Come and Talk to Me

by June Kramin

  “Derrick?”

  “Dang, girlfriend. I could have had my way with you and you wouldn’t have woken up. I’ve been shaking you for five minutes.”

  She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not feeling so hot. I had a headache and downed a couple of Van’s pills.” She pointed to the bottle on the stand and laid her head back on her pillow.

  Derrick picked up the bottle and turned on the light. “You shouldn’t take codeine when you don’t need it, Reggie.”

  “It’s not codeine, it’s Tylenol.”

  He held up the bottle and pointed to a word on it. “With codeine.”

  She sat up and snatched the bottle from him. “Shit. It looks just like the other stuff. I had no idea…why are you here Derrick?” Her mind was finally beginning to clear.

  “I need to drive you to see your husband.”

  “Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “Homestead, and he’s all right, but you should be there. I’ll explain on the way.”

  She dressed in a hurry then they left in the station’s truck. It was a huge custom built six-door Ford F-250. “You can lie down and sleep in the back seat if you want.”

  “I can’t sleep now. You going to tell me what happened?”

  “You sure? The details are kinda gory.”

  “He’s hurt that bad?”

  “No. Sorry. It’s his back again, Reg. We were out on patrol and received a call about a capsized boat, a twenty-five footer. We approached him and it became a game of standoff.”

  “Why? Didn’t he want to be rescued?”

  “He was an illegal with a butt-load of cocaine on board. He ended up blowing his brains out rather than getting captured.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Well, Van was on fishin’ detail for the body.” When she looked at him with her head cocked he said, “Sorry. He was pulling the body up on the ship when his back went out again.”

  “Dammit all to hell!” She pounded the dashboard.

  “You two are sure meant for each other. That’s pretty much what he said.”

  “Why are we going to Homestead and not Key West?”

  “We went to the quickest dock we could to get him on land. It was Tavernier Key. There was a civilian EMT there. He had him airlifted before we could say boo.”

  “Airlifted?”

  “He’s bad, Reg. Real bad. This ain’t no torn muscle or strained nerve.”

  “I don’t give it shit what it costs. I’m glad he’ll be at a regular hospital.”

  “It’ll get covered anyway. He’s still government property.”

  “I hate it when I hear that. He’s not a fucking jeep.”

  “He’ll be all right.”

  “Maybe now. Can’t you make this tank go any faster?”

  “I’m going ten miles over already, Reg.”

  “I’ll pay your damn ticket. Floor it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It was a nice change for Reggie to be able to discuss her husband by name and not four numbers. The nurses offered her coffee and assured her the doctor would be out soon. “He’s getting an MRI. It should be about another half hour or so.”

  “An MRI?”

  “Yes. We need a good look-see at what’s going on. X-rays wouldn’t be good enough in this case.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Reggie said under her breath. “Is he in a lot of pain?”

  “He was given morphine. He’s a lot better than when he came in.”

  Reggie hated that word. Morphine. It sounded so final. The painkiller of last resort. So addicting. At least Van was better than that. He’d never get hooked on pain meds. Suddenly she remembered her groggy conversation with Derrick earlier. She had no idea he was taking codeine. Codeine. She didn’t like the sound of that any better. Why hadn’t he told her he was taking codeine?

  A nurse came over and led her into a room. There was a table and chairs in the middle and the walls were covered with lighted glass boards. Obviously they were for viewing x-rays. “The doctor will be right in.” She smiled pleasantly and Reggie thanked her.

  The doctor came in after ten minutes and shook her hand. “Mrs. Kimball, I’m Doctor Anthony.” She looked at the folder in his other hand. “These are the results from the MRI. I’d like to go over a few things with you.”

  “Herniated L4 and L5? What now?” Reggie asked after hearing the prognosis from the doctor.

  “Surgery to remove the worst of it.”

  “On his spine? That has to be dangerous.”

  “It’s a common procedure. There’s really no choice. He’ll feel better immediately. The herniation is putting a terrible amount of stress on the nerve. It’s hard to believe he’s gone this long from the accident without a procedure.”

  “Thank Uncle Sam,” she said in her best sarcastic tone. “The assholes do nothing but give him pills.”

  “He’s never had an MRI before?”

  “Just x-rays and I practically had to throw a tantrum to get that.”

  “It wouldn’t show up too well there unless you were looking specifically for it.”

  “Goddammit. I hate that place,” she complained as she stared at the images.

  “Don’t be so hard on them. They could be right about the previous times. Maybe there was nothing to see before or it was just a minor injury and this sent him over the edge. There’s no way of knowing.”

  She huffed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “There’s no way of knowing for sure. Anger won’t help him. Main thing is we’ll get him fixed up.”

  “When are you going to do the procedure?”

  “As soon as you sign the release.”

  “You’ll do it here?”

  “It needs to be done right away. I’d hate to move him in this condition. We’ve been fighting with Champus for an hour. They say no. We’ll bill them; eventually we’ll get paid.”

  “I can’t thank you enough. I’m so tired of being treated like a number there.”

