by Joe Cassilly
“I gotta get down and see Sam. He is going to work with me on something.” I rolled away. I went back towards my bed and put the letters and stuff in my locker. On the way out, I came upon Joe White outside the ward doctor’s office, knocking on the door.
“Jake, I need your help.”
“What’s up?”
“That son-of-a-bitch doctor is in there, but he won’t answer the door and I need him to sign this so I can get some supplies from the pharmacy to go home for a week,” he said in a low voice.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go down and ask Ben to ask to see the nurse—he knows the routine. Then, when she goes to Ben, you go into the nurses station and dial 5575, that’s his office number.”
“What do I say when he answers?”
“Don’t worry, he won’t answer.”
I pushed down to Ben. “Joe White sent me to ask you to call the nurse.”
Ben grinned. “They gonna have you call the doctor’s office?”
“Yeah, have they done this before?”
“Every time they want to flush him out.”
I went back to the nurses’ station. The short nurse was on duty. “Ben asked me to ask you to come see him. I don’t think he looks too good.” She gave me a suspicious look and then got up from behind her desk and went down the ward. I reached across the desk and lifted the receiver. I had trouble using my finger in the dial so I used my thumb. I heard the ring. I looked down the hall to where Joe and two other guys in wheelchairs were sitting. By the third ring, the door to the doctor’s office opened and the doctor walked out to be immediately boxed in by wheelchairs. I hung up just as the short nurse was coming back up the ward.
When she reached me, she said, “What were you doing on that phone?”
“It rang and I figured I’d help out, ’cause you were busy, but I guess they thought they had a wrong number ’cause they hung up.”
“Well it is a good thing I went to check on Ben. He’s running a fever of 103.” She walked down and got the doctor just as he finished signing Joe’s papers and brought him back to see Ben. I headed down to Sam. I stood up for about fifteen minutes and lifted weights for a few minutes, but I had something else I wanted to do that afternoon.
Later, I pushed to the counselor’s office. He gave me a book of wheelchair accessible colleges and I looked up the University of Arizona. “Can I come over and use your electric typewriter some afternoon?” I asked him. “I would like to write to some of these colleges.”
“Sure,” he replied, “the afternoons are good. A lot of the times, I am out of the office anyway, so just let yourself in. Here’s some paper and envelopes. You can leave the letters on the desk and I’ll mail them for you.”
I had to arrange for insurance for the car so I rolled to the public phones and flipped the yellow pages open to the insurance section. I called a couple of the big companies whose ads said they covered everyone. Once I told them I was in a wheelchair, though, they told me that company policy would not let them sell me insurance. “Wait a minute,” I tried to explain to the third agent I called. “I’ve never had an accident. I was licensed to drive tractor-trailers in the Army, but you’re telling me that, because I’m in a wheelchair, you can discriminate without a reason.”
“Look, mister,” he said defensively, “I’ve got nothing to do with the decision. Some guy at the head office says I can’t sell you insurance. I’m sorry if you don’t think it’s fair, but there isn’t a thing I can do about it.”
Joe White gave me the number of his insurance agent.
24
Left Behind
During the next week, the hospital grew quiet. Joe White and a number of other guys went home for Easter. The students were on spring break. I was very worried about Ben. They had discovered he had pneumonia.
The weather finally turned sunny after a rainy Palm Sunday weekend. I started going for a push outside after Sam was finished with me or after dinner. It was so good for the spirit, the green buds on the trees, the birds and squirrels. When Good Friday arrived, the hospital was deserted. Most of the employees were off. That morning, the nurse told me that I no longer had to wear a collar. Another mile pebble, I thought. There was no therapy that day so I hung around the mess hall after breakfast, having another coffee and working the crossword puzzle, in ink, because I had trouble with a pencil. Before lunch, I pushed back to the ward. I wrote a letter to Sheila, asking for a university catalog and admissions material and for her to please write again.
I heard one of the guys tell another patient to look at something so I looked up. Cathy was walking toward me. I could not believe that I had forgotten that she was coming that day. I felt as though my smile would split my face in two. She was wearing a floral print dress and white heels. It had been six weeks since I had seen her and she was even prettier. All the guys on the ward had stopped what they were doing and were watching her.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
“For that, I’ll go out and come in again.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you. You walk up and down that aisle again and some of these guys will go blind from the strain of staring.” She blushed. I liked that. It was pretty framed by her long blond hair.
She sat on the edge of the bed. “What would you like to do? We don’t want to hang around here all day,” she said.
“Come on,” I motioned. “I want to introduce you to someone, take you to see my latest trick, and show you my birthday present.” We went down the aisle, crossed the hall and into the other side of the ward. I took her down to Ben’s bed. Ben looked worse. There was an I.V. drip into his arm and oxygen going through a tube to his nose. I rolled up beside him and called softly, “Ben, you awake?”
Ben’s eyes opened and he spoke weakly. “Hey, buddy.”
“Ben, I got someone here I want you to meet.”
Ben looked passed me and smiled. “Is that your Easter bunny?”
“This is Cathy,” I answered.
