Becca

  “He’s holding everything inside. Bertram is afraid to show any emotion, Becca. If he shows affection, he’s going to have to let out his anguish, his frustration, and his anger. So he doesn’t show anything.”

  “So why doesn’t he want to show his anguish and frustration and anger?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. He feels safer not dealing with those emotions, so he doesn’t want to deal with any emotions. He can’t feel joy without sadness; frustration without satisfaction—”

  “Love without hate,” Becca said.

  “Yes. We need to have him deal with what it is he’s withholding so he can let his other emotions rise to the surface.”

  “He’s not violent. He’s not a danger to himself or others, right, Doc?”

  “No, he’s not. Actually, he’s very docile. Physically he has long ago healed and he can live a normal productive life.”

  “If we can get him out of here.”

  “Yes.”

  VII

  “When are you going back to school?” Bill asked.

  “When Bert is out of the hospital.”

  “You are devoting too much time to him.”

  “No I’m not. And I don’t care what you say. I’m not getting on with my life unless he comes along with me.”

  “You’ve been through so much yourself you should get out and enjoy yourself.”

  “Really? How? I want to enjoy myself with Josh. He needs me and I’m going to be there for him. If he had not gone off to Vietnam, I know for a fact that, he would have been with me through everything. You know Greg left me and went to California. Josh would not have done that. He’d never turn his back on me and I can’t turn my back on him. I love him. I don’t care if you believe it, like it, or hate it that I do. There’s nothing that gives me greater pleasure than going to see him. The only thing that would give me greater joy would be when he can be himself again—when he can love me again.”

  VIII

  They sat in chairs across from each other.

  “Josh,” Becca said, “I’m tired of bringing the bus in here every day. It’s getting old. I’ve still got my car, but I can’t drive it. I could get it fixed up so that I can drive it, but I want you to drive me so I don’t have to get it fixed up. You can take me to the hatchet man.”

  He nodded.

  “You remember the hatchet man, right?”

  Bert put his hands together as if holding a hatchet and made the motion of chopping a tree. “Oh, yeah. I remember that.”

  “And the last time we were there, remember that?”

  “Yup.”He nodded.

  “What did we do?”

  “We got into the back seat of your car.”

  “Yes, baby. I want to do that again. We need to take care of unfinished business. Doesn’t that sound great?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think I’d like to get into the backseat of your car with you.”

  “You’re damn right you would.” She giggled.

  “I miss you.” His eyes began to fill with tears. This was his first sign of emotion since he had come to the hospital.

  “You do?” She looked over her shoulder at Dr. Morris, who sat in with her and Bert from time to time. He nodded slowly.

  “I miss you to, baby,” Becca said, fighting tears.

  “I...I want to go home, Becca.”

  “I know that, but first you’ve got to tell us what’s going on in there.” She tapped his forehead with her finger.

  He grabbed her finger, brought to his lips, and kissed it. Becca gasped. Bert stared at her a moment and blinked. Then he touched the tear that had begun working its way to her cheek. Then his finger crossed over her lips. Becca puckered and kissed it. He stared her mouth and he leaned forward so his lips were almost touching hers. She puckered and her lips touched his. Bert let out a moan and rested his forehead against hers. His hands went to her shoulders. “She cried.”

  “Who cried?”

  He sighed. “I killed somebody.” He whispered.

  Becca stared at his beautiful, shining eyes. “Baby, you were in a war. You had to kill.”

  He shook his head. “No. Not…her.”

  “Who?”

  “I see her face every time I close my eyes. I can’t fall asleep because she…keeps me awake.”

  “Who, baby, who?”

  “The girl.”

  “Okay, but what girl?”

  He leaned back and put his hands over his eyes. “Oh my God I didn’t mean to do it.”

  * * *

  There was a firefight in the village, and Bert’s squad had taken casualties. Pinned down, they hoped that the helicopter gunships would get there in time before the enemy overran them. In the melee, he had gotten separated from his men.

  When the gunships arrived, Bert prayed that none of his men would be hit, but the enemy was close enough that it would be a miracle if he didn’t suffer more casualties, this time from friendly fire. Bert began making his way to the tree line where he would be less exposed. Just inside the tree line, he suddenly came upon a wounded enemy who lay with his rifle pointed at Bert’s head. Bert jumped to one side, losing his weapon with the impact with the ground. The enemy tried to adjust his fire, but Bert was upon him. Bert kicked the weapon just as the enemy pulled the trigger and he felt something hit him and he felt the familiar warmness of blood, but no pain. He hit the man continuously, and stopped only when his chest flared with pain.

  The man lay still and Bert attacked another man who was rushing toward him. His hands went for the man’s throat and he pushed his thumbs against the base of the Adam’s apple. They tumbled to the ground, with the VC fighting viciously, kicking, and trying to pull Bert’s hands from his throat, as he made gurgling sounds that Bert felt as vibrations against his thumbs. Bert squeezed harder. Hands beat against his face, weak from loss of air; the nails raked against his cheek once, leaving streaks of red. Bert heard someone shouting his name and he realized his eyes had closed. When he opened them again seconds later, he looked down at the VC he straddled, and he began beating the ground on either side of the small, frail body in fury and anguish. Then he could not breathe, as his mouth and throat filled with blood. He felt relieved that now he was finally going to get away from this terrible place. Death would save him. He thought of Becca.

  IX

  Dr. Morris brought his chair closer to Bert and Becca. He remained silent.