  “They’re good doctors and it really is great insurance, they have rules to follow like we do.”

  Reggie held back her comments. She didn’t want to carry on; she wanted Van feeling better.

  ~*~

  They allowed Van to stay for two days after the procedure then orders were sent for him to be transported to Key West for the remainder of the week.

  “It’ll be closer for you, baby.” Van insisted it was a good thing. “It’ll shave an hour of drive time and you can get back to work.”

  “I liked the idea of you being here for a change.”

  “I’m just sitting on my ass. It doesn’t matter where I am.”

  Exactly a week after the procedure, he was escorted out the door of the hospital and given leave for only a week of rest at home, much to Reggie’s dismay.

  “A week? You get to rest a week? You just had back surgery, for crying out loud. Hello…spine…bulging discs…nerve damage. What the hell is the bullshit, Van? You can’t be serious. You need to heal longer than a week.”

  “Baby, I feel brand new. You have no idea how great it feels. I can go back in a week, easy. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you would.” They had an hour to talk about it on the way home. By the time they reached their house, Reggie was still seeing flames. She thought he needed more time to rest and was sure her concerns were more than justified. Before he went to get out of the car, she held his hand and looked him square in the eye. “You never told me you were taking pills with codeine.”

  “Aw, hell, that’s not a big deal. I hardly ever took them. It was hurting one day so I called down there. That’s what they sent back with the driver. They said to try that to see if it helped and it did.”

  “I took some by accident the other night.”

  “Didn’t you look at the label?”

  “It looks the same except for a small ‘c’ in parenthesis on the bottle, Van. The pills are exactly the same size and everything.”
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  “Are you okay? Did something happen?” He reached for her face and held it with concern.

  “No, but it really knocked me out. That was the night Derrick came to take me to you. It was a long time before he was able to wake me up.”

  “I have a lot of weight on you remember. Things don’t affect me the way they do you.”

  “I took two; you’re prescribed three—three times a day.”

  “But I don’t take them that often.” He sat back in the chair. “Are you worried I’m abusing the pills, Reggie? Because you were the one stuffing them down my face before, if I recall correctly.” He angrily climbed out of the car, grabbing the bag of medications that were sent with him—ones for pain, an anti-inflammatory, an antibiotic, one in case the pain increased, and one pill in case he became constipated from all the pills. How ironic. She hurried out of the car to help him into the house.

  “I’m not saying that. I know you take it easy on them.”

  “Then what?” he barked, defensively.

  “You never told me things were bothering you again. You didn’t mention having to get stronger pills.”

  He shoved the bag at her. “Well how ’bout you regulate that from now on like you do when telling me which bars I can go into.” He let go of the bag, walked into the bedroom on his own and closed the door.

  The phone rang. She almost ignored it to go speak with Van, but she figured it would be best if they both took a few minutes to think about things before getting into a heated argument. It was Troy calling; she was never so happy to hear anyone’s voice before.

  “That bum of a husband of yours home yet?”

  “Oh, Troy.” She began to cry.

  “He giving you a hard time, princess? Do I need to come tune him up?”

  “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’ll pass. I’m sure they sent him out too early and he’s hurting and crabby. You know what a peach I am. I’m sure I said something wrong.”

  “The offer is good you know.”

  “What offer?”

  “To tune him up. We’re in Orlando.”

  “You’re not!”

  “Yup. Bri’s nieces were going to Disneyworld and she wanted to go. Guess who was dragged along?”

  “A big strong hunk like you?”

  “Bingo. You think that good for nothing will be up for company tomorrow? We’d get there around five.”

  “He’ll be up for you guys and if he’s not, I don’t care; I need you. Can you stay for a few days?”

  “Two if you’ll have us.”

  “We have a spare room. You can stay here.”

  “I know. You’ve said that every time we talk. We’re glad we can finally take you up on it. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve really missed you, too.”

  “Want to get Van on the phone? Think I should talk to him?”

  “I don’t think so. We just walked in the door—” she lowered her voice “—and it’s not very pretty right now.”

  “Hence the tears. Sorry, princess.”

  “It’ll be okay. Can I talk to Bri, though?”

  “She’s been clawing at the phone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The girls talked for twenty minutes before they decided to hang up and finish catching up tomorrow. Reggie went in the bedroom, walking slowly, not wanting to wake Van up if he was sleeping.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “Our best friends in the whole world.”

  “Calling to check on the gimp?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. She didn’t want to play into his mood. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk on the phone.”

  “Good call. I don’t.”

  “They called from Orlando. They’re going to stop by tomorrow.”

  “Really?” She was glad the news perked him up and that he didn’t get upset about not wanting company or mad because he couldn’t do anything with them.

  “I said it was okay if they stayed here for two days. I hope it’s all right with you.”

  “Of course it’s all right. I can’t do much with Troy, but you can take them down to Key West.”

  “They’re coming to see us, Van. They’re not going to worry about going down there. Coming from Hawaii, Key West isn’t such a big deal.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about keeping the sex noise down.”

