by Bev Prescott
“Thank you, Maria. That means a lot. I need your support now more than ever.” She kissed both of Maria’s cheeks. “You came through for me when I needed you most.”
“What are sisters for? You know, most people aren’t cut out to live outside the box. I’m proud of you for doing it. You always have.” She paused. “I’ll tell you a secret. Even though I’m the big sister, I’ve always looked up to you.”
“That’s so sweet, but why?”
“Because of the person you are.”
Isabella hugged Maria with all her might. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, go find Madison. And don’t forget to call me to let me know you’re all right.”
* * *
Isabella pulled into Madison’s driveway. She was surprised to see all of the lights out. It was late, but not that late. She considered coming back in the morning in case Madison was asleep, but she had to see her now, had to apologize to her and beg her to take her back, to make love to her, to hold her while they slept. Madison had to leave in just a few days, and they’d already wasted too much precious time.
Isabella intended not to waste a single second more. She was going to spend every last moment before Madison left for Fort Bragg convincing her that she loved her more than life itself, and more important, she would be right here waiting for her when she came home.
She grabbed her raincoat out of the backseat of her car and threw it on over her dress. The rain had picked up again, and it soaked her through and through by the time she got to the front doorstep. She pounded on the door. Madison still hadn’t answered the door on the fourth series of determined knocks. She was a light sleeper. She had to have heard her.
Isabella went to the garage and peeked in the window. Madison’s car was there. What if Madison didn’t want to answer the door? She had every right to be angry. Isabella would have to try something else. She dialed Madison’s phone number, but it only rang until the answering machine picked up. Isabella left a message.
She went around to the back deck and banged on the sliding glass door near Madison’s bedroom. “Madison, it’s me, Isabella. Please let me talk to you.” She shivered, both from the cold and from panic.
The neighbor’s porch light came on. Isabella had met many of Madison’s neighbors when she stayed there after the fracas with her family over the P-Town incident. Isabella recognized Mrs. Spooner, the widow from next door, as she stepped out onto her deck and yelled loudly, “Isabella, honey, is that you making the racket?”
Isabella moved into the light so Mrs. Spooner could see her. “Yes, it’s me. I’m so sorry I disturbed you. I’m looking for Madison.”
Mrs. Spooner pulled her robe tightly around her body and raised her voice above the sound of the increasing rain. “Well, that’s not possible. As close as you two are, I’m surprised you didn’t already know. She left yesterday afternoon for her deployment. She said something about going early to help get supplies ready.”
“Oh my God, I missed her.”
“You’re drenched to the bone, Isabella. Maybe you should go inside and put some dry clothes on. I have a key if you need one. I’m sure Madison wouldn’t mind. It’s awfully late for you to be driving back to Boston, especially in those sopping wet clothes.”
Isabella couldn’t bring herself to invade Madison’s space. “No, thank you anyway. I’ll be on my way now. Sorry again to bother you.” She moved back out of the light and sat down on the porch steps where Mrs. Spooner couldn’t see her. She whispered to the night, “Oh, Madison, please come home to me.” Isabella would never forgive herself if she didn’t get the chance to tell Madison she’d finally come to her senses. I love you.
But the night made no reply. All she could do was wait.
Chapter 24
The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Isabella dialed Bobbie’s number. She picked up on the second ring. “Hi, it’s me again. I just called to see if you’ve heard from Madison.”
“Yes, we got another e-mail from her yesterday telling us that her unit was going to be out of contact for a while again. They’re deep inside the country somewhere. She said she’s fine and that she’d call or e-mail as soon as she could.”
“Did she mention me at all?” Isabella asked.
“No, honey. You know her as well as I do. She’s keeping herself busy so she doesn’t have to think about you. It’s the way she is. It doesn’t mean she’s forgotten you. If she calls, should I tell her you want to talk to her?”
“No. I’m still worried that it might upset her. I’m not convinced she’ll trust me enough to let me back into her life. I don’t want her stressing over this while she’s over there. If avoiding thinking about me helps her get home safely, I’d rather not.”
“Why don’t you write her a letter or send her an e-mail?” Bobbie asked.
“I could never put what I feel for her into words on paper or a computer. And I’d hate for anything I wrote to be intercepted by someone who might take it the wrong way. I know she can’t be thrown out of the Army for being gay, but the last thing she needs is someone giving her a hard time if they find out she is and they’re not okay with it. When she comes home, I’ll tell her I love her. A face-to-face may be the only chance that I have anyway. I broke her trust, and I want to earn it back the right way. Could you judge from her e-mail if she’s telling the truth about being okay?”
“All she really said was that she misses home. How about if I mention to her the next time she calls that you’ve been asking about her?”
“Bobbie, no. I want to wait.”
“You and Madison are two peas in a pod with your stubbornness, but okay. Take care of yourself and try not to worry. I’ll call as soon as I hear from her again.”
