by Roslyn Bane
“I can do that. Why not official time?”
“Major, I don’t want to discourage you. But I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told the others who have tried what you’re trying. It’s not easy. You won’t get the same feedback. Everything’s going to feel different. Let’s keep it unofficial. You can get a few practice runs, with no one looking over your shoulder and grading your performance.”
“Is this going to get you in trouble?”
“It hasn’t so far. I don’t expect it will now. Uncle Sam pays a lot of money for this contract on simulator time. Someone ought to be using it.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely. See you on Thursday, eighteen hundred.”
Sam reached out and shook his hand. “Thanks, Paul.”
***
Kris knocked on the door, balancing the pizza box in one hand and holding a bottle of wine and her bag in the other. She was getting ready to knock again when Sam opened the door.
“Come on in. Let me take that.” Sam took the pie from Kris and let her pass. “Sorry, I’m running late. I had to make a stop, and it threw me a little behind. Here, let me open that for you.” Sam reached into a drawer and found the corkscrew. As she opened the bottle, she gestured to a cabinet. “Plates are up there. Wine glasses are to your right above the toaster.”
Kris stood motionless. Sam’s hair was damp, and in disarray, with spikes and clumps. Her tank top clung to her damp skin and her breasts pressed against the tight fabric. Her nipples peaked against the material. Well-muscled arms bunched as she moved. A drop of water fell from her hair and slid down her chest heading for the space between her breasts. Kris felt her core grow warm and swallowed hard. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep from reaching out and capturing the droplet. Tell her now.
“Are you okay?”
Kris was aware of Sam watching her and felt her cheeks heat. “Um, yes. I need to tell you something.”
“Okay. Let’s eat though, I’m starved.” She filled a wine glass with chardonnay and handed it to Kris along with the bottle. “Go sit down.” Sam gathered the plates from the cabinet, added napkins and pulled a beer from the fridge. She sat down, “That smells great.”
“It does. It’s from that shop we went to. It’s Canadian bacon, jalapenos, and pineapple. You said you didn’t care what kind.”
“That’s right. I don’t know that I’ve had this combination before. It should be a sweet and spicy combination.”
“It is. How was your day?” Kris held her plate as Sam slid a slice onto it.
“Busy. I don’t know how people can do administrative stuff day after day, year after year. I’d run off into the night screaming and pulling my hair out.” Kris started to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“Your hair. It’s all messed up and looks like you did pull at it.”
Sam ran her hand through her hair trying to smooth it out. A single Alfalfa clump remained, and Kris reached over to smooth it down. Her fingers lingered for a second as the silky strands slid under her fingers. She pulled her hand back suddenly. What are you doing? Don’t play with her hair. “There, that’s better. Now you don’t look like that kid Alfalfa, from that old television show.”
“Gee thanks. That’s very reassuring to know I don’t look like a seven-year-old boy from the early nineteen thirties.” She pretended to pout and took a bite of the pie.
“I’m sorry. Please continue, how was your day?”
Sam finished chewing and wiped her mouth. “I went by the flight simulator building. I spoke with one of the contractors about getting some time in the sim to see how it goes. He can fit me in Thursday evening.”
“Oh, Sam, that’s good.”
“It is. It’ll allow me to see how well I can do with this thing.” Sam patted her leg and then picked up her slice. “This is a good combination. It has the right amount of kick.”
They continued to talk about their day as they ate. As they were cleaning up the few dishes, Sam’s phone rang. “I need to answer that. Afterward you can tell me what you wanted to talk about that had you looking so serious before.”
Kris paged absentmindedly through the newspaper and decided how she would tell Sam. Ten minutes later Sam emerged, her eyes red and shoulders slumped. Kris hurried over to her, “What’s wrong?”
“That was the wife of one of my men. I had called earlier to offer condolences and see if they needed anything. They’re really hurting. She was mad. She blamed me, she cried. After that she apologized. But she’s right.”
“No, she’s not. Sam, it wasn’t your fault. You were shot down. No one’s injuries were your fault. You did the best you could while under attack.” You can’t tell her. This is what Renee meant, that it won’t help her. “Come on let’s sit down and talk about it.”
“I’d rather not. Can you stay for a while? We can watch some television. I have no idea what’s on, but I’m sure we can find something. Or how about some cards? Do you play cards?”
“Oh yeah. Deal ‘em up, sister. I’m feeling lucky.”
Two hours later, Kris smiled and laid her cards down. “Rummy. That should make five hundred.”
“God dang it.” Sam laid her cards out. She was missing the ten which would have given her a straight. “Well, that was a good game.”
“It was.” Kris glanced up at the clock. Ten-thirty. “Oh, it’s getting late. I should get going.”
“You’re okay to drive?”
“Yes, I had two glasses of wine, but that was a couple hours ago. I’ve been drinking water. I’m good.” Kris picked up her bag and walked to the door. “I had a good time, thanks.”
“Me too.” They hugged each other before Kris left. As she walked to her car, she looked back and saw Sam smile and wave.
“Good luck Thursday.” Kris pressed a hand to her chest to still the pounding of her heart. God, she felt good.
