Becca (25 page)

XI

Becca left the hospital a
couple of days after Bert arrived home, and they spent the rest of his leave
together. Still not fully recovered from the pneumonia, they made the best of
their time, however. Both avoided discussing Becca’s health and the war.

The night before he left,
Becca stayed with him. Early in the morning, Josh crawled out of bed, showered
and dressed before waking Becca.

“Is it today?”she asked
as her eyes opened slowly.

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes. “So
why are you still in your uniform? Did the Army take all of your clothes?”

“No, Becca, hey…wake up.”

She rubbed her eyes and
sat up. “I’m so groggy. What did we
do
last night?”

“Nothing actually.”

“Damn it, Josh, we should
have done
something.”
She stared at him a moment. “You look nice in your
uniform.”

“Thank you.”

“You really are going?”

“Yes.”

“Well, have a good time.”

“I’ll try.”

She giggled. “Have a good
time. Listen to me. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”

“That’s okay.”

She shook her head. “No
it’s not good. I don’t want to say something stupid. Wouldn’t want you to get
the wrong impression of me.”

“Couldn’t happen.”

“Do you…” She began and
then fell silent.

“Do I what?”

She shrugged and effort
seemed to be painful for her. “Never mind. Are you going to miss me, Josh?”

“Yes.”

“Will you write to me?”

“Yes.”

“Every day?”

“Twice a day.”

“Liar.”

“Once a day.”

She nodded. “Okay, that’s
good. I’ll write to you. I’ve already started my first letter.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it’s going to say ‘Dear
Josh, today I bawled my eyes out and stayed locked in my dark room because you
broke my heart.’ How’s that?”

“It’s not like I intended
to break your heart, Becca.”

“Okay, I’ll leave that
part out. But I’ll cry my eyes out.”

“You should get dressed
first.”

“Oh…yeah…we’ve got to hit
the road soon.”

“My mom’s made some
coffee and I think she’ preparing a rather large breakfast.”

Becca said, “Stop staring
at me.”

“I…I’m sorry. You look
so…cute.”

“Cute? I was shooting for
coquettish. Mussed hair, perky breasts temptingly outlined by the thin material
of the t-shirt, bare legs. Flashing eyes, sensuous mouth…”

“Okay, coquettish it is.”
He smiled.

Becca’s hand came up and
grabbed his tie, and she pulled him down so close that their noses nearly
touched. She looked at him with eyes bright with passion and sincerity. “You
come
back
, Bertram Leslie Martin Junior. You
hear
me? You come
back.
God
dammit
.” She threw her arms around him. “Come back to me—
please!
Promise me.”

“I do.”

She kissed his neck, his ears and then she
released her grip. “Oh, I think I got that out of my system. Let me dress now.”

XII

When Bert’s flight was
called, Becca stood in front of him and gave him a mock salute.

“You don’t salute
sergeants,” Bert said with a smile.

“What the hell do I know?
I’m a civilian.” She went into his arms and held him close.

“I have to go,” he said.

Becca let go of him so
that he could embrace Carol. His mother did not hold back her tears, and Bert’s
words of reassurance didn’t comfort her. He held her hand as he kissed Becca
again.

“Okay, sergeant, quit
stalling and get the hell out of here. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you
in a year.”

The word
year
sent
shivers along his spine. He squeezed her hand.

Becca said, “Please go,
or I’m going to start crying.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Later ‘gator.”

Bert let go of their
hands and started for gate.

“Stay out of trouble,” he
said to Becca.

“Yeah, and you…you just
do whatever you have to do to make sure you come back here in a year. Do you
hear me, soldier?”

He nodded and tried to
smile. “Absolutely.”

Becca favored him with a
smile and saluted him.

Bert returned it.

“I love your son, Carol.
I don’t think he knows it.”

Carol hugged Becca. “He
does know it.”

“Then why doesn’t he ever
say he loves me? Do you think he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, honey.
He’d be a fool if he didn’t”

If he could just sleep,
Bert thought, perhaps he could tolerate this craziness. It had been a long time
since he had slept for more than two or three hours at a time. Now nearly,
three AM, he finally delved into the letters that he had received in
yesterday’s mail.

He read his mother’s
letter first, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him because she was chastising
him for not writing. Bert had not written a letter in almost two weeks. He could
not think of anything to tell her, and so he simply stopped writing. He
resolved to answer this letter tomorrow when he returned from patrol.

Becca’s envelopes brought
a brief smile to his face. She had adorned them with peace symbols and flowers.
One of the envelopes smelled of her perfume. He pressed it against his face,
relishing her aroma, feeling a wave of loneliness wash over him, nearly
bringing him to tears. He set it aside and opened the oldest postmarked
envelope first.

