Honor Courage Commitment

by Jordan Danzig

  Rivera stretched out his right leg.

  “How are you doing, Ding?” Galena asked.

  “Got my MEB coming up. That should clear me back to the team after they come home.”

  Amanda found an excuse to leave the three of them alone, thinking Rivera did not look as upbeat as he was trying to appear.

  * * *

  The drug intake had been reduced slowly over the last two days and Angel was on the verge of regaining consciousness. Amanda checked his vital signs and reported her findings to Gant.

  He spoke to Galena. “I should warn you that some patients can react quite strongly. They are disoriented and often don’t recall what happened to them.”

  She nervously nodded her understanding.

  “I need to gauge the severity of Angel’s injury using the Glasgow Coma Scale. Amanda, record the scores please.” He stood at the side of the bed. “Angel, wake up. It’s Gant. Can you hear me, Angel? Wake up.”

  Angel stirred, and rolled his head from side to side.

  “That’s it, Gunny. Open your eyes.”

  Angel did so; sleepily and slowly.

  “Good man. OK, score him a three on that one.”

  Amanda noted the score on her tablet.

  “Is that good?” Galena asked.

  “On a scale of one to four, three means Angel’s eyes opened in response to speech.”

  “Thank you.” She took Angel’s hand. “Niltze, Tehuantl,” she said, with an indulgent smile.

  Angel’s eyes widened and he clawed at his throat, trying to remove the tube from his mouth.

  Gant grabbed Angel’s hands and pulled them away. “Angel, calm down. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. You’ve had an accident. Calm down.” Gant spoke in a relaxed tone, but Angel didn’t appear to hear him.

  Galena tried in Spanish. “Ángel, necesitas calmarte.” He thrashed about. She placed her hands on his chest. “Calmarte, calmarte.” He stopped throwing himself around, but was breathing heavily; the ventilator hissing and clicking faster in response.

  “He’s breathing spontaneously too,” said Gant. “Angel, can you hear me?”

  Angel looked at him in bewilderment.

  “¿Entiendes lo que quiero decir?” asked Gant.

  Angel nodded.

  “¿Hablas inglés?”

  Amanda frowned. Nice Spanish, Will, but why are you asking him if he speaks English? Her rudimentary Castilian Spanish was good enough for shopping and dining out on vacation in Spain, but not really up to a medical conversation in the Latin American version.

  Gant placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder. “I’m going to remove the tube from your throat. Do you understand?”

  Angel looked to Galena.

  Gant spoke. “Quitaré el tubo en tu garganta.”

  Angel nodded, and on his next exhale, Gant pulled out the tube, accompanied by retching sounds from Angel.

  “Hola, Galena,” Angel said, his voice little more than a whispered rasp. “¿Donde está ella?”

  He’s asking where someone is.

  “En casa. Ella no sabe todavía.”

  Casa is house. The person is at home? No idea what the rest means.

  “Bueno. No la diga.”

  Hmm. Bueno is good. Didn’t catch the last bit.

  “I was going to score him a one for verbal response because of the tube, but now that he’s managed to speak coherently, albeit in Spanish, I’ll score him four.” He pinched Angel’s arm. “¿Siente esto?”

  Evidently, Angel could feel it, as he rubbed his arm and nodded.

  “¿Cuantos dedos?” Gant said holding up three fingers.

  “Tres.”

  “Bien. Enseñeme dos dedos.”

  Angel held up two fingers.

  Gant placed his hand on Angel’s chest. “OK. You need to get some rest, now. Trata de dormir.”

  Angel closed his eyes and soon drifted off into a natural sleep.

  “Score six for motor response. That gives us a total of thirteen which puts his injury on the borderline between mild and moderate. I want him closely monitored. Sometimes the problems will only begin to show after a few weeks. He’s going to be feeling pretty lousy over the next few days, and he’ll want to sleep a lot. I’ll make sure he’s got a Spanish speaker near him as he seems to be having some trouble accessing his English language skills.”

