Becca

by Krystek, Dean

  “Hi,” Becca said, “I’m here to see Josh Martin.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean Bertram Martin.”

  “Whom should I say is here?”

  “Becca Smith.”

  “His mother had mentioned that you would come by. You may see him.”

  “I may see him. Are there people who can’t?”

  “Sometimes our patients have problems with certain visitors.”

  “He won’t have any problems with me. It’s been six months and he’ll want to see me, I assure you. I’ve changed. I hope he won’t mind. Nah, probably not. I know how he feels about legs.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I’ve got to get him out of here. Is he getting better? When will he come home?”

  “I don’t think you’ll do any harm. Mrs. Martin seems to feel you’re just what he needs.”

  “You’re damn right I am. I am his fiancé after all.” Becca smiled. “I’m going to marry him as soon as we can get him out of this joint.”

  “I think his doctor would like to speak with you.” The nurse dialed the phone and moments later, a doctor’s name came over the speakers. “Maybe you’d like to sit down?” the nurse motioned to the waiting area. “The doctor will be right out.”

  “Why can’t I see Josh first?”

  “The doctor will want to talk to you, Miss Smith. Please just have a seat.”

  “What’s the problem? Is Josh that bad?”

  The nurse looked at her quizzically. “That bad? I can’t answer that—but he’s not restrained now if that’s what you mean.”

  “Holy crap. You mean he was? What the hell did they do with him Atlanta?”

  The nurse said soothingly, “The doctor will talk to you. Please, don’t stand. Have a seat. Excuse me.” She answered a phone.

  Becca sat down on a green vinyl couch across from the couple. The woman regarded her momentarily, offering a pleasant smile that masked her pity and curiosity. Becca would never get used to that kind of look, but she learned to ignore them. She prepared herself for the inevitable question, but the woman merely glanced at her husband and then resumed her scrutiny of the floor.

  Becca tapped her foot impatiently. The wait to see Bert had been agonizing. He had made no calls and sent no mail. Carol had only said that her son had returned to the Pittsburgh VA and continued to “have problems.” He did not want to talk—not to his brothers, the doctors, or his mother. He barely acknowledged anyone who spoke to him. He would look, but not speak, he would smile and hold his mother’s hand and let her run her hand through his hair, but he would not speak. Becca was there now because Carol had convinced the doctors that he needed to see her, since they had been so close before he had gone to Vietnam.

  Ten minutes passed before a doctor came into the waiting room and spoke to the nurse, who gestured at Becca.

  The doctor shook her hand. “I’m Doctor Morris, Bertram Martin’s doctor. I’m glad to meet you Miss Smith.”

  “Becca,” she said.

  “Carol Martin really insisted that you see him.”

  “She’s a smart lady. What’s wrong with Josh?”

  “You call him Josh. Why?”

  “He likes that name.”

  “Miss Smith—Becca, would you come with me to my office?”

  “I want to see Josh.”

  “You will see him, but I want to talk to you first. Would you like a wheel chair?”

  Becca shook her head. “No sir. I don’t use them.” She took up her crutch and followed Dr. Morris through a set of doors and to a small office. She sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “All right, what’s up?” She asked.

  “Bertram has been virtually non-communicative since he arrived.”

  “Why?”

  “We don’t know. We are trying to assess that and treat it. He’s just unresponsive, and has been since arrived.”

  “What happened in the Atlanta hospital, why couldn’t it do anything?”

  “To be honest, they just ran out of room and decided to send him here. They did all they could, but…he wouldn’t communicate. Being home, they thought, might be better for him.”

  “How is he? I mean physically?”

  “He is fully recovered from his wounds.”

  “So, when do I see him?”

  “Soon. Did he write to you and tell you what happened?”

  “No.”

  “He didn’t mention his wounds his mother said.”

  “Didn’t know anything about them.”

  “Then you don’t know of his heroics?”

  “No! Josh is a hero?”

  “He’s been recommended for the DSC.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Distinguished Service Cross.”

  “That’s an important medal?”

  “The next highest is the Medal of Honor.”

  “Oh my God. What did he do?”

  “He saved his company from imminent destruction—took command when the officer was killed and led his men through a fight involving hand to hand combat, even after being wounded twice. However, that’s just one incident. In another, he saved his platoon from certain annihilation. We know what happened and so does he, but that’s not what is bothering him. He said he could prevented the attack if he hadn’t been sleeping when it started. In spite of the fact that he may have dozed off, and men were killed, he ended up saving everybody else. He feels guilty that he could not prevent it, and he feels guilty that he couldn’t save all of them.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “But that’s not the issue we’re concerned with—there’s something else he’s not telling us. Something that we don’t know about. You are very close to him I’m told.”

  “Yes, closer than you can believe.”

  “He’s never mentioned you. He rarely speaks at all. He’s just shut himself off from reality because the last time he faced reality he was in a life and death situation. It’s a classical reaction to someone being in combat and having others die—friends, or people you are responsible for and you survive.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Get him to talk and we’ll know more.”

  “He’ll talk to me, doc. If he doesn’t I’ll smack him.”

