April 20, 2013
Bobby
There are two hundred and ten ceiling tiles in my room. You want to know how I know this? Because it’s all I’ve been starring at for the last week since being flown back to the states. Stark, white, boring, God damn hospital ceiling tiles. The door to my room opens and I avert my eyes from the same spot I’ve been looking at since waking up to see the plump middle aged nurse waddle her way into my room, a clipboard in hand.
“How are you feelin’ this morning’ Mr. Timmons,” she asks, just like she has every day, working her pencil across her page as she checks my IV and monitors.
“How would you feel if you lost half of your leg to a grenade,” I grumble. It’s the same answer I’ve always given her and she huffs, giving me an angry look out of the corner of her eye.
Well? What does she want me to say? Oh, I feel great even though I’m missing my left leg below the knee. Yeah.
“The doctor says you’ll be back in therapy this afternoon. I have to check your bandages before you go.” She nods towards my bed, asking me silently to remove the blanket from my leg but I don’t move. I don’t want to look at it. She huffs again and puts her clipboard down on the bedside table, pulling the sheet from my leg and I move my eyes back up to the ceiling.
Waking up in the hospital after the explosion I was so confused. Uclid was there at my side and I’m glad he’s okay. I hadn’t thought I was hurt too bad, looking to my friend and joking with him about why he looked so glum with this sad look on his face. He broke the news to me like a bowling ball smashing through a china cabinet, dealing with my explosion of anger afterwards as I ripped the blanket from my body; seeing the injury myself for the first time.
I can’t help but feel as if my life is over. My life as a SEAL is definitely over. I’ll never run like I use to, enjoying the feel of my muscles working away. I’ll never be the same man. Sure there are those that have carried on with their Team career with an injury like mine, but right now I can’t see myself doing it.
“Come on now, Mr. Timmons. You have to watch me so you can do this yourself.” The nurse tugs on my shirt and I turn my eyes to her, not moving my arms. She tugs on my shirt again and I sigh heavily, shifting in the bed and throwing my right leg over the edge, waiting for her to start her demonstration. I know how to change a dressing, but I’ll let her amuse me for a few minutes.
The sight of my leg disgusts me. It’s red and irritated, not to mention sore. As she pulls the last bandage away I have to grind my teeth to keep the string of curses from spilling out. Of course I have friends who have lost fingers or limbs and have run into service men and women who have, but facing this is another story. Being the one with the bandages is different. I never thought this would happen. Sure, being a SEAL, the danger comes hand in hand, but I just didn’t think it would happen. It pisses me off to no end.
The nurse is fumbling with the roll of gauze and the pain in my chest boils over in anger. “Give me that,” I snap and yank the roll from her hand, ignoring the shocked look on her face.
Twirling the damn material around the stump of what once was my shin, the hurt continues to build, tightening my chest as tears waver on the edge from spilling over. I am not going to cry, at least not in front of this pudgy woman. All I need is for her to go out and gossip about the hard ass that broke down in front of her.
After finishing the bandage, I pull the suspension sleeve over it, tugging it up to hit over my knee while ignoring the ache from the tender flesh. Sliding the simple prosthetic limb from the bedside, I slide it into place and lower myself into the ready wheelchair. “Okay then,” the nurse mumbles, pushing me from the room and heading towards the Physical Therapy wing.
We pass a girl standing in the hall holding flowers in her hands and for a split second my breathing stops. Is it Ellie? As we pass I get a good look at the woman’s face and the sudden hope that had risen in my chest is tampered again by the anger and hurt as I realize it’s not her. It’s not that pretty little thing that I dream about at night when I actually sleep. I haven’t dared to talk to her yet. I don’t want her to see me like this.
I have seen Chad and Reno; they’ve been in to see me a couple of times in the last week. Chad tells me that Ellie is calling and texting Rhea every chance she gets asking for updates on me. I just can’t keep it together long enough to see her right now. I feel like I’m less than a man. Chad has been telling me that seeing those who care about me will bring a better mood into my situation right now. I just can’t. I don’t want to see those questioning and pitying looks in their eyes.
An hour and a half later, I’m walking with the help of support bars gripped between either of my hands as my therapists hands are on my hips, the sweat dripping from my forehead with the pain radiating through my leg. I don’t want to stop. I want to walk and get the hell out of here. I don’t want this damn silver leg with the sneaker attached. I don’t want this pain.
“Alright then Bobby, that’s enough,” my therapist says as I reach the end of the walkway and swing around into the waiting wheelchair. The reconstructed muscles in my leg are screaming and I pull the prosthetic off, hoping for some relief which doesn’t come.
“You did awesome today Bobby. Nurse Shelley will take you to the tub and I’ll see you after dinner.” My doctor waves goodbye as I nod, leaving the room being wheeled by the next pudgy nurse.