  “Josh, baby, tell me who this girl is.” Becca reached out and gently pulled Bert’s hands from his eyes.

  “Oh, Becca.” Bert mumbled. “Oh, God, Becca. This guy—this…Charlie. He tried to kill me. I had to kill him—I hit him and hit him, and hit him. But he shot me.” Bert touched the left side of his chest. “I thought he killed me. But I killed him.” He rubbed his face with his hands again. He did not seem to notice it when Becca took one of his hands in hers. “Then…then there was somebody else—right there in front of me! I…thought...I thought I was going to die, so I attacked. I attacked and I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed so hard. And he fought and kicked and scratched me—” He shook his head and touched his cheek with his right hand. He pulled his hand from Becca’s and used the heels of his hands to rub away his tears. “And…she cried, and I kept squeezing and she stopped crying.” He blinked away his tears and wiped them with his hands again. “I killed her, Becca. “

  “You had just fought for your life,” Dr. Morris said.

  “Yes.”

  “And this girl suddenly appeared. You saw her—no, you saw somebody and you thought that person was going to kill you. You did what anybody else would have done.”

  “But…she was a kid,” Bert stammered. I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears flowing freely.

  Becca soothed him. “It’s okay, Josh. It’s okay.” Becca broke into sobs.

  Bert shrugged. “It’s…horrible. What I’ve done.”

  “You saw the enemy,” Doctor Morris said. “You were wounded, your h
eart was throwing adrenaline into your blood stream, and you were losing blood. You saw the enemy and you reacted as you should have.”

  “But she wasn’t going to kill me.”

  “You didn’t know that. You reacted on instinct. You can feel remorse for what you did, but not guilt.”

  “Oh, Becca, how I need you,” Bert said and he pulled at her until she got up from her chair and planted herself on his lap.

  “You need me? Well Bertram Leslie Martin Junior, I have been suffocating for the last year. Now I can breathe again.”

  Twelve

  “Becca, it’s cramped back there.”

  “Yes.”

  Bert pulled off the road into the hatchet man parking area. There were no other cars. He turned off the engine and rolled down the driver’s window slightly. “Are you sure?”

  “You don’t want to? Tell me you don’t want to, Bertram and I’ll kick you out of this car and leave you here.”

  “And what’re you going to do, drive away?”

  “Damn right.”

  “You can’t drive the car, Becca. You can’t reach the gas pedal.”

  “Ooh, there you go again, insulting me. I have a mind to just get out and walk home. You can take care of yourself.”

  Bert reached behind the seat and grabbed Becca’s crutch. He rolled the window down and tossed the crutch out of the car, then rolled the window back up. He stared at her defiantly.”

  “When I get my leg, you won’t be able to do that.”

  “I’ll pull it off you and toss it outside also.”

  “Twice you insult me. Twice. And I sit here and take it.”

  “Why do you sit there and take it?”

  “Because, Bertram Leslie Martin Junior,” Becca said leaning forward in her seat and taking Bert’s hand in hers and putting her lips within kissing distance of his, “I love you.”

  “You keep saying that,” Bert said after a pause.

  “Ever since that first night when we talked. You—you just—. I’m going to marry you.”

  “I haven’t asked.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” She smiled. “And what about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, I believe this is where the boy tells the girl he loves her.”

  “What boy?”

  She poked him in the chest with her finger. “This boy.” Becca sighed and puckered her lips, causing them to brush against his. “Please say it, Bert.”

  “Say it?”

  “Don’t start.”

  He smiled at her and leaned toward her, his lips touched hers. “Let me speak and don’t you say a word.”

  She smiled and tears formed in her eyes. Bert cleared his throat. “I cannot tell you how much I love you because I don’t know the words. I simply adore you, Rebecca Abigail Smith. I am…I am blessed that you love me.”

  “Really?” Her face displayed her astonishment. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  He cradled her face in the palm of his hand. “I prayed you’d make it, Becca. I did. Hundreds of times. I prayed everything would be okay. And look,…it’s worked out. For once God was on your side.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He paused. “I don’t know why I didn’t say it before—I felt it. I should have said it.”

  “S…say it now, Josh.” She brushed her lips against his, her eyes filled with passion and adoration.

  “I love—”

  Becca’s mouth took the rest of his word. She was against him, her one hand cupping the back of his head as she pushed him back against the window. Her other hand had grabbed the front of his shirt and balled it up in her fist. Her breath was hot and wet in his mouth. She kissed his neck and with what seemed like a great effort, she let him go and then started moving, trying to get into the back seat.

  “Becca,” Bert said, “we don’t have to do—”

  “Oh, yes we do, Josh. We have to. Right now. I’m like so ready!”

  She pushed her seat all the way back and maneuvered around the shifter. Her firm buttocks slid across Bert’s face and she bent over so her head and hands were in the back seat. “Give me a push will ya for Christ’s sake.”

  Bert placed his hands on her buttocks.

  “Come on one-two-three,” she said and started to giggle as Bert gently but with mixed purpose pushed her buttocks and Becca wound up lying on her side in the back seat. She was laughing as she sat up. “Not bad for a girl with one leg, huh.” She pulled her blouse out of her shorts and opened it as Bert watched her. Then she slid the zipper of her jeans down. “Hey, you, don’t watch. Get back here.”

  Bert sighed and managed to maneuver himself into the seat beside her. She threw herself at him, taking his hand, and placing it on her breast.

  She moaned. “Now, Bertram Leslie Martin Junior,” she said, her voice a husky drone, “where did we leave off?”

  The End