Becca

by Krystek, Dean

  “Becca—”

  “All right, I won’t talk about that. What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “I’m catching a nine AM flight.”

  “Wow…I’m coming over this evening. Okay?”

  “Of course.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to go. Oh, one thing…did we…?”

  “Did we what?”

  “You know.”

  He smiled. “Did I take advantage of you? No.”

  She giggled. “Silly, I was going to ask if I took advantage of you.”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Then it didn’t happen. Because if it had it would have been unforgettable.”

  IX

  “Josh,” Becca said that evening as they sat in the Eat ‘n’ Park, “I’m not going to say goodbye, okay? It’s see you later.”

  “I’ll be back in a couple of months.”

  “Yeah, then what? No, I’m not going to say it Josh.” She sighed. “Well, it’s almost ten and I hate to cut our evening short, but I’m about done in.”

  “It’s quite alright, Becca.”

  “No it’s not, but this is what we have to deal with, isn’t it? And tomorrow is my last shot of poison this go around, and then we’re going to wait and see what happens. While you’re getting on your plane, I’ll be lying on a bed with needles in me.”

  “I’ll pray for you.”

  “Forget it.” Becca shook her head. “That doesn’t work. Let’s go.”

  They bid farewell on Josh’s porch.

  “Okay…that was a great kiss,” Becca said. “And I’ve really got to go, so that was a wonderful way to end the evening.”

  “Becca…see you later?”

  She smiled. “Guarantee it, buckaroo.”

  X

  Carol kissed him as he walked into the terminal. “Oh, Bert, you look so nice.”

  Bert hugged his mother and kissed the top of her head. “You look rather fetching yourself, Mom. How’s Becca, I haven’t heard from her in a week or so.”

  “Well, I finally got hold of her family this morning.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s in the hospital again.”

  “Not again.”

  Carol patted his arm. “It’s not the cancer this time, Bert, she’s got pneumonia.”

  “We’re going to the hospital, Mom,” Bert said. “Right now.”

  Upon emerging from the Fort Pitt Tunnels, the city lay before them in the late afternoon sun. On the bridge crossing the Monongahela River, they saw the hospital tower across the Allegheny River on the city’s North side. Traffic in the city slowed them, and but they found a parking spot in the hospital lot and went into the lobby.

  “Don’t start anything, Bertram,” Carol said.

  “I’m not starting anything,” Bert said. He said to the reception desk, “I’d like to visit Rebecca Smith.”

  “There’s only one visitor’s card here,” the lady said.

  “I’ll wait here,” Carol said.

  Bert took the card and rode the elevator to Becca’s floor. He stepped off the elevator and went directly to her room. Barb, Mary, and Bill turned to face him. Bill began to step toward him, but Mary restrained him. Barb stared at him and smiled.

  “Josh!” Becca shouted and held her hands out to him.

  “I don’t want you in here,” Bill said.

  Bert ignored him and went to Becca. He embraced her, and her lightness alarmed him. He had never seen her this thin. Her kisses peppered his lips and cheeks, and she held him against her as if she was afraid he would run away if she let go of him. “I’m sorry how I look,” she said.

  “You look fine,” Bert said, smiling.

  “Liar. I look like shit.”

  “That’s what I meant,” Bert said, trying to force a chuckle, “you look the same.”

  Becca smiled and then let out a thin laugh. “Oh, you really just keep insulting me. I don’t know why I put up with you.” She looked at him as if appraising him. “Hey, look at you in your uniform,” she said, smiling. “And you got your stripes. Bert’s a sergeant now and he’s going to lead men in battle, right?”

  “Yes.” His throat was dry and felt constricted. Becca was pale, but her eyes still sparkled.

  “He’s going to Vietnam,” Becca said, looking at Bert as she spoke. She wiped at her tears and her mother stepped forward and used a Kleenex from the box on the table next to the bed.

  “What…” Bert swallowed, “what’s going on. I mean, you said you were doing okay.”

  “I was, until I got pneumonia. I’ll be out of here in a couple of days. How long’re you home for?”

  “Ten days.”

  “And then…of to the war?” When he nodded, she sighed heavily and said, “I told you we should’ve gotten married or gone to Canada.” She looked at the others. “Everybody, I want to talk to him alone.”

  Bill opened his mouth to say something, but his wife grabbed his arm and nudged him to the door.

  “That means you, Barb,” Becca said. “I know he’s gorgeous, but you have a boyfriend.”

  Barb said with a chuckle, “Well, I’m thinking of trading for a new model.”

  “Get lost.”

  “So, Josh,” Becca said when they were alone, “what do you wanna do when I get out of here?”

  “I’m open for suggestions.”

  “Desert. Stay here with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  She nodded. “When will you come back?”

  “A year.”

  “Ah.” Becca nodded. “Wow…a year. Can’t make it any sooner than that?”

  “Not unless the war ends.”

  “Yeah, like that’ll happen. There’s no other way?”

  “Not if I want to come home alive.” He saw her reaction to that and put hands on her face. It felt hot. He leaned forward, close enough to feel her breath against his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, Becca. I didn’t mean that. I—”

  Her eyes drilled him. “Don’t you dare say anything like that again. Do you understand me, Sergeant Martin?” She spoke through pursed lips. He nodded slowly and Becca puckered her lips and raised her head so her lips touched his, then her head fell back on the pillow. She held her arms out to him and they encircled him and drew him to her. She held him as tightly as she could and kissed his face, and lips and hands.

  “I want you, Josh. I need you.”

  “I know,” he said against the softness of her breast.

  She held his head in both her hands and gave him her patented open mouth kiss that sent shivers through his entire body. She kissed his eyes. Her tongue came out and put little wet spots on his cheek. She let him go and he stood up. “Did I give you a roll of half-dollars?” She giggled, looking at his crotch then at his eyes.

  He smiled. “Definitely.”

  She smiled. “One more.” She puckered her lips and Bert bent forward and felt her arms slip around his neck. His arms went around her and her frailty took him aback.

  When she released him, she giggled. “Okay, we’re done for now? We have almost two weeks ahead of us. Go tell everybody they can come back in here.”

  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 a
t 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. Goddammit.” 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”

  Nine

  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.

  Ten

  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.”