Mom sat on the patio, rocking back and forth in her chair slowly, her leg elevated on the ottoman we brought from inside. She couldn’t exercise much, so she tried to make her body move whenever she could. I was helping Dad pull weeds in our yard.
She had been home for a couple of weeks. We had all flown out to Washington, D.C., to see her and then she came home with us. Her bandages were off and her scars were noticeable, but only if I looked closely at that side of her face. Her leg seemed to be improving on schedule. Those doctors were amazing.
Mom smiled as she rocked, the mid-May sun brightening her already shadowy face. She was the strongest person I knew. I couldn’t imagine going through everything that she had. Just a few days earlier she had explained what had happened to her in Iraq.
We sat in the living room on a Wednesday evening. I was lying on the rug working on a paper for Language Arts, and Jenna was reading in the rocking chair. Mom’s head was on Dad’s lap, her long, red hair draped over his knees.
From the moment she got home I had been pestering her to tell us about the bombing. I wanted to know if the reporters on the news were telling the truth about Iraq, about the violence. We had a primary source in our midst. I thought we should take advantage of it. But she didn’t want to then. “Sometime I’ll tell you about it,” she kept saying. She wanted to forget about it for a while, I think.
As I was writing my paper, Mom’s head popped up from Dad’s lap. She had that look in her eye. The look that let us know she was about to say something important. “Do you want to hear about what happened over there?” she asked.
I looked at Jenna, and then at Dad. “Yeah,” I said. “If you want to tell us.” Jenna nodded slightly and Dad perked up with wide eyes, his hair a mess, waiting for our reaction.
Mom scooted to the edge of the couch and put her elbows on her knees, like my kindergarten teacher used to do when she told us a story. Then Mom began, “Well, I was stationed in Baghdad, as you know. I was working in a hospital in the middle of the Green Zone.”
“That’s the blocked off section in the city that’s supposed to be safe, right?” I had read about it on the Internet.
“Yeah. That’s right. I’m impressed, Tim.” I smiled. “It’s about four square miles or so. It’s where Saddam Hussein’s palace used to be, which has been turned into the headquarters of the new government, if you can call it a government,” she said sarcastically. “The U.S. Embassy is also there and until recently it was considered one of the safest places in Baghdad, especially for Americans. I mean, we hardly ever wore body armor because we felt so secure. But then Iraqis started targeting the Green Zone with rockets and bombs, and that’s how we got hit.
“It was a regular day. I was in the hospital, tending to wounded soldiers, when the explosions starting happening. It all must have happened in a matter of seconds because there wasn’t time for any of us to get down to the bomb shelter. The next explosion I didn’t hear at all. I just felt it. It tossed me across the room. There was fire all around me. My leg must have hit the wall pretty sharply. The pain in my leg, shoulder, and face was unbearable. With the little strength I had, I pulled myself over to the closest bed to check on one of my patients, but when I reached out my hand to grab his, there was no one there. I must have blacked out after that because that is the last thing I remember—my empty hand dropping to the floor.
“When I woke up I was in a make shift hospital under a camouflage tent, hooked up to a million wires and tubes.”
None of us knew what to say. Dad was rubbing my mom’s back. I could see tears forming in her eyes. Jenna’s tears were already falling.
Mom continued. “We’re all really lucky, you know? Three people died in that attack and others were wounded worse than I was. One of those who died was a nurse I knew. She was a captain. We got to know each other pretty well in just a few months, but she was one of the nicest, most caring people I have ever met.” She paused for a second to catch her breath. “It’s such a waste.”
I remembered our waitress at the diner in Indiana. Candace. And then I remembered her son. What a waste. “Mom?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, honey?”
“You won’t have to go back there, will you?” It hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment—that Mom might have to do a second “tour,” as they said on the news. The look on her face told me Jenna hadn’t thought about it either. I needed to know.
Mom thought for a second. That worried me. I wanted her to give us a quick, simple, “No.” She didn’t. “I’m in no shape to go back anytime soon,” she said. “Let’s just hope the war ends and we won’t even have to worry about it.”
Jenna sat next to Mom on the patio. They were talking, like she had never left.
“How’s Josh?” I heard Mom ask Jenna.
“Good. Prom’s coming up, you know.”
“I know. When are we going dress shopping?”
I tuned out at about that time. I was getting a headache from staring at the weeds all day.
“When can we eat?” I asked Dad.
“We can eat now if you want. I’ll throw some burgers on the grill.” The burgers tasted good. Juicy and done just right. Dad had outdone himself.
“These are really good, Dad,” Jenna said. “So much for being a vegetarian.” We all laughed.
“When do you think you will go back to work at the hospital?” I asked Mom.
“I don’t know for sure, honey. I’m feeling better every day, but I still have some recovering to do. Why? Are you trying to get me out of the house?” she said, raising her left eyebrow.
“No,” I said with a snicker. “I’m just curious. You look like you’re doing a lot better, so I was just wondering.”
Jenna put her hand on my head and gave me a playful “nuggie.”
“We’ll see, I guess,” continued Mom. She paused a minute and then changed the subject. “So, where’s Seth been? I haven’t seen him around at all.”
“I don’t know. He’s around, I guess.” While I answered, I looked down at my plate, which was empty.
“Oh, okay.” She must have gotten the hint.
“I gotta go do my homework,” I said. “Tons of math I have to figure out.”
“Want some help?” asked Jenna.
“Yeah, sure.”
“It’s a little too nice out here to be doing homework, don’t you think?” said Dad with a smirk on his face. “How about playing a little catch?”
We hadn’t played catch together the entire spring. “Yeah, definitely!” I ran to the garage to get the gloves and the ball. Jenna and Mom sat back in their chairs and watched.
“Here you go!” The first throw was a slow looping ball, and I caught it easily. I tossed it back to Dad lazily. The ball went back and forth time after time. It was hypnotic. I felt like the whole world was right there in my backyard. I felt the ball slam into the web of my glove. I loved the sound it made when it hit cleanly. It echoed off the wall of the garage.
“Try these out!” Dad yelled. He tossed a grounder right to me. I hardly had to move for it. No problem. He threw another and another. “You’re getting good at those!” he said. “Okay, Derek Jeter. Try this!”
He threw another grounder, but this time he looked in the opposite direction from where he threw the ball. The old head fake. It didn’t matter. I scooted over quickly to the ball and snagged it. “Nice try, Dad!” I said.
Dad put his hands on his hips. He looked like a statue. “Wow. It’s like you knew that one was coming,” he said.
I gazed at the ball in my glove and then glanced at Jenna and Mom who were deep in conversation again. I looked back at Dad. “Yeah. I guess I did.”