Come and Talk to Me (8 page)

“Promise me no more titty bars.”

“No more titty bars. Does that mean you and Virgie won’t go to any more all-male reviews?”

“Were you a male stripper to make a living and hate your past?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed. “That’s double standards you know.”

“Hardly.” She crossed her arms. “They don’t…”

He stopped her talking by putting his fingers over her mouth. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A F
EW
D
AYS
L
ATER
, Reggie woke up to the sound of the shower running. It was unusual for Van not to at least kiss her good morning if he wasn’t going to stay in bed, which almost never happened, especially after the morning kiss.

She walked into the bathroom, got naked and climbed in the shower with him.

“You didn’t come kiss me,” she said as she reached her arms around him and rested her head on his back.

“We just docked. I was salty and needed a shower. I’d rather do it here than there, I only brought one set of clothes.” He winced as her hands ran up his chest.

“What’s wrong? Your back?”

“No. Don’t freak out.”

Reggie dropped her hands. “Don’t freak out about what?” He turned around, revealing a large green bruise high on his chest. “What happened there?” She gave it a kiss, but even that made him wince.

“I got shot,” he said, softly, hoping she didn’t hear it. No such luck with the wife’s selective hearing.

“You got shot?”

“It’s not a big deal, Reg. I told you not to freak out.”

“Not a big deal? How can you say it’s not a big deal? You were shot?” she said again, somehow hoping he would change his answer.

“That’s why we wear the bulletproof vests when we’re out on patrol. They’re not for beauty or comfort.”

“I’ve never seen you in a bulletproof vest.”

“I don’t ever wear it home.” He didn’t like the look on her face. “I’m safe when I’m at work, Reg.”

“You don’t have a vest on your head, Van.” She stomped out of the shower.

Van joined her in a few minutes on the four-season screened porch, where she sat staring out at the water. He had a cup of coffee for each of them.

“Aren’t you going to bed?”

“In a little bit. I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I wanted sex and I didn’t get that.” He laughed and that made her angry. “You know, I had no idea I was marrying a cop.”

“You didn’t marry a cop. I have more jurisdiction.”

“How so?”

“For starters, if I see fit, I don’t need a search warrant in some cases. We also don’t stop for doughnuts first.”

“Fine, make jokes.” She walked outside in a huff then sat on the hammock. It was cool out, but at least there were no mosquitoes. Within a few minutes he was standing next to her. He picked her up and sat down with her in his lap.

“Why do we always have to have these fights on my days off?”

“’Cause I can’t fight with you when you’re working.”

“Touché. What do you want, Reg? I don’t want to leave this job.”

“Isn’t there something else you can do besides being out with the drug runners and illegals trying to slip in?”

“I didn’t work this hard to be a pencil pusher like that weenie Garner. It’s what I do, babe. You had to have known what it was like. How long did you know Troy before you met me?”

“Over two years. I never heard about shootings and dead bodies before. I guess there’s a little less drug trafficking on Maui.”

He laughed hard. “Hardly.”

“How so?”

“Are you that blind on purpose or are you really that naïve?”

“Pot doesn’t make killers out of people.”

“The hell it doesn’t. And if you think pot is the worst of the island’s problems, you have another thing coming.”

She did know a little something about drugs and what they did to people, but that conversation was for later, if ever.

“Troy never talked shop when I was there. I guess I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t even know the Coast Guard was military until I met him. The commercials were always, Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines…”

“What a great place…” He continued the song, but stopped when Reggie slapped him on his arm. “It’s who I am, babe.”

“Can you be who you are a little safer?”

“I’ll hide behind weenie Garner then next time. Okay?”

“He’s the one with small man’s syndrome though, right?”

He laughed hard. “That’s him.”

“Pick someone taller.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Can I have sex now?”

“That’s affirmative.”

“Is it your turn to be on top or mine?”

“I dunno. I was kind of eyeing up the wall.”

She hesitated only for a second. “Okay.” She let out a squeal, hopping off the hammock and running to the house.