I’m still here. And
I’m still intact. Feeling better. Don’t worry.

B

She had enclosed a
picture of her and Barb—the first he had received in a couple months. The last
ones she’d sent were her high school yearbook picture and one of her as a
cheerleader—“the old me” she had written on the back of them. In this one,
Becca stood with Barb. Though she looked thin, Becca’s hair was growing back
and she had it styled so that her bangs fell across her forehead.

The second letter dated a
day later said a little more.

Hey you,

Greg was home for a
while. I forgot to tell you that. He’s doing well in school and he says he
misses me, but he’s happy out in California. He’s met somebody—so you know what
that means. HAHAHAHA. He sends his best.

I’m doing okay. In
another couple of weeks, I’ll see Doctor London again.

I know you don’t
mind a short letter as long you get a lot of them right? This is my 202d letter
to you in the 205 days you’ve been gone (but who’s counting). Do you keep them
all? Do you use them for toilet paper? I hope not. I hope my words are worth
more than that to you. I keep all of yours because I cherish everything you
write to me. Of course, if I had to use your letters for toilet paper, I
wouldn’t have enough to make good wipe. What’s with you? I haven’t gotten
anything from you in over a week and that letter was a week old when I got it.
What’s going on? Is everything okay? Too busy? Did you forget me? I know you’re
okay because your mom would’ve told me otherwise, so, soldier, send your girl a
letter. Soon.

Later ‘gater, B

Becca was doing okay. It
was good to know that—good to know that some things
were
going okay.
Some things were getting back to
normal.
Bert opened a third letter.
There was another picture in this letter—Becca barefoot and wearing a short
dress. She was standing so that she looked over her left shoulder at the
camera. She was flashing a peace sign.

Hey you,

Saw on the news
where the fighting isn’t so bad anymore. Is that true? You were telling me
before—when you were writing me letters, I mean—that you are always going out
on patrols, so are the news people wrong, or are you trying to make yourself
out into a hero for me? You don’t need to be a hero. I’m taking you into the
backseat anyway HAHA.

Barb and I have
bought new bikinis. Wait until you see it. I’ve got most of my figure back now,
but still working on the rest of it. Nothing’s changed with me. Leg is doing
okay and so far, it seems like we kicked the cancer’s ass.

You’re a
short-timer now aren’t you? Less than six months…I think on the day I’m writing
this letter you have 142 days to go… Going fast, don’t ya think? What
do
you think? You’re not writing, so it’s not like
I know. Listen…I’ll write a longer letter next time. Why don’t you try to write
a short one or something? I miss hearing from you.

Later ‘gater, B

Bert dropped the letters to floor beside his bunk and
closed his eyes, praying that he might sleep.

I

“Rebecca…Bert’s coming home.”

Becca squealed and almost
dropped the phone. “
What?
It’s been only nine
months.
Is the war
over? I don’t remember anybody saying the war’s over.” Becca’s voice lost its
excitement. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“He’s…been wounded.”

“Wounded—like how badly
wounded?”

There was a pause and
then Carol said, “I don’t know. He’s been wounded more than once and he just
told me. But he’s okay…he’s not in any danger and no…um…problems from them.
But…there’s something else.”

“Wait a minute—he’s been
shot…
or
worse?
Tell
me.”

“Apparently twice since
he’s been over there—”

“
Twice?
You’re
saying he’s been hurt more than
once?
He didn’t
tell
you?”

“No, honey.”

“What the
hell’s
the
matter with him? Is he okay? I mean…I know when a guy gets the million-dollar
wound or something they send him home. Did Josh get a million dollar wound?
He’s…okay—
right?
I mean, if he’s
not
, let me know—not that it
would make a difference. Why didn’t he
call
me? Why didn’t he
write
me?”

“Honey, I can’t answer
those questions. He hasn’t written in a long time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.
I’m going nuts here.”

“And he just called;
he’ll be home in a couple of days.”

“He
called?
All
the way from Vietnam?”

“No. He’s in a hospital
in San Francisco.”

“I thought you said he’d
recovered from his wounds.”

“I know… Honey, he’s got
to go to the VA here he said.”

“The VA? I’m confused. I
thought he had something like two years to serve in army.”

“He said they’ve
discharged him—”

“Oh…well that’s good,
isn’t it? I mean…
isn’t
it? It’s not good. You don’t have to tell me. I
know—it’s not good. And why doesn’t he call
me
, Carol? What’s his
number? I’ll call him.”

“He’s in a hospital ward,
and that might not be possible.”

