by Tif Marcelo
“Yoo-hoo.” A different woman’s voice, now with knocking.
She glanced at Shadow and rolled her eyes. There were only two women she kept in touch with besides her mother.
She looked down at her disheveled pajamas. Touched the messy bun on her head.
Nope.
There was no way she was letting anyone in. She shuffled to the door and leaned closer to it. “She’s not in.”
Cackles ensued on the other side of the wood.
“For cryin’ out loud, Regina! We heard Elvis Costello coming up the stairs. That last song in Notting Hill is iconic,” Adelaide declared. “Open the dang door.”
Regina growled. She even stomped her foot. Yes, she liked these women and she’d allowed them to get a little close, but that didn’t mean they could just show up anytime. Then again, combined, Adelaide and Sophie could outlast the deployment itself; there would be no use fighting it. So, Regina opened the door wide and without looking at the women gestured them in.
Adelaide stepped in first, followed by Sophie. Both smelled good, which meant that Regina probably didn’t. But she held on to her pride and crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s dark in here.” Sophie flipped on the lights.
“Hey!” Regina squinted against the brightness.
The curtains flew open. The windows creaked upward.
“Seriously, both of you? What is this? This is embarrassing.” Her mind wandered to her dirty laundry. Had she put it away? Oh God, her sink was full of dishes. She rushed to the kitchen, to where Sophie had beaten her and was already clearing the counters of wrappers and containers from the last couple, or few, days.
Sophie shooed Regina away by putting a hand on her back. She led Regina to the round kitchen table and gestured for her to sit. “When was the last time you went outside?”
“Friday! I went to work.”
“We mean, just to go outside. Go to the grocery store, the gym? When was the last time you cooked?”
She shrugged. “Are you guys stalking me?”
“Yes.” Sophie took a seat across from her and mimicked her position: arms crossed, leaning back. “It’s our job.”
“As what?”
“As your girlfriends, what else?” Adelaide entered with a bag of groceries. “Look, we even got you fruit in case you’re at risk for scurvy from hanging out in the dark, bless your heart.”
“Ha ha, funny.”
“Seriously.” Sophie leaned forward and held Regina by her forearm. The act was comforting, grounding. “What’s going on?”
“I…” A fresh round of tears bubbled under her eyelids. “I’m a mess.”
Adelaide knelt down in front of her. “It’s totally normal.”
Regina shook her head. They weren’t getting the full story. If they had known how she’d acted just days before Logan left, how she’d picked at the smallest things he did. That the morning he’d arrived after his all-night escapade, she’d actually packed up a suitcase and left it in the front foyer with an ultimatum that if he didn’t shape up, she was shipping him out.
“You might feel better telling us. There’s nothing that a good vent can’t fix,” Sophie said.
“You’re going to think I’m the worst.”
Adelaide took her other hand. “Honey, we’ve probably felt everything you’re feeling. There’s no judgment here, right, Sophie?”
“She’s right. No judgment at all.”
Now, tethered by both women, Regina forced out the emotions she’d kept inside for two weeks. “I have this feeling that I can’t shake.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“Feeling unsettled. Is this normal, during a deployment?”
“It happens,” Sophie said. “But here’s the thing. There’s no normal deployment. It all depends on what unit he’s with, what unit you’re in, and where you are in your marriage. It is what it is, and I think putting expectations on it won’t be fair to you or to him. I remember our first deployment together. Jasper and I were so green. We only got ten minutes on the phone a week to work out our kinks as new parents. The phone would simply hang up when the ten minutes were up. Now that was rough.” She half laughed. “So much was left unsaid.”
Regina gathered her courage. If Sophie was sharing, she could, too. Besides, this feeling in her chest was overwhelming; if she didn’t talk about it, she was going to scream. “If I… if I tell you both something, will you keep it to yourselves, for now?”
“Yeah, of course, anything,” Adelaide said.
“It hasn’t been right for a while, even before Logan left.”