  “Stop it, Van. Just stop it. I’m not doing this pity party with you.” She turned to walk away but he caught her hand.

  “Why is one of us always leaving in the middle of a conversation?”

  “’Cause they’re called fights. I love you, you damn shithead.” She crawled on the bed with him and snuggled into his chest. “You’re the one who is always there for me. You’re the strong one; the level-headed one. I get to be the bitch.” He chuckled, but she continued. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I know I can’t imagine what it must feel like, but I can’t take you talking yourself down. You’ll heal and be good as new.”

  “No I won’t, baby. I’ll have restrictions. This may not be the last surgery I’ll have to have.”

  “So we’ll get through it together. You put your damn pride aside and take it a little easy. Let someone else carry the heavy shit for a change. And…you take what pills you need. You follow the directions. I’m not worried about you overdoing it, Van. I was scared that you didn’t tell me. I don’t want you to hide when you’re hurting from me. I don’t want you ever thinking you have to play tough guy for me. You are my tough guy.”

  He held her tight. “I’ll do my best to take it easy when I can, but I don’t want you jumping every time I wince in pain. I’ll deal with this my way, okay?”

  “Fair enough.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and hopped off the bed.

  “Where you going?”

  “I have to check the paper and see if there’s an all-male review that Bri and I can get to.” She held her serious face for a second before she laughed. She went back to him for another kiss. “I bought you something. I’ll be right back.”

  She lit a couple candles in the bedroom then turned off the lights. “You bought me vanilla bean candles?”

  “Nope.” She walked into the bathroom and pulled the pocket-door closed. After a minute, she slid it open a few inches and stuck her leg out. She had it bent then pointed it out straight. She put it down and stepped into the doorway, backlit only by a flickering candle, wearing a red, white, and blue very skimpy bikini. Her hair was down, the way Van liked it best. She slinked over to him, slowly moving her arms up and down her sides. He was in a trance. He smiled as the music playing in the background registered with him; Jodeci’s “Come and Talk to Me.”

  He swallowed hard. “Lord Almighty. Go easy on me, woman.”

  Chapter 11

  VAN AND REGGIE had a great visit with Troy and Sabrina. Van’s spirits were up and it was like old times. The girls did pop away for an afternoon at Key West so the boys could have some time alone. Although Van was okay while they were there, Reggie thought maybe he would open up more to Troy. He never was one for talking on the phone; maybe a couple beers would loosen him up. He wasn’t supposed to drink with the medications, but she wasn’t about to deny him a few with their friends there.

  Duvall Street reminded Sabrina a little of Front Street. They had to get daiquiris from Fat Tuesday and walked around with open drinks, just because they could. One thing that never stopped amazing Reggie was being able to walk from bar to bar with a drink in hand.

  “How are you holding up, hon?” Sabrina asked when they finally stopped to kick their feet up at Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville.”

  “Me? I’m fine. It’s Van I worry about, Bri.”

  “He has doctors, a whole crew, and you. I’m not worried about him. You look weary. Who’s looking out for you?”

  “I’m fine. Really. It’s hard when he puts himself down, is all. He’s always been my strength. When he gets depressed, I don’t know what to do with him.”

  “Have you talked to his
doctor about an anti-depressant?”

  “That’s all I want; him taking another pill.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “All they do is feed him pills, Bri.”

  “But now he’s had surgery. It’s bound to get better, right?”

  “That’s the plan anyway. He’s going to be on restrictions and he’s not going to like it or listen, if I know him.”

  “Threaten to hold out sex.”

  “Who’s that going to punish?” Reggie laughed. “How are you guys doing? Any luck with your lab work?”

  “There’s no medical reason why I’m not getting pregnant. We were told to stop stressing about it. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.”

  “It’ll happen, Bri.” Reggie gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Let’s get back. We’ll stop and get some Force Five wings for dinner. I wanna see Troy’s eyes water when he tries them!”

  “You know he loves hot food.”

  “This place gives you a t-shirt if you can make it through the batch.”

  “Oh, this I gotta see.”

  ~*~

  “You look like you’ve lost a few pounds, but other than that, you’re still an ugly bastard.” Troy handed Van a beer. “You holding up?”

  “When I’m not flat on my back, I’m great.”

  “I thought you liked being flat on your back.” Troy grinned.

  “Only when I’m being held down by my wife.” Van allowed himself a chuckle.

  “There it is.”

  “There what is?”

  “The laugh. I thought you’d lost it.”

  “Don’t give me shit, man. It hasn’t been easy. Reggie’s been coddling me to death.”

  “So let her.”

  “Are you the one high on pain meds?”

  “You’ll heal and you’ll be the same hero jackass we all know and love. It won’t kill you to take it easy for a few weeks.”

  “What hero work can I do with a limit of picking up no more than twenty pounds?”

  “Only twenty pounds? All hell. I guess asking you to help me pee is outta the question then.”

  Van exploded in another loud laugh. “Shit. Maybe when I re-up we should try to head back to Maui.”

  “You do that,” Troy said as he clinked beer bottles with him. “I’ll do what I can from my end.”