married. My husband is deployed in Afghanistan.”

  “I see.” She pulls out an extension to the table, easing me on my back. “There are several support groups in our area for women in your circumstance. I’ll send you home with the information.”

  I dig my fingertips into the paper on the table. The sound of the crinkle and crunch is much louder than I expected, echoing around the room, flaring my nerves to an all-time high. My happiness is quickly morphing into trepidation.

  “Just relax, sweetie.” Her hands roam over my abdomen. “Since you’ve missed two periods, I want to do a vaginal ultrasound to determine how far along you are. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but you’ll get to see your little peanut. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect,” I croak out. The well of tears that have been building up begin to spill. “Mom.”

  She’s at my side, holding my hand, brushing away the hair on my forehead. “I’m here, Birdie.”

  “I want Bentley here,” I whisper, choking on each word.

  “I know. I know.” She squeezes my hand. “Your dad missed your birth due to his deployment. Papa Wally was there the whole time holding my hand. I remember wanting your dad so bad.”

  She tells me the same story she’s told me several times. It eases my nerves. My mom did this, so can I. Dr. Hilton joins in on the conversation, offering up her encouragement intermingled with what’s about to go down. It’s similar to a coffee date with girlfriends except me lying on the table, legs spread, and yeah, nothing like a coffee date except the way they make me feel.

  “A bit of a cold sensation, shouldn’t be uncomfortable. Let me know if it is.”

  The lights have dimmed in the room, and I sense the nurse in the background, but can only stare at the fuzzy screen in front of me. She’s right, it’s cold, but not uncomfortable. Swirls of gray, white, and black fill the screen. There’s movement, but nothing identifiable. It feels like an eternity before Dr. Hilton speaks again.

  “And there’s your baby.” She reaches over with her free hand, freezing the frame and dragging lines over the object. “Strong and steady heartbeat. Let’s see here.”

  A silent pause cracks through the room. I grow numb as I stare at my baby with Dr. Hilton’s words on repeat. A vigorous and steady heartbeat. It’s all happening so damn fast, and it’s real.

  “Hope,” I whisper. “There’s hope.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, picturing Bentley and growing excited to share the news with him. The next phone call will be the best we ever have.

  “Okay, you’re measuring around eleven weeks pregnant, Marlee.”

  I gasp. “That’s almost three months.”

  “Yes.” The cold sensation vanishes. Dr. Hilton rolls back on her stool, pulling her gloves off, and is by my other side, grabbing my hand. “There’s no way ever to promise everything is going to be perfect, but, Marlee, you’re pregnant, and everything looks perfect. It’s time to embrace and enjoy it.”

  “Thank you.” I squeeze her hand with all I have. “Thank you so much.”

  At this moment, I know I’ll get through this with the support team I have. I’m determined to take her advice to the fullest.

  “When can we find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Mom asks. “It’s been way too long since I had Marlee that I can’t remember.”

  “Typically between sixteen and twenty weeks, we will do an ultrasound. It will be up to the mom and dad if they want to find out the gender of their baby.”

  “Oh, they do,” Mom replies, answering for me.

  “The keywords were mom and dad,” Dr. Hilton replies with humor lacing her words.

  “We do want to find out,” I answer with confidence. Bentley and I have never been known for our patience.

  We set the next appointment, go over insurance and all the cost before leaving the office. As Mom and I walk down the hallway, my steps are light like floating on a cloud.

  “Marlee.”

  I turn back to see Dr. Hilton, leaning on the entrance to another room. “Congratulations and enjoy the ride.”

  “Thank you.” The grin on my face is contagious and downright ridiculous. Cue the happy girl moment.

  Days turn into weeks, drifting by with no call from Bentley. I’ve begged and pleaded with Dad, but all he does is reassure my raging anxiety. The weekly care packages ha
ve been sent every Monday with the letters to Bentley.

  With my feet kicked up on our coffee table, I laugh at Guy who loves to lick my baby bump. It’s become his favorite resting place over the last weeks. He knows he’s going to be a big brother. I chalk it up to his dog instincts and not the big brother sweater I bought him for the holiday season.

  “This one is my favorite.” Mom settles next to Dad on the loveseat with a large bowl of popcorn.

  “You say that every year.” Dad rolls his eyes, rubbing his tightly clipped salt and pepper hair.