“Oh no, don’t say that. You’re newlyweds. You’re getting to know each other,” Adelaide said.
“But shouldn’t we love each other more, then? Wouldn’t our conversations feel more organic, and shouldn’t we want to speak to each other the moment we’re apart?” Her chest began to burn with sadness. “And shouldn’t I be more sad that he’s away?”
“So you’re not sad because you miss him?”
“Yes, of course I am. I love him. I miss his company, and his presence. But I’m also relieved. It’s like my whole body has exhaled this huge sigh. I told you. I’m a mess.”
Adelaide shook her head. “Nope. You’re not a mess. It’s the deployment. It puts us in a situation where we’re literally emotionally frozen until they walk out the door, and once they’re gone and we finally recover enough to respond, they’re not around to support us. But you’re not alone. And you can’t keep yourself in this house. You can’t lock yourself in here.”
“We won’t let you,” Sophie said. “In fact, I have a plan. It’s something I like to do at every deployment. It’s called the SOS.”
“Ah, I get it now,” Adelaide said.
Regina looked between the women. “Get what?”
“SOS. It’s a simple text, three letters. If one of us types it, we come. No excuses.” Sophie looked at her intently, then her gaze jumped to Adelaide. “But this only works if we want to be there for one another, and if we’re open to being helped. We’ve got nine months together, and we can’t do it alone.” Sophie held out her hand, palm up.
“I’m in,” Adelaide said, placing her hand on Regina’s.
“You’re serious?” Regina gripped the two women’s hands, because she hoped against all hope that Sophie and Adelaide were serious. That she did, in fact, have friends; that she had these two people to lean on.
“As a heart attack,” the two women answered.
The three burst into laughter.
“Okay. SOS. Got it.” Regina sniffled.
“But you’re not off the hook yet.” Sophie eyed Adelaide.
“What is it?”
“Two things.” Adelaide stood and dug through the grocery bag. “A box of waffle mix. Because what’s better than waffles?”
“Pfft. Waffle mix, shmaffle mix. I can make waffles from scratch.” It felt like a challenge. Regina’s mind ran through the ingredients she had in her pantry, and for the first time in the last week, she actually felt like cooking. “In fact, I might have everything I need here.”
“Even better. And here’s the second thing.” Adelaide lifted a book and presented it with a game-show-hostess flair.
Room, the next book club book.
Regina groaned. “I take it back. Turn down the lights. I want to be alone. Leave me to wallow and get scurvy. I’d rather be stuck in this room than actually read that depressing book.”
“Nuh-uh. I think it’s apropos, don’t you think?” Sophie laughed. “You’re stuck with us, lady. The two of us, and book club. Get used to it. And better start reading.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sophie
October 2011
A few weeks later, and right on time, Sophie’s waning optimism took a tumble in between helping others with their deployment blues and the next book club meeting—at an escape room, no less—that seemed to never end.
Nothing like a room one needed to esca
pe to remind her she was enclosed in a time warp that would only end in eight months.
“This thing… it won’t untangle!” Sophie’s fingers fumbled with the knot in a rope that was tied to a key. Next to her, Regina and Frank Montreal struggled against their own knots for their own keys. The other end of their ropes were secured to a ground hook.
One of these keys would open the exit door.
“Almost… there,” Regina squeaked. “Frank, how are you doing?
Frank grunted next to her. The other three book clubbers behind them cheered. “I’m stressing! People out there are probably laughing at us. My fingers are on fire.”
This was the first escape room in the area, and the line for this challenge was long with other groups waiting their turn. They were also being videotaped.
“There’s a nurse in the room just in case something happens, don’t worry. C’mon, keep going!” said Sophie. The faster one of their keys unlocked the room, the faster she could go home and lie on her bed and simply read. “We’ve got five minutes left!”
Regina growled; Frank grunted.
“I’m almost there!” Regina yelled. “Oh my God, this is not what I signed up for. We’re not even talking about the book.”