“Thanks. Good night.” Sam watched as she drove away.
***
Sam tossed and turned in bed and finally sat up in frustration. She ran her hands through her hair and squeezed her head. “This is going to be hard.” I want her. I want to kiss her. I want to find out where that orange-ginger scent is strongest and nibble there. But she said friendship. That’s all she’s looking for. And that’s all I can handle. Probably. But I want more.
***
Over the next few weeks they saw each other frequently. They went out to dinner, took walks in the park, exercised at the gym together, and their friendship bloomed. Kris realized she was growing increasingly fond of Sam, who seemed to remain oblivious to her attraction. She remained troubled and indecisive on revealing to Sam their common history. Kris’ nightly dreams were vivid, bordering on the erotic. She awakened aroused and frustrated in the morning, which was considerably better than having flashbacks.
After dinner at Sam’s one evening, they were sitting outside enjoying the sunset. Sam was sipping a beer and Kris a glass of wine. “I had an interesting group therapy session today.”
“What happened?”
Sam tugged at her ear, “There was an Army guy in the group counseling session today. He lost both his legs at the thigh. He wanted his wife to divorce him. They’d been married ten years and have two kids. She wouldn’t do it though, no matter how poorly he behaved. He said she called him stubborn and stupid for thinking she should.”
“He was.”
“He said he did everything he could to push her away.”
“She’s a smart woman. She loves him.”
“But she married him when he was whole.”
“He’s still the man she loves.”
“I get that. They’ve got a stake in what they had. But for single people, how often do they find that? Someone who wants them despite their missing parts?”
“You mean who would want you?” Kris stood up and walked to the porch rail, glaring at Sam.
“Look at me. I am missing my leg. I have scars. I can’t do things.”
; “It doesn’t change who you are. You didn’t stop being strong. So what? You have scars. Lots of people have scars. Wouldn’t you date someone with scars?”
“Of course, I would. Renee said the right person would accept it. They wouldn’t have anything to get over.”
“I think you’re the one who can’t get over it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and you’ll see someone standing right in front of you, someone who’s hoping you’ll see how much she’s attracted to you.”
Kris’ words sank in as Sam looked up slowly, her eyes widening in surprise. “What? No, no you aren’t.”
“I am.”
Sam shook her head in disbelief.
“Who said I can’t be attracted to you?”
“But I don’t—”
“I already know that you don’t see me that way. And that’s hard. But don’t sell yourself short, Sam. There’s a lot of things about you to love. You’ll find the right person.” Kris walked inside.
Sam stood speechless, her thoughts racing as she followed Kris inside, “I didn’t realize…that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay.” Kris picked up her pack. “I’ve got some errands to do before I get home. I’ll see you later.”
“Kris wait—”
“Sorry, Sam. I have to go. I put the leftover chili in the fridge.”
Sam watched as Kris left, the door closing quietly behind her. Her mind raced as she stared at the door. She finally crossed to it, locked it, and sunk down into the rocking chair. She turned on the television and flipped through the channels for a few minutes before she shut it off and rocked. Kris was attracted to her? Wanted to be with her? How had she missed it? And more importantly, why would Kris want to be with her?
Chapter Thirty-eight
KRIS HEADED OVER TO Sam’s immediately after leaving the hospital. She knocked on the door several times without an answer. She glanced at her watch, knowing that Sam should be in. She knocked again before trying the door. It opened. “Sam? Are you in here?” She stood in the dark room, letting her eyes adjust. The blinds were drawn tight, and only a sliver of light came in around the edge. “Sam?” She heard movement from across the room.
“I’m here.”
It didn’t sound like Sam. It was nasally, and she heard her clear her throat several times.
“What are you doing in the dark? Let me turn on a light.”
“No! I want it dark.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened. I don’t feel well. I left a message for you. I don’t feel like going out tonight.”
“I got the message. I know I’ve been avoiding you since I spilled my guts the other night. I didn’t mean to hurt you by staying away. I’m sorry. I still want to be your friend. Something is wrong. I can hear it in your voice. Turn on the light. I’m not leaving until I see you.”
Sam sighed, and a light came on. Kris walked across the room and saw Sam icing her stump. Several empty beer bottles sat on the floor nearby. Kris sat on the ottoman in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
Sam turned her face slightly away from her. “Sam?” She reached out, and with a gentle hand turned Sam’s face back toward her, her breath hissed as she saw Sam’s bruised and swollen cheek. “What happened?”
“I fell.”
“You fell? Did you put ice on it?”
“Yes.”
Sam pulled back, and Kris reached out again. “Let me see.”
“I don’t need your help! I’m a grown woman,” Sam snapped.
Kris jerked back with the admonishment. “I realize that.” She looked closely at Sam and saw her eyes were red. “Please tell me what happened. If you don’t want to talk as friends, at least tell me as a doctor so I can make sure you’re all right.”
“I was seen at the clinic. I’m okay.”
“Well, at least you let someone look at you,” Kris said with a frown.
“Well, you don’t always get a choice on who sees you. Now I do.”