  Every night is much the same. They made sure the holiday season was as normal as could be. Considering we’re missing two significant men, it’s been damn near impossible. Even though it’s two days past Christmas morning, Bentley’s presents remain wrapped underneath our tree.

  My parents are worried about me. I’ve done my best to conceal my fear, but I guess they see right through it. It’s been two months with no word from Bentley. Dad acts funny around me or at least that’s what my wild imagination thinks.

  The ultrasound to find out the gender of the baby came and passed. I had to put the sealed envelope in the safe to keep Mom from it. She’s about to stroke out over the fact I won’t let her peek at it. That envelope will not be opened until I’m on the phone with my husband.

  I feed Guy one piece of popcorn and then stuff my mouth with a handful. Mom’s popcorn is the best. She always dumps a large box of peanut M&M’s to the mix. I make myself sick on the combination every single time, pregnant or not. The morning sickness finally faded, and my appetite is in full force.

  The doorbell chimes throughout the house. I look down at my cell phone, seeing it’s well past nine.

  “You expecting someone?” Dad asks, standing up.

  I shake my head.

  “Probably a desperate salesman,” he replies.

  “Damn desperate at this time,” I add.

  I follow Dad to the front door and when he swings it open, my world crumbles. A Causality Notification Officer. Everything is a blur, leaving me unable to process a single word. Mom’s arms wrap around me, pulling me to her chest. Dad takes the conversation outside. His voice is booming with wrath, shaking the inside of my house. He’s outside for a few minutes but it feels like an eternity in a fiery hell.

  Dad steps back in, slamming the door. “He’s alive. There’s been an accident, but Bentley is alive just injured.”

  Dad paces around the room, his arms roped with tension, and veins throbbing in his neck. His words soak into my brain, and I collapse in Mom’s arms sobbing.

  “Birdie.” Dad pulls both of us into his arms. “It was out of respect. They knew I was here and have been demanding information on his whereabouts and the exact location of his squad. He’s okay and coming home.”

  My body trembles with no hope of stopping. My parents hold me tight until I’m able to control my breathing and the shuddering ceases. They guide me back to the couch.

  “It was a roadside bombing. Men were killed during it. His brothers, but Bentley is injured.”

  “How bad?” Mom asks.

  “We don’t know. He’s in transit on his way out of Afghanistan.”

  14

  “Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you.” -Loretta Young

  My voice trembles as I answer my cell phone. Unknown number.

  “Hello.”

  “My wife. Birdie.” Bentley’s voice is scratchy, but the sincere, familiar timbre soothes away my fears.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Bentley!”

  “Yeah, baby girl, it’s me.”

  “Oh my God,” I cry. Mom and Dad race into my bedroom.

  “Calm down, sweetie. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  The inflection in his voice tells me another story.

  “I love you.” It’s the only three words that I want to repeat over and over again.

  “Marlee.” His voice cracks and there’s some beeping in the background. “I miss you.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Hospital in Germany.”

  “Are you okay?”

  A pungent pause fills the line. The bed dips on either side of me. Dad takes my free hand and Mom places her hand on the top of my thigh. My hand clutching the phone begins to shake to a point I can barely hold it. Dad takes it from my hands, lays it in my lap, and pushes the speakerphone.

  “He was my friend.”

  “Who?”

  “Sam. We’d been training soldiers. He was my favorite. Young and so full of life. His name was too damn hard to pronounce, so I called him Sam. He loved Snickers and other snacks you sent. He made himself sick on them to the point of puking.

  “We were out on a sweep through of town…” Bentley’s voice cracks and sobs fill the other end.

  “Baby, you don’t have to.”

  “There was a bombing, and Sam was hit the hardest. I went to him, held him, and tried to get him back to safety. He was so hurt. The gurgles and smell of searing skin I’ll never forget.”

  Dad squeezes my hand, dropping his head.

  “He died in my arms, Marlee. Took his last breath. He told me to go home to my sexy woman and thanked me. It was Christmas morning.”

  I slap my hand over my mouth, aching and hurting for him. I want nothing more than to hold him, run my hand over his hair, and kiss away the pain.

  “Son, it’s Jones.”