Like really? Can’t I have one good looking nurse? No, I’d rather have Ellie. I’d rather have her petite figure, dark short hair and striking blue-green eyes in my presence. Just thinking of her beautiful face makes me close my eyes, trying to live in the day dream. I feel as if I can even smell her perfume, the fruity, flowery alluring scent that wraps itself around my heart. Maybe Chad is right. Maybe if I see her, I’ll feel better.
What will she think? They haven’t told her what kind of injury I’ve suffered, so I wonder what she thinks happened. What if she is disgusted by the half a man that will stand before her? What if this damn metal leg makes her think twice about giving me a chance?
That familiar and seemingly ever present pain in my heart rejoins me as I slide into the therapy tub, letting the soothing temperature and jets sink into my stressed muscles. This nurse is talking to me, but I don’t care. I let her words blur into oblivion as I lean my head back on the edge of the massive tub and stare at the ceiling.
Sometimes it feels as if this is unreal, as if it is a dream and I’ll wake up at any second. The pain, it isn’t real. The hurt in my heart and the hate in my mind for my situation aren’t real. I’ll wake up in my apartment and be able to call up Ellie, taking her out to dinner and a walk along the beach, feeling the sand under my toes.
But that isn’t right. This is real. The pain I’m feeling below my left knee from my strained, reconstructed muscles is very much a reality.
One more bandage change after the tub and I’m left in my room, sitting in the wheelchair by the window to look out over the bustling cityscape. Norfolk is as crammed as bread in a can and it makes me want to see the country. I want the little town of Wakefield to be exact. To drive down the almost bare two lanes with the corn and tobacco fields on each side. I want to smell the fresh air after a slight rain and the dirt on my hands as I help Chad and Harlan put in hay on the farm. I want to be anywhere but here, with my two hundred and ten ceiling tile friends.
“If you stare too long you might creep out the people on the street,” the familiar voice pulls me from my loathing and I swing my chair around to see Chief leaning up against the doorway, his new job attire a striking difference to our usual camo.
He’s got grey suit pants with black dress shoes, a white shirt and black tie. His suit coat is probably out in his government issued car, courtesy of NCIS. As he saunters in, his leader attitude still firmly intact, I can’t help but shake my head at him. Getting married and having a young son still hasn’t dampened his cocky aurora.
“Hey Chief, how’s it goin’?” I wheel my chair over to my bed, hopping out as Chad sits down on the corner of the hospital white sheets, throwing his feet up in the spare stiff chair. Tucking my leg under the thin sheet I can see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I can’t blame him. I’d be curious too if our roles were reversed.
“I’m same as always. The bigger question is how you are?” He gives me a strong look, assessing me with those blue eyes that use to cut through me when we were in training and on missions. Sometimes I can read Chief just by his eyes and I can tell he’s waiting for me to tell him that I’m having a hard time. He can probably tell and I don’t try and hide my disdain any further, sighing heavily and leaning back against my pillows.
“It’s hard,” I mumble, seeing his eyebrows raise and his head nod in agreement. Hard wasn’t even close. Impossible, that was a better word, but I can’t admit total defeat. Admitting defeat would kill what little piece of my SEAL self I have left and I’m clinging to that for dear life. I need that piece of me to get through this shit.
I can tell he’s waiting for me to go on and elaborate as he straightens his tie, clearing his throat lightly and peeking at me from the corner of his eye. He was never one to push unless it was necessary. He knows when to back off and leave well enough alone. That’s what made him a good leader and a good Chief.
“I don’t feel like me,” I have to force out between clenched teeth, the muscles in my jaw tight from the pain in my chest. It hurts even more to admit it out loud. To say the words and realize that this is my life now, there is no going back. As my fists clench at my sides and I focus in on my tattooed forearm I say, “I don’t want this to be me.”
“But it is you Bobby,” Chad says through a heavy sigh, slapping his hand on my shoulder and looking me right in the eye. “I can’t say that I know what you’re goin’ through and I can’t tell you what to feel, but I don’t want to see you like this.” He waves his hand at my slouching figure and I feel the need to sit up straight while being scrutinized by him.
“I need you to see the doctors they want you to see. They can help with the mental aspect of your injury,” he sternly adds, giving me a knowing look. Word must have trickled down that I had refused to see the psychologist. I don’t want them to tell me that I need to take this drug and that drug to feel better. I don’t want to feel like a zombie in life.
“I don’t need to take God damn drugs Chief,” I snap, throwing the blanket off of my leg and pointing to it. “I need my damn leg back.” I can feel the heat reaching my skin, turning my neck and face red. The anger that I’ve been trying to hold back feels like it’s going to rip through my chest like an Alien as I stare at my friend, Chad. My one time Chief. My one time and never to be again SEAL brother.