“A hospital ward… You
said he’s recovered from his wounds. Oh, so, is he
nuts?
Is that what
you’re trying to tell me?”

“Honey, he’s okay. He
just has to get some treatment, and then they’ll send him home.”

“Why don’t I feel happy?”

“We’ll know more when he’s home.”

II

“Bert’s home.”

“
Home?
When did he
get home? Last week you said he was going to have to spend another couple of
weeks in the hospital.”

“Well…he’s here. He just
walked in the door.”

“And he didn’t
call
anyone?
What the hell’s the matter with him?”

“Rebecca…he’s in his
room. I told him to call you and all he said was that you’d come by—he didn’t
need to call.”

“Well, he’s right. I’m on my way.”

III

Becca knocked on Bert’s
door. There was no answer. Carol stood next to her, wringing her hands
nervously, not know what to expect from her son who had suddenly appeared at
her door with a thick medical file and a duffel bag.

“What the hell’s the
matter with him?” Becca asked. “Hey, Josh, open the door. It’s Becca.” She
turned the handle and the door opened.

Bert sat on his bed. He
did not move.

Becca gasped at Bert’s
gaunt appearance and at his eyes with dark circles and at his expressionless
face. “Hey you,” she said, fighting the urge to cry, and the urge to rush into
his arms. As she crossed the room to him, his eyes followed her, but still he
did not move. “Josh…are you going to just sit there or are you going to jump up
and lay one on me?”

Bert managed a smile and
stood up. Becca encircled him with her arms and pulled him to her. After a
moment’s hesitation, Bert’s arms went around her and he seemed to collapse
against her. He buried his face against her neck.

“I’m so glad you’re
home,
”
Becca whispered.

Bert said nothing, and
continued to hold her closely.

“Why didn’t you tell me
you were
wounded?
Where
were you wounded?” She tried to break the
embrace, but he would not have it. “Josh…what’s wrong?”

Bert’s arms dropped to
his side and he stepped away from her. “Nothing.”

“Ah,” Becca waved her
finger at him, “that’s a something nothing, buckaroo.” She gave him the once
over. “You like you’ve got everything you went over there with. You could put
on some weight, but otherwise you look okay.” She smiled, but her heart wasn’t
in it. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“So…I’ve been in this
room for like what—five minutes—and still no kiss no
oh-my-God-I’m-so-glad-to-see-you-Becca?”

“I’m glad to see you,”
Bert said.

“Yeah…well…I expected
something a little more meaningful than that.” She could not draw a smile from
him so she dropped the comedy. “Okay, Josh—Bertram—what’s the matter? Don’t lie
to me. Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong ‘cause I know better.”

“I’m just so…tired… Can I
sleep now? Maybe you can come back later?”

“Maybe I can come back
later. Sure. How much later? An hour…three hours—a
day? Dammit,
Josh…this
isn’t going very well. What the hell’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell us you were
wounded? Why don’t you wanna talk
now?”
Becca glanced at Carol, who
shrugged. “Okay…this sure hasn’t turned out the way I’d planned. But, okay,
Josh…after dinner? Say seven o’clock?”

“Sure.”

Becca reached out, took
his hand, and kissed it. “I love you, Josh. You haven’t forgotten that, have
you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

IV

“What do you mean he’s
not here?” Becca said when she arrived at Bert’s house that evening.

“He left maybe an hour
ago. I reminded him you were coming over, but just he walked out.”

“You reminded him? He
didn’t remember?”

“He hasn’t spoken all
day. I mean, he’s been in his room since you left this afternoon—didn’t come to
dinner. When he came out finally it didn’t look like he’d slept at all. I’m
worried about him. He needs…help.”

“Where would he go?”
Becca asked.

“He mumbled something
about going to work.”

Becca rushed out, jumped
into her car, and headed toward the gas station. She saw Bert walking up the
steep hill as she drove down, and managed to make a U-turn at one of the
intersections. She pulled up alongside him and honked the horn. He looked at
her and came over to the car.

“Just what in the hell do
you think you’re doing?” Becca asked.

“Walking home,” Bert
said.

“Hey, I can see that,
Josh. But what in the hell are
doing
walking home? You knew I was coming
over to see you.” She opened the door. “Get in.”

Bert sat down in the
passenger seat. “Thanks,” he said.

Becca watched him a few
seconds, but Bert merely looked out the windshield, and then, seeming to sense
her stare, turned his head and his weary eyes now stared back. “Are we just
going to sit here?” he asked.

“No,” Becca said. She
felt the car begin to slip backward, pressed the gas, and started up the hill. “We’re
going to talk, Josh.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Becca…I…” He shrugged, sighed,
and looked out the passenger window.