~*~

Six months passed without much more than a flinch from Van’s back. On occasion when it was tight, he popped a pain pill, but they weren’t much more than the equivalent of four Advils. It was no big deal. Reggie downed that many for headaches a couple days a month. Her uterus was out of commission, but she still ovulated and became uncomfortable once a month. She preferred Van used that term rather than the word bitchy.

Van came home that morning and was surprised to find her not in bed. He usually woke her up when he got home from work. After a quick search, he found her in the all-season porch, standing there, looking out at the canal.

“Hey, babe,” he said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You don’t want me this morning, huh? I see how you are.” He playfully growled and bit at her neck. When she didn’t respond he turned her around. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Do I need to take you to Key West?”

“You’re not taking me anywhere near that place, Van. I don’t care if I’m bleeding to death.”

“What is it then? You’re scaring me, baby.”

“I’m bleeding.”

“You’re bleeding?” He leaned her back and looked her over. “Where?”

“I’m spotting, Van.”

“Spotting? Ohhh.” He hugged her in relief then pulled her back again. “Really?” She nodded, looking a little scared. “That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her bottom lip. “I haven’t…you know…for years.”

“You mean you used to?”

“I started out normal you know!”

“No, I don’t know.” He stroked her face. “You’ve never wanted to talk about it. Calm down, okay? Let’s get you to a doctor and get you checked out.”

“I’m not going to one of your base butchers!”

“We’ll go somewhere else and pay. Whatever you want.” He didn’t like the sad expression in her eyes. “You’re really upset about this.”

“It’s not really a bad upset,” she said, wiping away a tear. “What if…what if this means I can get pregnant now?”

“Reg…don’t get all excited one way or another. Please try not to. We haven’t thought or talked about this since the day we became engaged. One way or the other is not going to change how I feel about you.”

“I know, but what if—”

He put his finger to her lips. “No ‘what ifs.’ Let me shower and I’ll drive you to the clinic.” He kissed her. “I love you.”

~*~

Reggie insisted on seeing the doctor alone. She was afraid he’d ask questions she didn’t want to answer in front of Van. He knew all she wanted him to know.

“I see no cause for alarm,” the doctor said. “The bleeding is just a ‘sluffing’ of sorts. There’s no new damage or tears. There’s still a tremendous amount of scar tissue. It doesn’t look like you can expect much more for spotting.”

“Will this happen every month?”

“There’s no way to tell for sure. Your body is fighting to heal itself even after all this time. My guess is it simply will continue to try. It is odd to start up after all these years, but don’t get too excited. I don’t think the lining will ever replace itself enough to support a child. I’m sorry.”

Reggie stifled back tears that wanted to flow. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, but she wanted so badly so be able to have a baby.

Van rushed over to her when she came out into the waiting room. “So?”

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. We wasted a trip and money.” With a smile, he held up a single red rose. “That’s more wasted money, Van. Don’t waste money on flowers for me. They just die anyway!” She stormed out of the doctor’s office and got in the car. Van handed the flower to the receptionist then joined her, started it up and headed for home.

~*~

Van knew better than to dare say a word yet. He knew better, but he couldn’t handle her silence.

“If you really want a baby, we can look into adoption, Reg.”

“I thought you weren’t ready to talk about kids.”

“If a baby is what it would take to make you happy, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want you to make me happy. I want us to be happy.”

“Well, I am happy, dammit. You’re the one that isn’t all of a sudden. You keep saying it’s about me, but it isn’t. Having a kid is about you.”

“No, it’s about us.”

He grunted in frustration. “Of course it’s about us, but I’m happy the way things are, Reg. You’re the one that seems to be dead set on getting upset about it. I’ve watched Sabrina go crazy every month trying to get pregnant and I don’t want that. I don’t want you going nuts every month over a spot of blood, hoping and praying you’ll get pregnant. If you want a kid so bad, let’s look into adoption.”

~*~

Reggie was silent the rest of the way home. Van pulled into the driveway, jammed the car into park and walked into the house. She stayed in the car for a while. He was right; she just wasn’t done pouting. She finally opened the door to get out, looked down and let out a blood-curdling scream. Van came flying out of the house and down the two steps into the garage. He skidded for a second on a small puddle of water, but clutched onto the car and steadied himself, avoiding a fall.