“Snap out of it Timmons,” he raises his voice, his blue eyes baring down on me as he stands, moving to the side of the bed. “You’re not the only damn man who’s been through this. This happens every day and whether you want to admit it or not, being a SEAL, you go out there knowing that this is a possible outcome because that’s what we do.” His stare was trying to force the truth into my mind and I turn my face away, looking out the window and trying to not be here.
The hurt and reality of my life is pressing down on my chest, taking my breathing to heavy and labored as I fight the tears that try and take over. I’m not a bitch, I don’t want to cry. I’m focusing in on the sounds of the city outside my sterile hospital room when Chad’s fist connects with my chest, taking my breath away and spilling my anger over the edge it was teetering on.
“What the hell do you want me to say Chief,” I yell, turning on him in full blown rage mode, grabbing his dress shirt in my hands and balling the material in clenched fingers. “What. The. Fuck. Do you want me to do? Tell you I don’t want to live like this, because I don’t. I don’t want to be the man kids stare at as I walk down the street. I don’t want to be the friend that everyone pities. Fuck that.” I shove him back, wiping at the stream of moisture running down my heated cheeks and seeing the turmoil run over Chad’s face.
“No one is going to pity you Bobby,” he yells right back, getting only inches away from my face, poking his finger into my chest. “You need to realize that you’re a hero. You saved the lives of your SEAL brother and over ten Grunts. They would have died if you hadn’t stepped up. Don’t you realize that?” He stepped back and scraped his hand back through his graying hair, scratching over his beard as I can tell he’s trying to rein in his anger.
The door to my room cracks open and the pudgy nurse from this morning pokes her head in, barely getting out a “Is everything okay in here” before both Chad and I yell at her to get out and she disappears in a hurry. I know he’ll apologize for that when he leaves and as he turns back to face me, I take a deep breath trying to let his words sink in. I don’t feel like a hero.
Sitting back down on the corner of my bed, he rests his hand on my shoulder. “Just please see the doctor Bobby, they are only here to help.” He squeezes my shoulder, giving me a small smile and he sighs when I nod my head, silently agreeing. I know I need to talk to them; I just don’t want to admit that I need help.
“I’ve already talked to the therapist that helped Rhea with her shoulder and leg and he’s willing to help you.” He stands, fixing his shirt and shoving his hands in his pocket. “Plus I thought it would be a good idea if you came to live with me and Rhea when you’re released.”
“What?” I ask, trying not to choke on the words as my surprise at his statement spills out. Is he serious? “Why would you want me to move in with you and Rhea when I have a perfectly good apartment to live in?”
“Your apartment is on the second floor and if you have been listening to what your doctors have been tellin’ ya, you woulda realized that goin’ up and down stairs too much isn’t recommended.” He gives me a raised eyebrow and I nod my head, mentally cursing whomever he got his info from. That’s Chad. Always able to get what he wants to know.
“And we can make the downstairs bedroom yours. Plus Ellie has been blowin’ Rhea’s phone up wondering about you. She knows you want to tell her what happened, but Rhea says she’s worried sick over you. Seems like Ellie has become attached to you,” he gives me that raised eyebrow, matched with a smirk and I can’t help but smile back, letting a slight chuckle run through my chest for the first time in days.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, resting back against the pillows. It would be nice to have people around me instead of being alone in my apartment, but I don’t want to be a burden.
“Yeah, well,” Chad smiles, clapping his hands together and I immediately know he’s going to say something I might not like. “I’ve already hired a moving crew to get your stuff from your apartment, so, you’re ‘thinking’,” he throws up air quotes as I shake my head at him. “You’re ‘thinking’ is going to have to end in a ‘Well yeah Chief, I’d love to live with you and Rhea. Thanks!’.”
“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” I laugh at him as he smiles, clapping me on the back again.
“My momma tells me that every day,” he jokes.
As we sit and talk, I let the ideas sink in. I’m going to live with my friend Chad. In a quiet, rural area away from all the noise. I’m going to be close to Ellie.
This could work out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ellie
“Where’s Chad?” I ask my cousin Rhea as she’s buckling her squirming son into the back seat of her husband’s Silverado. We are on the way to the usual Saturday dinner between Rhea and her friends, this time being held at Kendall and Harlan’s place. I love being around everyone at the same time. They always have so much fun and after the work week I’ve had this past week, I need some fun.
“He’s workin’ late I guess,” she shrugs but I can see her spare me a quick look out of the corner of her eye and I know she’s lying. I can read Ray-Ray like a book and I wait till she’s in the driver’s seat to give her the laser-beam of skepticism.