Isabella hung up the phone and crawled into bed. All she could think about was Madison. At least now, after all the time that had passed, she was able to think about her without crying. She drifted off and was startled awake by a dream she couldn’t quite remember. Something bad had happened. The weight of it sat on her chest and made it difficult to breathe. Madison wasn’t okay. Isabella got out of bed and went to the dresser drawer. She took out Madison’s uniform blouse. She’d found it in the hallway of the hospital the day Madison walked out of her life. She breathed in Madison’s scent and clutched the blouse as she cried tears of regret. “Where are you, my darling?”
* * *
Madison listened to the wounded soldier as she tended his injuries. “Death in war is indiscriminate,” he said. “Make the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your number could be up. Just like that. The problem with this war is that the enemy hides among the innocent. This makes being in the wrong place at the wrong time a pretty easy thing to do.”
Madison muttered something noncommittal that she hoped would make the soldier stop talking about death. She wanted nothing more than to be home. Focus on the task at hand, she admonished herself. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, I think I’ll rest for now,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” she said. “Pleasant dreams.” She continued on her rounds to check on patients at the camp in a mountainous region of southern Afghanistan.
The radio that hung on her belt squawked to life. A voice all but drowned out with the noise from background gunfire screamed its message. “We’re coming on the Apache. We’ve got three casualties. The truck they were riding in was blown in half by a roadside bomb. One soldier is dead, another critical, and the third has minor injuries. We’re ten minutes out. Over.”
Madison raced into the surgical tent. She depressed the radio button and said, “We’ll be ready.”
“What’ve we got?” Dr. Jim Barns asked.
“Three incoming. One dead, one critical, one minor.” Madison set the radio back on her belt and scrubbed her hands.
When the chopper landed, the medics rushed the litters carrying the dead and injured soldiers into the mobi
le hospital facility. The experienced members of the team, including Madison, were on autopilot. She had been through this gruesome task before. The first rule for keeping her head under the circumstance was to shut off the parts of her mind and heart vulnerable to the horrors of it.
“Get scrubbed up, now,” Madison said. The rookie, Private First Class Eric Anderson, had only been with the unit for two days. She felt bad for the new medic because he was about to learn the hard way how awful the effects of war could be on the human body. She hoped he could handle it. Then again, he didn’t really have an option.
The dead soldier was brought in first. His eyes were still open. Their vacant stare was unnerving, even though Madison had seen it more times than she could count.
Jim pointed at PFC Anderson. “Show some respect and cover him with a blanket.”
PFC Anderson grabbed a blanket to put over the dead soldier’s body. Madison saw the look of revulsion on the medic’s face. Brain matter oozed out of the dead soldier’s skull. Anderson turned pale, and Madison barked an order at him. “Cover the body immediately and get over here to help cut the uniform off of this soldier we might be able to save.”
In different circumstances, she might have helped Anderson learn how to numb his feelings, but there wasn’t time. He needed to do his job, or lives could be lost due to his wavering.
Dr. Barns called for two units of blood for the critically injured soldier. He was bleeding out, and fast. Blood was everywhere. His left leg was completely gone below the knee. The fractured bones and vessels hung in a tangle of red and white flesh.
When the team cut away his Kevlar vest, Madison saw the source of most of the blood that saturated his uniform and the floor beneath the table where he lay. These were injuries he wouldn’t recover from. He was going to die. A large piece of shrapnel had made its way underneath the vest, ripping his abdomen with wild abandon as it went. Madison didn’t falter at the horrible sight of the soldier’s insides laid open and exposed. She continued to apply regular chest compressions in a futile effort to keep the young man’s heart beating. Dr. Barns ordered that the soldier’s wounds be packed and that he be readied for surgery.
Madison glanced up at PFC Anderson. Every bit of color had drained from his face. His lips were indistinguishable from the rest of his skin. He appeared to be disoriented by the mess in front of him. No one in this situation was allowed to fall apart. Too much was at stake. Falling apart was allowed only after the crisis was over. And then, only briefly, until the next one began. Soldier’s lives were depending on them to hold themselves together. Anderson needed to find his military bearing, and quick. Madison shouted at him, “PFC Anderson, what the hell is the matter with you? God damn it, get a hold of yourself.”
In that instant, the soldier died. The unmistakable feeling of loss sucked the air out of the room. The departure of his soul left a palpable emptiness around them. He was gone, and there was nothing they could do to bring him back.
PFC Anderson’s eyes rolled back as his legs telescoped beneath him. His body hit the ground hard. Madison felt no pity, only anger. Her anger wasn’t for Anderson. It raged because another young man was dead, and for what? She really couldn’t understand why.
What was really being gained by all of this death and destruction? She rarely let herself think about the politics of the war. She never considered it her place as a soldier to do so. But another young man would never again see the places and people he loved.
Ever since she’d lost Isabella, nothing made sense anymore, especially this vicious war. She pulled the latex gloves off her hands. She nudged the medic standing next to her. “Get Anderson the fuck out of here. I need to get some air.”
Madison stepped out of the tent and gazed out at the mountains in the distance that formed the border with Pakistan. But for the barren, rubble-covered landscape that clearly showed the effects of years of poverty and war, the sight might have been beautiful. The snow-covered mountains stood silent and majestic under an emerald blue sky. She sat down on one of the metal chairs outside the tent and took the watch from Isabella out of her pocket. She never wore it for fear that it might get damaged, but she always carried it with her. She tried to relax—tried to forget the unspeakable carnage she’d just witnessed.