  Dr. Morris smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend that as a form of treatment.”

  “Who’s talking about treatment? I’ll smack some sense into him.” She smiled, but the doctor saw it was to mask her worry.

  “Do you call him Josh all the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why doesn’t he like being called Bert?”

  “He doesn’t like his name.”

  “He doesn’t like Bertram?”

  “No sir. He doesn’t much care for Leslie, either, which is his middle name. He likes Josh or Alexander. He likes Josh because it has a nice ring to it. He likes Alexander…well, I’m not sure, but I like that name so that’s why he likes it I suppose. So why are we talking, doctor? I came here to see Josh. He needs me. After all, he’s going to be my husband.”

  “You’re engaged?”

  “We will be as soon as he gets out of here. He doesn’t know that yet. I think he loves me, but he doesn’t know it—well, maybe he does know it, but if he’s not talking to anybody right now he’s sure as hell not going to say he loves me. You’ve got to get him out of here. Listen, I know he’s nuts, but he’s not crazy, and I need him.”

  “He’s a very fortunate young man.”

  “You bet he is. I’m a prize. Say, maybe if I remind him that the back seat of my Mustang is still waiting for us, do you think that will snap him out of it?”

  Dr. Morris shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know, but when you mention it to him, we’ll see what happens. Miss Smith, you are quite a young lady.”

  “I’m just me. Seriously, Doc, I need him out of here. We’re salt and pepper.”

  “Salt and pepper?”

  Becca nodded. “I adore him. Do you know what that’s like t
o absolutely adore someone? Do you know what it’s like to crave someone? I don’t mean like I can’t live without him or anything like that, but like…I don’t know…like I’m alive when I’m with him and without him I’m just living. Does that make sense? I can tell you, when he’s around me, I can breathe, but when he’s not, I’m just…I’m just taking in air.” She realized her eyes had teared, and she brushed them with the back of her hand. “Oh, doc, listen to me. I’m talking nonsense. Hey, maybe I’m crazy. Maybe you need to put me in here. Okay? Put me right in the same room as Josh. Don’t let me walk out of here.”

  Dr. Morris smiled and said gently. “You’re not crazy, Miss Smith. Love is a very powerful emotion.” He cleared his throat. “Now, it seems you’ve had rough time yourself recently.”

  “Who me? No.”

  He smiled and shook his head gently. “How recently?”

  “Oh.” Becca chuckled. “Five months, four days and four hours and”—she glanced at her watch—“ten minutes and a few seconds, but I’m not counting.”

  “You seem to have adjusted quite well.”

  “Yeah, well, what could I do? It’s not like I had a choice.”

  “Does he know?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Then she shrugged. “I’ve told him—I mean in letters. But he’s never responded.”

  “It could have an impact on him.”

  “He’s not interested in my legs. A leg is a leg.” She sighed heavily. “Okay, Doc, can we finish here so I can see him? I’ve got to get him talking and if he doesn’t I’m going to knock him silly.”

  “I’ll go with you. Do you need help?”

  “No!” Becca said emphatically. “I’m not a cripple.” She smiled and shook her head. “Well, maybe I should look that word up in the dictionary before I say that. But no thanks, doctor.”

  Together they went out into the hall.

  “Did he ever say something about a girl crying?” Becca asked.

  “What made you say that?”

  “Just before…I mean…sheesh, months ago when I saw him last. He mentioned a couple of times that ‘she cried’. That’s what he said, ‘she cried.”

  “He’s not mentioned it.”

  “And in Atlanta he said he killed someone.”

  “Yes, he made mention of that to the staff there. But he wouldn’t explain.”

  After a short pause, Becca said, “You know, this is really weird; I mean it’s like I’m Van Johnson, only I’m not the one that came back from the war.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you.”

  “Oh it’s just a movie about the war. Not this one—the big one. Van Johnson, Spencer Tracy.” She shrugged. “Don’t mind me. See, I told you I’m crazy.” She stuck her arms out, wrists together. “Put me in a straight jacket, doc and then put me in a room with Josh.”

  Dr. Morris smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think there would ever be an occasion where you would need a straight jacket.”

  “There will be if you don’t get me in there to see him in like the next two minutes.”

  II

  “I’ll go in first,” Dr. Morris said. “Wait right here.”

  Bert sat on his bed. There was a TV in the room and he stared at it. Doctor Morris greeted him, and Bert nodded, but did not speak.

  “How are you today?”

  Bert shrugged and stood up.

  “You’re mother has been here and your brothers. You’ve had a busy month.”

  Another shrug.

  “Bertram, you have a young lady visitor.”

  Bert looked up; his face showed the question he did not ask.

  “Now she says you’ve got to talk to her, and quite frankly, I think you had better, because she’s not going to leave until you do I’m afraid.” Dr. Morris leaned closer to his patient. “Josh,” he said softly. Bert looked at him. His eyes searched the doctor’s face. “You like that name, don’t you?”

  Bert’s face began to soften. His eyes searched the doctor’s face and then traveled around the room as if he was looking for something—or someone.