She ignores me with a little effort, evident in the red creeping up her neck, turning her attention to backing out of her garage and heading down the road. “Don’t look at me like that Ellie Mae,” she chides.
“Well don’t lie,” I tort back, tapping my fingers on the center console as she turns towards town. She’s not a good secret holder, especially when the person grilling her knows that she knows, and she squirms slightly under my stare.
I turn into the back seat and smile at little Charlie, taking his foot in my hand and hearing him giggle. “Tell mommy not to lie to aunty Ellie,” I coo at him and he laughs, causing a grin to reach my ears as I turn back to Rhea.
“Okay,” she huffs in frustration, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel as we come to a stop sign. Giving me an annoyed look, she sighs again before starting in. “He’s with Bobby in Norfolk.”
Bobby. My heart jumps for a second and I have to grip the door handle to try and ease the tension zipping through my body just at the mention of his name. Since Easter, I’ve felt like my chest might explode at every mention of his name and it’s no different now. My mind goes back to the night at Rhea’s house and the feel of his skin on mine. The way the warmth seemed to seep into my bones when he kissed my hair.
Being free from any drama with Jake has left me countless hours to day dream about Bobby and my heart has filled every second with fantasies. The way his lips will feel against mine when he finally kisses me for real, hopefully. It will probably make me weak. The ways his strong arms will hold me to him and make me feel safe. I crave it more than I should.
“Is,” I choke out and have to stop. Clearing my throat I look out my window trying to blink back the tears that are trying to leak out.
“Is he okay?” No one will tell me how he was hurt, just that he was and he’s healing now. They all shake their heads and tell me that Bobby wants to tell me himself, but I’m dying here trying to prepare myself for what I might face when I see him in person.
Was he shot? Did his hummer hit a roadside bomb? Was he burnt or beaten? I have no idea.
“He’s fine,” Rhea says softly, patting my knee with her soft, warm hand, making me feel a little better. Her blue-grey eyes try and convey that everything will be okay as she peeks between me and the road, but I need to know for myself.
“When is he going to be well enough to see me?” I feel as if I whine the last word, putting my thumb nail in my mouth and nervously biting away on it. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me. That realization hurts and I squeeze my eyes shut as a few tears slide down.
“Actually,” Rhea’s voice lifts in excitement and I wipe at my cheeks, turning to face her as she pulls down her old street headed towards Kendall’s trailer. She sees my tears and rubs her thumb over my skin, smiling sweetly. “Don’t cry Ell, cuz Bobby is comin’ to live with Chad and me when he’s released.” She smiles wide and I’m dumbstruck.
What did she just say? Bobby? Living with Chad and Rhea? No, she has to playing some sick joke. “Ray, this isn’t funny,” I start to say, my tone angry and sharp but she throws her hand up and stops me mid-sentence.
“I know how you feel about him Ell,” she whispers, pulling onto the grass beside Harlan’s old Jeep. Turning the engine off, she sighs, flopping back against the seat and turning towards me.
“It’s the same way I felt about Chad. You want him so bad it hurts, but you don’t know whether or not he wants you back. Every spare second of your time is filled with fleeting fantasies, even when you try not to think of him or haven’t thought of him in a while.”
She hit the nail on the head and as she gets out, I rest my head back and try to compose myself looking up at the grey interior. I do want him so bad it hurts. My chest feels like it’s a wet rag being twisted over and over, wringing the life right out of me as if it were water.
It scares me to feel like this about someone while still trying to get the divorce papers signed by Jake. I don’t want to hurt Bobby in any way. I also don’t want Jake to find out I’m seeing anyone when it does come down to it. I’m afraid at what he’ll do and get away with since he’s a Trooper and everything seems to ‘disappear’ when it comes to him.
Opening my eyes and looking out to the doublewide I remember running around when Rhea and I were little, I see one way that I might have hurt Bobby already. Garth and Brad are leaning up against the railing on the porch, their eyes on the truck where I’m sitting and my stomach starts to do backflips. The slam of the back door brings me from my shocked state and I undo my seatbelt with a shaky hand.
I could kick my own ass for twenty four hours straight about what I got myself into with Garth and Brad. I was stupid and careless. Making my way across the grass I can feel them watching me and I look up to meet Garth’s green eyes, that same old killer smile on his lips. At times I’ll be sitting alone at home or in the dressing room at Subzero and I’ll just beat myself up mentally about that night in Virginia Beach. I can’t take it back.
Shaking off the familiar horrible feeling that comes with the thought of telling Bobby about that night, I smile and wave to Garth, Brad and everyone gathered around the porch. I’ll bite the bullet, keeping my word not to let it get to me too much. I’ll focus on Bobby and the thought of maybe seeing him soon.