“Hi Cathy,” he tried to speak a little louder, but his voice was hoarse and he had to take a deep breath. “You scared me,” he said to her. “I thought Jesus sent an angel to take me home.”
“Hi Ben,” her voice said with tenderness. She stepped up on the other side of the bed. She lifted his hand and shook it. “Can I get you anything?”
“I need a drink.” I picked up his water pitcher and held it towards his face. Cathy slid her hand under his head and lifted it and guided the straw between his lips with the other hand. When he had taken several deep swallows, she laid him back. Ben smiled faintly. “So, boy, this the girl you told me you’re gonna marry?”
“Ben, I never told you that,” I said feeling flustered. “I never told him that,” I said to Cathy.
“How many girls named Cathy you engaged to, boy?” I think being ornery was medicine for Ben’s soul; the twinkle was back in his eyes and Cathy was enjoying Ben’s sense of humor. “You take good care of this boy now, Miss Cathy. He’s a virgin and he won’t know how to treat a real woman like you.’
“Ben, you old bastard, you see if I ever bring any women down here again.” Ben took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The effort of teasing had left him exhausted. Cathy looked at his I.V. and pulled his sleeve up to see where the needle went into his arm.
“Jake, buddy, I’m awful tired,” he whispered.
“No problem. Get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.” As we walked passed the nurses’ station, Cathy spoke to the nurse behind the desk. Ben’s drip had run out and he had blood backing into his I.V. tube. The nurse headed for Ben’s bed.
“Come on, I want to show you my trick.” She followed me down the hall to the empty therapy room. I went over to the stand-up frame. I fit my feet into the bottom of the frame and put my knees against the padded board. I got my arms over a strap at waist height. I pulled myself forward and up so that my legs straightened and my butt came up. I was still bent forward at the waist. “Take the other strap around
behind me and hook it to the other side of the frame,” I said. When that was done, I tried to straighten up, but my stomach muscles would not relax. “Do me a favor, please,” I grunted. “Put your hands on my shoulders and push me up.” She walked around to the front and ducked into the frame with me. She got a hand on each shoulder and we pushed together. “Wheew,” I sighed.
She looked into my eyes. “I didn’t realize how tall you are,” she said. She reached up and smoothed down my hair. “You have a part in your hair. I can’t get over how far you’ve come.” She suddenly stepped forward and hugged me tightly. I almost lost my balance and went over backward, but I recovered. We were looking at each other. I wondered if she would let me.
I had to hold onto the frame with one hand to keep my balance, but I chanced letting go with the other and put it around Cathy. I was hugging her, but I was also using her for balance. Under the circumstances, it was not graceful, but I kissed her. Then, before I bent forward again, I let go of her and pushed against the frame. She brushed her hand softly across my cheek. “Hey Ranger, do you think you can just start kissing every woman who comes to visit you?”
I looked puzzled. “Don’t think Suzie and I don’t compare notes,” she said.
I blushed. “What did she tell you?”
“She told me about going shopping with you.”
“And that’s all?”
“She told me not to let you get me into a motel room.” The tone of her voice changed. “And she said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Damn,” I thought. I hadn’t any idea what I was going to say, so I said the first thing I could think of. “Just hug me. Please?” She stepped close to me and laid her head on my chest. I inhaled her fragrance, feeling it fill my head. I slid my hands up her back, pulled her close, and brushed my cheek against her hair. Then, for an instant, I saw death; I smelled its smell and heard its sounds. I knew what I wanted to say.
“I didn’t know that you had to go into the Army when you graduated from nursing school.”
“Yes, I’m hoping you could come to my graduation if you’re up to it.”
“Yeah, I’d like to do that. Where are you going to be stationed?”
She pulled back from me, tilted her head, and looked up at me. “Are we about to talk about Vietnam?” Then, she stood on tiptoe and looked me straight in the eye. “Did Suzie put you up to this?” When I hung my head and looked guilty, she didn’t wait for more of an answer. “Jake, I love Suzie. I have three brothers, but I never had a sister until her. But she’s got to realize that we are all different. I don’t know if what bothered her will upset me, but I think I could be a good nurse.”
“I know you’re going to be a good nurse. I could see that at Walter Reed and with Ben just now.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “All I know was that I saw men dissolved by death. I laid there and looked into the dead eyes of a friend. I was a good soldier, Ranger, trained to kill and be tough about it, but I’ll never be the same. As long as I live, there will be memories, dreams, and anguish. You’re so sweet and innocent. Neither Suzie nor I want to see you scarred like us.” Suddenly, I thought of Bibi trying unsuccessfully to talk me out of going and I knew I wasn’t doing any better with Cathy.
“Jake, who do you remember after you got hurt and got to the hospital in Nam?”
I thought for a second. “The nurses,” I answered.
“And suppose they hadn’t been there?”
“I would have been miserable.”
She reached up and wiped some moisture from the corner of my eye and said, “I’ll be okay, just promise to write me when I get there.”
“Promise.”
“I know it upsets Suzie to think about me going to Vietnam, but a lot of that has to do with trying to sort out her own feelings. She’s pretty mixed up about Vietnam, nursing, marriage, divorce and…” She paused and put her finger in my chest. “…And you. I don’t know what to do for her.”