“Shhh. Focus on the keys! You all are moving slower than molasses,” Adelaide screamed.
“Someone, someone say something,” Frank said. “I’m to the last knot. Distract me.”
“Oh, okay, um, I really liked the book. It was devastating. I can’t even imagine,” said Colleen, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was a German woman married to an Army soldier. She was also a math whiz, which had been a help in the room. Without her, they would have still been stuck at the puzzles, which incorporated some geometry and algebra.
It was Colleen’s idea to do an escape room challenge for October’s book club. Which, at the time, seemed like a good idea, a great way to kick-start the neighborhood after deployment. Now Sophie couldn’t blame those who had decided to bow out for the month. The sun was setting earlier, the air was getting chilly, and with Jasper not home, all she wanted to do was curl up and watch TV.
“Fear is what I felt,” Frank said. Sweat bloomed on his forehead. “I know the story is told through Jack’s eyes, but all I could think of was his mother. She tried so hard to make it the best life she could. A couple of times, I had to sit there and remind myself that it was fiction. This book wasn’t a true story, but aren’t each of us just trying to do the same thing—survive in our own bubble? In our own room?”
“That’s deep, Frank.” Sophie paused to appreciate that thought. Okay, maybe she needed book club for that aha moment. She was starting to hibernate. Lately all she wanted was to hide in her bedroom. “It was sad that Jack called each inanimate object by its name, as if they were human friends. It got me in my soft spot.”
“Soft spot? You have a soft spot?” Regina grunted out.
“Hey, I’m a nurse, I have a soft everything.”
“I beg to differ.”
The team laughed.
“She’s right, though, Soph,” Adelaide said. “Don’t be mad, you’re just sometimes… well…”
“You’re hard to read,” Frank added, grunting. “And pardon my language, but you give no fucks. Which isn’t a bad thing, mind you.”
“Oh! I got another loop out! I’m almost there.” Regina rested her arms at her side. “I need a couple of seconds.”
The team cheered, and Sophie joined in, though the comments took her aback. Her fingers relaxed against her own knot. She’d known these people two months now, and their love language was teasing and sarcasm. All her life, Sophie had been able to dish as much as she could take. But in that moment, she felt raw. Her attempts at a clinic job had come up short; she hadn’t even been asked for an interview.
Without Jasper around, she didn’t have the daily pats on the back, the backup to remind her that she was amazing. Her twins wore her out daily, and this sometimes made her feel inadequate. The strength that she was supposed to feel, the steadiness of her experience, was starting to ebb. Everyone seemed to look to her, just as Jasper had asked her to check on Regina, because she was a caregiver.
But what if the caregiver needed caregiving? Caregivers were meant to hang in the background, to make up for the inadequacies of others without fanfare. They were just supposed to do the right thing when called upon. They were the worker bees, though often ignored.
It had never really bothered her, this idea of doing good just because, of sticking to the right road without the accolades. But sometimes…
Sophie felt a hand grip her wrist, bringing her back to the present. It was Regina, a key now in her hand. She looked at Sophie with concern, with care. “You’re a badass, and we love you for it.”
“We love that you don’t give any f… flips at all,” Adelaide chimed in, hugging Sophie and Regina.
“We love that you’re always the voice of reason.” Frank wrapped the three of them in his arms. Then Colleen joined Frank and Adelaide, and their quietest book clubber of all, Evelyn Oh, her arms barely reaching around, whispered, “No fucks.”
The thirty-second warning bell rang, though none of them moved. And Sophie, for the moment, felt seen. Starting with Regina, these people, her friends, noticed.
She softened into this cocoon. For the moment, she didn’t have to be the strong one.
PART THREE
The things of your life arrived in their own time, like a train you had to catch.
—The Passage by Justin Cronin
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sophie
Present Day, Friday
Sophie was back in her world: the sterile environment; among the smell of antiseptic; the big, bright windows; the curtains that squeaked as they swung closed for privacy; and the faraway beeping of someone’s IV machine.