“Something’s wrong, Josh.
You’re going to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re
not.
Goddammit,
Josh, something’s
wrong.
” Becca turned around again and went back down
the hill. “And you’re not going home until you talk to me. Jesus Christ, Josh.
You’ve been to a war, you’ve been
wounded—
which you never told me about,
thank you very much—and now you’re out of the army way ahead of time. You come
home without telling me, and you leave the house when you knew I was coming
over,
and
you tell your mom you’re going to work.
Then
you walk
to the gas station—I
know
that’s where you went so don’t lie about that—and
expect me to believe that nothing’s
wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Becca.
Please, just take me home.”

“Josh—”

“Please.”

They were at the bottom
of the hill now, and Becca went through the intersection, pulled into the A
& P parking lot, and parked the car. She turned in her seat to face Bert.

“How are you, Becca,” she
said in a mocking voice. “I’m fine, Josh. How are you? I’m great. I’m back
home, I’m with the girl I love, I’m ready to take on the world with her because
she told me that’s we were going to do when I got home and I can’t wait to get
started. Well, Josh let’s make some plans. Oh, by the way, Josh, I’m on the
honor roll in school. Oh, and guess what? My cancer has been in remission, so
that’s why I look so wonderful now. Yes, Becca, you look ravishing—love the new
hairdo as a matter of fact. Thank you, Josh, I’m letting it grow because I
really don’t like the I’ve-got-cancer-and-that’s-why-my-hair’s-so-short-look.
But I have to tell you, I’m a little concerned—
pause—
and why are you
concerned, Becca? Well, Josh, I’m concerned because recently I’ve experienced
some pain and I’m worried that the cancer is coming back. I’ve had pains before
and it wasn’t the cancer, but I can’t be too sure so I have an appointment to
see Doctor London tomorrow, and I want to cancel it because you’re home now,
but I really shouldn’t so I’ll go. Oh I’m sure it’s nothing, Becca...” She
paused. “You see, Josh, we should be having a conversation like that instead of
sitting in this goddamned parking lot, and me listening to only my voice. And,
oh—by the way—I’ve
missed
you too much for words, and I love you very
much
—I
adore
you actually—but I’m pissed off because you stopped writing.

“Okay, Josh, this is the
part where you tell me where you were wounded, and how you are doing, and why
the Army let you go so soon and—”

“I’m crazy,” Bert said.

“Oh, hell, I
knew
that.
Really, why are you out of the army? Why do you have to go to the VA?”

“I’m crazy.”

“No…
seriously.”
Becca
saw the blank expression on his face and watched him shrug. “Oh, Josh…I’m not
making fun of you. But—gee, I thought you coming home would be a much happier
occasion than this.” She took his hand. “You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.
And don’t say you’re crazy.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Oh…well…it’s the long
trip—jet lag I think they call it.”

He shook his head. “No…I
haven’t slept in a long time, Becca. I
can’t
.”

“Why can’t you?”

He sighed heavily. “I…just
can’t.”

“The goddamned war, Josh.
I’ve heard of stuff like this when guys came back from World War Two and they
couldn’t leave the war behind. You’re not crazy, darling. You’ve…seen things I
don’t want to know about. But the VA can help you. You’ll talk to someone there
who’ll get you straight.”

“I don’t know.”

“Josh, why did you get an
early discharge?”

He shrugged. “I got
evaluated in Frisco and…they said I wasn’t fit for further service. I’m
crazy…insane.”

“As far as you
being crazy, hell I
know
that. I could’ve told ‘em you shouldn’t be allowed in the army. But you’re
not
insane.
That’s crap.” Becca started the car. “I’m taking you home,
Josh, and we’re going to sit on your porch and talk this through.”

V

“Tell me what’s wrong,
baby,” Becca said as they sat on the porch swing.

Bert shook his head. “I
can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, I
can’t!”
Bert
stood up. “Becca…please…I’m—I don’t want to talk about it. I want to try to
sleep now, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Crushed, Becca felt tears
well in her eyes, but blinked them away. “Okay, Josh. Sure.” She stood up and Bert
hugged her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know, baby, I know.”

VI

“I’m sorry,” Dr. London
said.

Becca sat frozen, her
mother at her side. “It’s not fair.”

“We’ll start treatment
immediately. This has happened before and we’ve beaten it.”

“But.”

“But?”

“There’s a but there, doc
that you didn’t say. A big but.”

Dr. London said, “It
appears to be more…aggressive than before. I’m sorry.”

“So we just pissed it off
and it’s coming back with a vengeance.”