“What do you mean she doesn’t know how to feel about me?”
Cathy smiled. “I guess she hasn’t given you the ‘I hate those lying, heart-breaking bastards’ speech. She’s very bitter about your gender, but I think she’s falling in love with you.” She pouted and had a mock tone of reproach. “Jake, she’s five years older than you.”
“Is that a reason not to love her?”
“I just think that there is a lot more in your relationship with her than being friends or lovers.”
“Like what?”
“Like being a patient and a therapist. There’s something in psychiatry called ‘transference.’ They say nurses should not fall in love with patients.”
“But I’m not her patient.”
“I’m not sure both of you aren’t patients.”
“How do you feel about me?”
“I love you as a friend, but I don’t need you. I see the same things in you that Suzie sees. I love your guts and determination, your specialness.” She stopped and looked out of the window.
“Go ahead,” I urged her.
“Suzie uses you as a drug to kill her pain. She can’t see it. Maybe when she has had enough medicine, she’ll get better, or she could become addicted, but that won’t be love.”
I began to feel light-headed. “I have to sit down.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Actually, you haven’t told me anything I haven’t already suspected, believe it or not. I just think we’re making each other feel better and there’s no harm in that. This place might make my body better, but I need her and you for my self-image and spirit. You’re a reason to keep trying.”
“That’s what I am, huh, a carrot?” She stepped back so I could lower myself into the chair. The mood changed and she asked, “Do you want to take a drive?”
“Yeah, I have something to show you.” We went outside. She was driving a pick-up truck. “Where’d you get that?”
“It’s my dad’s. He let me bring it to school so I could start moving some of my things home this weekend. I only have another month until exams are over.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out a loop of strap attached to a metal hook, the latest cripple tool that I had been given. “This is to help me transfer into cars. Here.” I handed it to Cathy. “You put the hook into the rain gutter of the truck.” After she had it hooked on, I rolled beside the truck, put my right arm through the loop, and flexed my hand down. Then, I pulled up with that arm as I pushed down on the truck seat. I got my butt up to the truck seat when suddenly my legs stiffened and started spasming. It was taking all my strength to hold me where I was. “Help,” I gasped. Cathy put her arms under my knees and lifted my legs and shoved my butt onto the seat. I sat blowing breaths. “On the return trip, just throw me up in the bed of the truck.”
She threw the chair in the back and I directed her to the Pontiac dealer. The car had been moved to a side lot. “What do you think of the dark blue one?”
“It’s nice.”
“I bought it for a birthday present.”
“You’re kidding,” she said with a look of doubt.
“Nope.”
“Why didn’t you buy the red convertible?”
“There is no pleasing some women. Now you probably regret telling me you didn’t need me.”
“You goof.” She got out and went over and looked through the windows. “It’s very nice. Do you think you’ll be able to drive it to my graduation?”
“When is it?”
“May twenty-seventh.”
“If I can escape, I’ll be there. Do me a favor, don’t tell Suzie about it. I want to surprise her.” We drove around Richmond and stopped for a late lunch. Cathy parked beside the curb, which put the wheelchair on the same height as the truck seat. It made getting out easy. Just before I ordered a cheeseburger, my Catholic conscience reminded me not to eat meat on Good Friday. “I’ll have a tuna salad on toast and an iced tea.” I said to the waitress. Cathy followed with “I’ll have the same.”
I looked across the table. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”
“I’m not.” She smiled. “I just like tuna salad.”
After lunch, we parked down by the James River and watched the daffodils and blossoms on the trees. She slid across the seat and wrapped her arm around mine and laid her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for coming to see me,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied.
“Darling, if it weren’t for you and Suzie, the only company I would have had for the past three months would have been the guys that come in from the local veterans groups and Ben.”
“But I want to come,” she whispered hoarsely. “I do love you.” I could not see them, but I knew there were tears on her cheeks. “If I didn’t think this was the last Easter I’ll spend with my family for a couple of years, maybe…” She paused. She put her hand on mine. “I might get that motel room Suzie said to stay away from and stay with you.” She squeezed my arm.
“It’s okay. My mom wrote and told me she would be down for Easter.” Unfortunately, I didn’t believe it. I slid forward on the seat so I could look at her. “Are you scared, of Vietnam I mean?”
“You and Suzie have done a pretty good job making me have doubts.”
“Sweetheart, I went through the same feelings before I shipped out. And I went anyway and look how I turned out,” I said with a touch of irony and a smile.
She looked and fluttered her eyelashes through her tears. “Oh, yeah, try and cheer me up.”
“Hey, you’re made of good stuff. You’ll be fine.” When we got back to the hospital, I got down into the chair. I backed up and she moved to close the door. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her into my lap. We both held the other tightly. Then, she put her mouth on mine so gently and we held the kiss with our lips just brushing. She patted my shoulder and got into the truck and started it up. I pushed to the hospital door and turned to wave, but I only saw the dust. I went through the doors and saw that a couple of orderlies were rolling a bed out of the ward.