When he finally caught himself, he asked her, “What happened?” He ran over to her door and opened it.

“There was a snake.”

“A snake? I thought you were stabbed with that scream.” He looked around. “You scared it off. Come on.” He offered her his hand and helped her out of the car.

~*~

Van took a second to straighten up. His back had jerked pretty good sliding to a stop. He walked into the bedroom and tossed his t-shirt toward the hamper. It hit the floor; that was close enough. He was past due to crawl into bed and was tired, but for now he settled on leaning against the wall. He couldn’t lie down until they talked this through. She had followed him in and leaned up to his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Can we?” she asked.

“Can we what?”

“Look into it.” She looked up at him, her chin propped on his chest.

“Adopting? Of course, I meant it. I know you hate everything about the military, but we have lawyers for everything. I can get the ball rolling, if that’s really what you want.”

“Do you?”

He kissed her forehead. “Yes, baby.” He picked her up and brought her to his chest. She began to wrap her legs around him when he screamed. He dropped her back to her feet and slid down the wall. He immediately lay flat on his back.

“Aw, fuck me!” He pounded the floor with two closed fists. He was wincing, taking deep breaths, trying to pant the pain away. It wasn’t working. He let out another shout of pain. “Dammit! Call Derrick. Call him now, baby. I ain’t messin’ around. Have him send the truck here.”

~*~

“Apparently he gave his spine a little jostle when he slipped on the water,” the doctor explained. They were back at the hospital in Key West, with the same doctor.

“A little jostle?” Reggie repeated, upset at the belittling of her husband’s injury…again. “Doctor, you didn’t hear him scream.”

“Even the slightest misalignment can be very painful. Things seem to have readjusted themselves. There was most likely a pinched nerve that cause some discomfort, but it’s gone now.”

“Some discomfort? I don’t know who you’re used to dealing with around here, but my husband doesn’t shout like that over ‘some discomfort.’” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. This wasn’t going to help and she knew it. “Did you at least take x-rays this time?”

The doctor sighed. “We have a slap-happy intern here that wanted to rule out everything short of the chicken pox. Yes, he’s had x-rays. They show no injuries.” Reggie stared at the doctor in disbelief. “It’s a pinched nerve, Mrs. Kimball. I’ve ordered refills of the medications and added something stronger. He did seem a little worse than a few months ago. That could have been because he didn’t get the morphine before he was brought to me like last time. In any case, follow the directions again.”

“He doesn’t like taking the pills.”

The doctor had begun to walk away, but stopped at her comment and spun around. “I don’t give a goddamn what he likes. This is logged as a military-related injury and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll follow my directions.”

She wasn’t going to let his tone falter her. She stood tall, proud and defiant. “Why is this a military injury if he slipped in our garage?”

“For one, like it or not, missy, he’s the property of Uncle Sam. He can’t scratch his ass without going through the proper chain of command.” She gritted her teeth. “Two, because this is considered a recurring injury. Same location. Same pain. It’s like the aftershock of an earthquake.”

“This could happen again?”

He ignored her comment and held three fingers up. “And three, because I said so. That test-happy intern is keeping him overnight. You can show up at noon to take him home.” He stomped off muttering something about how military men shouldn’t be allowed to get married. Reggie kicked a trashcan and let out a stifled scream.

“He’s been here for thirty-two hours straight. He really can’t be to blame,” the nurse said from behind the desk.

“He doesn’t give a crap about his patients.”

“We’ve had an influx of crazy wives lately.”

“I care about my husband so that makes me crazy?”

“You can love him without ripping him in two, honey. He chose military life and you chose him. It’s best you accept things the way they are.”

“I don’t have to accept rude and careless doctors.”

“You have an ID card that says you do. Sorry.” The nurse picked up a folder and walked away.

“Great!” Reggie was red-faced angry and fighting tears at the same time. With no nurse to guard the door, she walked down the hall looking for Van’s room. When she found it, she checked behind the other curtain and discovered he had a private room, for the time being anyway. He was sleeping, no doubt heavily sedated. She crawled in bed with him and snuggled up to him like she had on the floor all those months ago. It seemed now like it had only happened yesterday.