  “Who are you looking for?” Dr. Morris asked. “I think you’re ready for a visitor.” He turned to the nurse. “Richard, ask the young lady in the hall to come in, please.”

  III

  Becca entered.

  Dr. Morris sat in a chair just inside the door. Bert stood in front of a window that overlooked Oakland and Pitt Stadium. He looked at her. His eyes took her all in.

  “Hey you,” Becca said, trying not to cry.

  Bert didn’t move.

  “What, no hello? No ‘oh Becca, I’m so glad to see you?’ Now, come on, Josh. You gotta talk to me.”

  His mouth curved into the faintest of smiles.

  “It’s me, Becca—Rebecca Abigail Smith—and I’m here because you’ve got to get out of this place. You really do.” Her body trembled. She wanted to rush into his arms, but she felt that he might not expect or want that right now. He was standing too rigid. She felt her heart sink at the change that had come over him.

  “Josh,” Dr. Morris said, “why don’t you say hello?”

  Bert shuffled closer to Becca. He still wore the half-smile.

  Becca sobbed and she put a hand to her mouth. “Hey, you say something to me. Talk to me for crying out loud. And for God’s sake, what was the big idea just up and leaving? You had your mom and me going nuts—” She shot an apologetic glance at Dr. Morris and mouthed the word “sorry”.

  Bert shuffled closer and stopped again. Four feet separated them.

  “My arms aren’t that long, baby, come on.” She held out her arms, supporting herself with her crutch.

  Bert’s eyes looked at her from head to toe, and then said, “Where’d it go, Becca?” He stepped closer.

  Becca let the crutch fall and encircled him in her arms. Her embrace brought him against her. One hand went behind his head to hold it against her, and the other hand clutched at the back of his robe.

  Slowly, Bert brought his arms up and returned her embrace.

  Becca kissed his cheeks and his forehead and his eyes and she looked at him, seeing how he stared at her with that smile. Yet he did not return her affection and that brought tears to her eyes.

  “What’s that matter with you, Josh?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Where’s your leg, Becca?”

  “It’s gone.” She snapped her finger. “Just like that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I mean you always said a leg is a leg. It wasn’t anything special.”

  “Becca,” Bert said into her ear, as if he did not want the doctor to hear, “I want to go home.”

  “Oh, baby, I want to take you home.”

  IV

  “That was a good start, Miss Smith,” Dr. Morris said.

  “Please, Becca.”

  “Becca.” He nodded.

  “What happens now?”

  “You’ve opened him up. Now it’s up to us to get inside.”

  “How long until you can let him out of here? I’ve got to get him out of here.”

  Dr. Morris nodded. “I know. We can’t let a patient out of here, until we understand why he’s in here. Let’s work together. Can you come back tomorrow?”

  “I can stay here, Dr. Morris.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “What time do you want me here tomorrow? What time do you open?” She sighed and shook her head. “What time do you open—that was a dumb question.”

  Dr. Morris smiled. “Be here at nine o’clock.”

  “Maybe I’ll wear something sexy—a mini skirt. No, don’t worry. I’m just kidding. Those days are over.”

  V

  “Hi, Josh. What’s up with you today?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’ve been saying that for a month now. Don’t you think eventually something will be up?”

  He shrugged. “Does it hurt?”

  “Does what hurt?”

&
nbsp; “Your leg.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that’s not there.”

  “Oh. Hurt? No. I do think I feel it every now and then. It’s weird.”

  Bert nodded. “Pete in the next room thinks his leg is attached. He says it hurts really bad. But Pete is crazy.” He smiled.

  Becca was surprised. “Is that your attempt at humor?”

  “It wasn’t funny?”

  “Well, considering I also feel my missing leg sometimes, and I’m not the one in here, I’d say it wasn’t that funny. Maybe Pete shouldn’t be in here.”

  Bert nodded. “I want out.”

  “I know you do.”

  Bert touched Becca’s face. “You’re very pretty.”

  “Thank you.” She took his hands in hers.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Well, because you’re not talking to anybody.”

  “I’m talking to you.”

  “I’m not a doctor, baby. You need to talk to him.”

  “I don’t have anything to say. I don’t know what they want to hear.”

  “That’s not true. You told me something you didn’t tell them.”

  “I did? When?”

  “When you first got home. Remember? On your mother’s porch.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You told me something that upset you pretty good. I don’t want to mention it—Dr. Morris says you have to mention it.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Think, baby.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Ah-hah! It. So you think there is something.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know… I want to get the hell out of here.”

  “I want you to also, and that’s why you have to talk.”

  He sighed deeply and furrowed his brow as if he actually was thinking.

  “See, Josh, you’re holding back. You’re not you. You’re not the guy I said goodbye to. I want that guy back. He’s in there somewhere and we’ve got to get him out.” She tapped his forehead gently. “He comes out, you go home.”

  VI

  “He’s just not like he was,” Becca said to Dr. Morris. “I mean, he was funny, sarcastic, condescending, charming, serious, and affectionate. He’s…he’s none of that now.”