  Dad begins talking to Bentley. His voice echoing around our bedroom feels right as rain through the turmoil. I focus on him being alive and coming home. I don’t feel selfish at all over that fact. Dad gets Bentley to share about his condition and his orders to come home. It will take a week or so before he arrives in the States. He suffered a laceration to his neck and second-degree burns on his torso.

  God had his arms around my man, keeping him safe. Without thought, my hands go to my protruding belly, rubbing light circles. It catches Dad’s attention, and he gestures to me. I shake my head. I want more than anything to tell Bentley he’s going to be a daddy, but it’s not the right time.

  “Sir, can I talk to Marlee?”

  “Yes, son. Can’t wait until you get home. We love you. Call your parents.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dad takes the phone off speaker and hands me the phone. I’m able to hold onto it. Dad leaves the room and I know damn well he’s going to call Bentley’s mom. My mom helps me lay down in my bed, tucking me in. She flips on the lamp, turns off the bedroom lights, closes the door giving me privacy.

  Guy leaps up on the bed. He hears Bentley’s voice and begins whining, getting as close to the phone as possible. Bentley’s hearty chuckle fills the line, sending excitement throughout me from head to toe. It’s the first sign that everything is going to be okay.

  “Is that my boy?”

  “Sure is. Talk to him.” I hold the phone out to Guy.

  Bentley begins his doggy talk with him. Guy’s tail is out of control as he throws his head up in the air, barking. I laugh. Bentley laughs.

  “My turn.” I bring the phone back to my ear. Guy circles around on the bed several times until he settles down, his head propped on my belly like he’s showing his daddy he’s taking care of me and his soon to be sibling. I smile again and, damn, it feels so amazing.

  “Sorry for breaking like that.”

  “Bentley, stop. You’ve always protected me from the stuff you’ve experienced. It’s the way you cope, but I’m here and always will be. I want to know everything and anything you need to lay on me.”

  “Fuck, I miss you. Tell me everything. Did you can this year with your mom? Did she make her potato casserole for Thanksgiving and Christmas? How’s the fishing?”

  I do what he asks, telling him everything, not leaving out a single detail except for the fact he’s going to be a daddy. We talk and talk until his voice begins to fade off after a nurse interrupted us, giving him pain pills. I don’t stop talking. Soon his rhythmic breathing fills the line, and he d
oesn’t answer back. I stay up for hours, listening to it until the phone call disconnects.

  15

  “True love stories never have endings.” -Richard Bach

  I’ve never denied it. I’m a brat. Spoiled rotten, always getting my way. Some things never do change. I wait for the soldiers to exit the plane, standing in the front row. Our parents are not far away at our house, preparing Bentley’s favorite meal for his homecoming. They gave me this.

  Families are scattered everywhere. Posters, balloons, little kids on their uncles’ and dads’ shoulders, all eagerly await the arrival of their loved ones.

  The plane landed a few minutes ago. I keep my hands clutched over my stomach, unable to mask my excitement. Our little one is feeling the same way, spinning and rolling around excited to hear her or his daddy’s voice.

  Soldier after soldier exit the plane. Families surround me in a happy homecoming. I don’t recognize any of the soldiers. My impatience grows by leaps and bounds as each one steps from the plane back on US soil. The elation and gratitude is so profound and thick it’s intoxicating. The sun high and bright shining overhead forces me to shade my eyes.

  Then it happens. My husband steps from the plane. One bandage covers the side of his neck. His stride is full of grace and powerful as it always has been. Not one single piece of evidence that he’s endured the darkest hours of his life. I wave like a lunatic. He doesn’t see me through all the joyous chaos.

  I cup my hands around my mouth and shout his name. His head whips up in my direction. I break through the crowd as his pace picks up. Tears, the happiest of happy tears, roll down my face. My home and world is here running toward me. I jump into his arms, not considerate of his condition at all.

  We both ramble between stolen kisses. My hands roam over his face, relishing in the familiar lines. His hands move on my ass, keeping me clutched to his chest.

  “Marlee.” He tries to peer down at us.

  “I love you. God, I love you. I’m never letting go of you again.”

  “Marlee.” He looks back down. I’m juggled around in his arms, and I giggle. With caution, I climb down his body until my feet are safe on the ground and step back. Bentley drinks me in as if I’m a chilled glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day. His eyes grow wide. He wipes his hands over his eyes a few times before blinking to realization.