She ran her thumb over the face of the watch and thought about the time. Somewhere, Isabella was asleep. It was two in the morning at home. The autumn nights were probably getting chilly. She imagined Isabella under a pile of warm blankets in her cozy North End condo. What she wouldn’t give to be there with her under those blankets. Breathing in the sweet smell of Isabella’s skin, her silky hair loose against the pillows, and their naked bodies entangled without a care in the world as they slept peacefully in each other’s arms. Everything Madison would ever need would be right there in that moment.
Her daydream was short-lived. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors told of more wounded and dead to contend with. What was the point of indulging herself with thoughts of Isabella anyway? Madison was never going to lie next to her again. To dwell on it was nothing short of torture.
Jim came out of the tent and sat in the chair beside her.
“How’s the last soldier?” Madison asked.
“He only has minor injuries. I’m sending him to the hospital in Bagram for an overnight stay just the same. The damage to his psyche could be a problem. The guy witnessed two of his friends die brutal deaths. His uniform’s covered in their blood. That alone is a trauma that may take a lifetime to heal.” He scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “I’m not sure it’s possible for anyone to heal after seeing something like that.”
“We’re all going to go home with emotional injuries that we have to live with forever, aren’t we?”
“I suppose so.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together as though washing away dirt that refused to be removed. “Speaking of which, I’m worried about you. In all the years we’ve served together, I’ve never heard you talk to a soldier like you did to PFC Anderson. You were pretty rough on him. If being in the combat zone is getting to you, you need to let me know.”
“I’m all right, Jim. Just tired—tired to the bottom of my soul.”
“I know what you mean. I need you. You’re a vital part of this unit. Plus, you’re my friend. I want you to be all right.”
Madison slipped the watch back into her pocket. “I’m sorry for blowing up at Anderson. I’ll talk to him. It’s just that no one should ever have to die that way. I’ll never get used to seeing it. Sometimes, I’m not sure whether the sacrifice is worth whatever it is we’re gaining by being here.”
Jim laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the sky. “I often wonder the same thing. That’s a dangerous place to let one’s mind explore for too long, though. It isn’t something we should speculate about. Our job is to put these soldiers back together again so they can go home alive to their families. Whether we agree or not, we have to have confidence in the wisdom of our leaders. Otherwise, it’ll drive us crazy.”
Madison kicked at the dusty ground like Jim had done a moment earlier. “You’re right. I know. I’m proud to be here to make sure that if there’s a chance for a wounded soldier to go home alive, he gets it. That said, there’s such a huge price to pay for the privilege of it.” She paused. She seized the moment to ask Jim about something she’d been contemplating. A stint on one of the Army’s Medical Civic Action Programs might help her get through the rest of her tour. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I need a change of scenery—a chance to see some of the good we’re doing here.”
“Such as?”
“I’d like to volunteer for the next MEDCAP in Zangabar Village.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of my best trauma nurse going on a MEDCAP.” He ran his hand over his face. “Then again, it certainly would be an opportunity for you to see something positive.”
“That’s my point, Jim. The MEDCAPs provide medical care to the local civilians. Most of them have ne
ver seen a doctor in their lives.”
“What if the FST gets caught dealing with a lot of casualties all at once and you’re not here to help me? I never have to tell you what to do. You always instinctively know. Besides, MEDCAP missions can be dangerous.”
“I really think it would help, Jim. I’m only asking for one.”
He weighed his answer carefully. “I’ll agree to one mission only. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep your head in the game. You have to agree to be the first to speak up if you can’t handle what’s going on there.”
She nodded. “Of course, I will. Thanks, Jim.” She stood to leave.
He pointed to her empty chair. “Sit back down, Captain. We aren’t finished talking. You’ve got something more than a MEDCAP mission on your mind. When I came out here, you looked like someone who was missing someone else.” He patted the seat of the chair. “You want to talk about that, too?”
Getting what she was feeling about Isabella off of her chest could be a good thing. She was no different from any other soldier going through the agonizing emotions of missing someone back home. “If you’d asked me that when we were in Iraq, I’d have told you no, you’re not supposed to ask, and I’m not supposed to tell.”
He offered a half-laugh. “I understand. We’ve worked side by side for years under horrible circumstances, but you’ve never talked about your personal life.” She felt him studying her, as if deciding what to say next. “You must be relieved that DADT was repealed.”
“Not really.”
“You can’t mean that, Madison.”
“Yeah, I do. When the policy was in place, there was no question about where I stood with the military. It was simple. I kept my mouth shut and toed the line. If they found out who I really was, I’d be thrown out without a second thought. Now, even though I’m supposedly not at risk for that happening, any number of homophobic jackasses could make my life a living hell if they wanted to.” She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “Things haven’t changed all that much. The people who hated me before still hate me. Unfortunately, a lot of them are in charge, and I’m still hiding both here and at home.”