“What do you mean?” Her gut clenched. Did Sam know? Had she somehow found out? I should say something, now.
“After I fell I had to go to the clinic and be evaluated. I wasted an hour to be told I had bruises.”
“How did you fall? There should have been someone working with you. What were you doing?”
“I started doing stairs with the new prosthesis. It didn’t go well.”
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t control it. It felt different. I fell. Several times.” The frustration was evident in Sam’s tone.
Kris started to speak, but stopped, knowing Sam was proud. She was herself. To fail in front of someone would be hard for anyone. To have fallen in therapy in front of people would have been humbling. “Okay, Sam. I understand where you’re coming from. Please let me help you now. Can I bring you some ice for your cheek? It will help with the bruising.”
“Okay,” Sam whispered.
Kris returned a minute later with the ice, and when handing it to Sam she saw bruised knuckles, she started to say something but remained silent. Sam placed the ice against her cheek.
“Do you mind if I get something to drink? I’m thirsty,” Kris asked.
“Sure go ahead.”
“Do you want anything while I’m up?”
Sam looked at her, furrowing her brows, “Sure I’ll take some water.”
After placing the water on the table in front of Sam, Kris sat down. “I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer truthfully. What did you punch with your hand? And does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt. My fingers move fine. Don’t worry about it.” Sam flexed her fingers and avoided eye contact.
Kris took a deep breath, “Can I ask you one more thing? I hope you don’t bite my head off, but I’m not leaving until you answer me. Did you eat dinner? You’ve had a few beers, and I wouldn’t want you to pass out and fall again. You don’t seem like you’re in the mood for company, and I don’t blame you. I want to make sure you’ll be all right before I go. Will you call me if you need something? Or want to talk?”
Sam spoke quickly. “Don’t go. I’ll make you something to eat. Don’t you say no. You’ll piss me off.” She picked up her crutches and walked over to the kitchen. She looked in the fridge, and scowled. “Hmm, I don’t have much for dinner. How about some BLT’s?”
“With real bacon?” Kris asked with a hint of a smile starting to curve at the corners of her mouth.
“Of course. And don’t give me a doctor lecture that bacon is bad for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. A BLT sounds good. I’ll set the table while you cook.”
“That sounds fair.”
As Kris set the table, she watched as Sam moved around the kitchen, using the crutches, leaning on one while she cooked. She wanted to help and could get it done faster so Sam could rest. It was evident she was exhausted. She understood that Sam was frustrated and needed to do things herself, to regain her confidence, since finally getting out on her own again. Several of the marines that had arrived at the same time she did had left several weeks ago to return to their homes, but they had a family to help them. She couldn’t force Sam to take her assistance.
It didn’t take long until the sandwiches were ready. As they sat down to eat, Sam spoke in a voice tinged with regret, “I’m sorry for snapping at you before. I know you were trying to help. I get so frustrated. I want to do things the way I did before, and it’s not possible. It won’t be for a long time. There are some things I probably won’t ever do again.”
“Name one.”
“I like to play basketball. I won’t do that again. I enjoy scuba diving.”
Kris stared into Sam’s sea green eyes. Tell her now. “Sam, I need to tell you something.” Sam’s phone started to ring, as she reached over and grabbed it off the counter, Kris walked away to give her some privacy. She opened the curtains slightly to look out. Tell her. Explain what happened.
&n
bsp; She heard Sam end the call. “Sorry for the interruption, that was the therapist checking to make sure I was okay. She was upset today.”
“I imagine so. You shouldn’t have fallen. They should have been there for you.”
“They were. I slipped,” Sam said with frustration.
“That’s no excuse. Part of their job is to anticipate—”
“Hey. I appreciate the concern, but it’s okay.”
”No, it’s not. You could have been seriously hurt.”
“Well, I believe their department head took a big chunk out of their asses today, so that will have to be enough. I’m still hungry. Do you want another sandwich?”
“I’ll split one with you.”
“Okay.” Sam returned to the kitchen, and while the bacon cooked she said, “You know what I miss the most? The time.” Sam tapped at her watch.
“The time?”
Sam flipped the bacon over and took a quick glance at Kris. “Yes. It takes so much longer to do everything. Especially when I’m on the crutches. Setting the table, cooking. Everything is slow. Without the crutches, I feel like I have to watch every foot placement.”
“You’ll get there.”
“I hope so. I want to get back to normal. Even as I say that I know I won’t but—”
“Stop it. Turn that burner off. Come here.” Kris strode out of the kitchen.
Sam shook her head, turned off the burner and followed Kris down the hall, wondering where she was going? She followed Kris into the bathroom. “What?”
“Look at yourself and tell me what you see,” Kris demanded.
Sam looked at herself for a split second. “Just me. On crutches…minus my leg.”
“No. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
Sam looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were pale and drawn, a bruise was forming on her cheekbone. Dark smudges under eyes still pink from her earlier crying jag. She shook her head. “I don’t like this.”
“Too bad, Major.”
Sam hung her head, as a dull ache formed in her stomach. Her voice hitched, “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? Isn’t that who you are?”