The hospital was Sophie’s second home. This was where she spent most of her days, probably as much time as she’d spent mothering her children. Aside from pockets of time when she didn’t work due to circumstance rather than choice—military-spouse jobs were few and far between, especially in small towns—at every chance she got, she donned her scrubs, and at every new hospital, she earned a quick reputation as an expert in IV insertion.
Hence her annoyance as she watched a young Air Force nurse attempt to insert an IV into Adelaide’s arm for the third time. Third. In her experience, two times was all one got to successfully put in an IV, after which it was time to ask for help. Currently, Adelaide, wearing the faded hospital gown of Fort Patriot Community Hospital, the DC metro’s military hospital, was stiff, posture rigid with an arm out, sporting a tentative look.
Still, Sophie bit her cheek to prevent herself from jumping into the procedure herself. She schooled her expression. She’d hated it when other health-care workers micromanaged her, and her time was better spent calming a tense Adelaide.
“So if something happens to me,” Adelaide was saying, “I have my power of attorney and will in the safe in my bedroom. It’s in the purple folder. The safe’s combination is my birthday.” She sucked in a breath at the puncture of the needle, then continued. “And of course there’s the Genevieve binder I left with Regina that has every bit of information needed to take care of Gen. But the rest of our paperwork, like my address book and passwords, are in the duck room.”
Duck room? “Do you mean your office?”
“Yes, exactly. The room with the collection of ducks on the wall? All from when we were stationed in Alaska. Waterfowl is the more correct term, but Matt refuses to call the room by that name.”
“Right. Waterfowl.” Sophie tried to keep a straight face as she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, instead of hovering over the nurse as she dug for the vein, willing the stick to be successful. To the nurse, she said, “Do you hear this woman? Will you let her know that she’ll be home by this afternoon?”
The nurse visibly relaxed—success?—and flipped the toggle that allowed the f
luid to shimmy down the tube from the bag hanging on the pole, and she pressed on the buttons of the IV machine. “She’s right. I’m not sure if you should be telling her your safe’s combination.”
“Hey, don’t expose that part.” Sophie squeezed out a smile. “I want to be halfway to Florida with all of her Origami Owl necklaces before she wakes up.”
Adelaide cracked up.
“What’s Origami Owl?” the nurse asked.
“It’s an MLM company for necklaces that twist open to hold charms. I think we all took a turn at being a hostess. And that lady right there—” She pointed at Adelaide.
“I like to support, what can I say?” Adelaide admitted.
“She bought a lot of necklaces and charms. And makeup. And baskets.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “She’s a sucker for home parties.”
“Collector is the preferred term.” Adelaide lay back onto the bed, cheeks pink at the banter, but finally, relaxed.
Sophie now understood why Adelaide had insisted that both she and Regina come. Neither, alone, would have been enough. Adelaide was uptight, worried about every little detail. She’d stayed up after midnight fretting about Genevieve’s necessities. Anxiety had teemed off her like waves, and it took both Sophie and Regina to calm her. On the way to the hospital this morning, Sophie had held Adelaide’s hand in the car like she’d clutched her girls’ for any of their big moments.
The nurse noted something on her clipboard. “IV—check. Consent forms are done, so we’re good to go there. In a little bit, your anesthesia provider will come by and chat with you, then we’ll wheel you into the operating room. Ms. Walden, I can take you to the OR waiting room, where you can wait until Mrs. Wilson-Chang is out of surgery and in the recovery room.”
Adelaide nodded, knotting her hands together.
“Can we get a couple of seconds alone?” Sophie addressed the nurse. Her friend needed a moment.
“Of course.”
Once the door shut, Sophie perched on the bed and took Adelaide’s hands in hers. They were slim, smooth, and cold, a contrast to hers, which were, frankly, rough. Sophie had nurses’ hands, with layers of skin peeled off from the constant use of sanitizing foam and antibacterial soap, heavy from the persistent action of moving patients, pressing buttons, carrying, pushing, and pulling. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