  “Is that unusual?” Galena asked.

  “For a blow to the head such as he sustained, no.” He touched her on the arm. “And the fact he has coherent Spanish is a promising sign.”

  * * *

  When Amanda looked in on Angel the next morning, Galena was sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, where she appeared to be grading school papers.

  Amanda pursed her lips. She’s really quite attractive. Those cheekbones!

  Galena looked up and smiled. “Hi, there.”

  “Hi,” Amanda replied. “How is he?”

  “He’s been muttering in Spanish for a while.”

  “Is he making any sense?”

  “He does to me.”

  Amanda frowned.

  “I’m sorry, that was a bad joke. Yes, he is talking coherently, but it’s fragmented. He’s said some military stuff I didn’t understand. And he called out O’Malley’s nickname. He said, ‘I’m sorry’ a couple of times . . . and more than once has mentioned your name.” She tilted her head. “Any idea why that should be?”

  She thinks we were having an affair out there! Can’t say I blame her. If my husband was calling out some other woman’s name, I’d be a little miffed too. “Maybe I’m one of the last things he remembers. I was there when he collapsed outside the hospital.”

  “Maybe.”

  Sensing Galena wasn’t buying her explanation, Amanda changed the subject and in a cheery voice said, “I’m going to get a coffee. Can I make one for you too?”

  “Yes. That would be nice. Cream, no sugar. Thank you.”

  Out in the corridor, Amanda sighed and leaned back against the door as she closed it. She turned to head for the Staff Lounge and collided with a small child. “Oh, I’m sorry, pet. I didn’t see you. Are you OK?”

  The young girl, around six years old, stared up at Amanda out of a pair of chestnut brown eyes and asked, “Are you a nurse?”

  Amanda crouched. “Yes, I am.”

  “Are you looking after my papá?”

  “If your daddy’s in here, then yes, I’m one of the people looking after him.”

  The girl shook her mop of unruly, dark brown curls. “Is he going to die?”

  How can she even think such a thing! “We’re doing all we can to help him get better.”

  “Promise me, you won’t let him die.”

  What do you say to a little girl who thinks her daddy is dying? “Sweetheart, I—”

  “Why can’t I see him?”

  Raul appeared around the corner, out of breath. “I’m supposed to be watching over her during visiting, but she’s a handful. You couldn’t take her for a few minutes, could you? I’ve got some files to get up to Admin.”

  Amanda held her hand out to the girl, who shyly slipped hers into it. “I’m sure we can find something to do. What’s your name, darling?”

  “Noa Lana Torres.”

  25

  The next afternoon, Amanda encountered Galena waiting outside the Staff Lounge with Noa Lana.

  “I understand there is no day care facility here,” Galena said. “But would it be possible for someone to sit with Noa Lana for a little while?”

  Amanda said she was about to take a break and would gladly take care of her. Galena settled Noa Lana with some paper and coloring pens and soon the child was engrossed in creating a picture for Angel.

  Amanda asked for a private word with Galena, so they stepped into the hallway. “I was wondering if Noa Lana has been to see Angel yet? She seemed rather upset that she is not allowed to.”

  Galena remained quiet for a moment. “He asked that she not see him this way.” />
  “Look, I don’t want you to think I went behind your back, but I spoke with Commander Gant about it this morning during rounds.”

  Galena folded her arms. “And what did he say?”

  Despite sensing the hostility in the question, Amanda took a deep breath and plowed in. “That even though Angel’s spending much of the time in deep restorative sleep—and when he’s awake he’s still only speaking Spanish—he thinks it could be as therapeutic for Angel as it would be for Noa Lana.”

  Galena stared at Amanda without speaking. Then, with a small smile, nodded and opened the door to the Lounge. “You ready to go see papá, mija?”

  Noa Lana squealed with delight.

  On entering his room, Galena and Amanda stood at the foot of the bed while Noa Lana stole up to her father and regarded him with her dark eyes. She had not seen him in over five months. She was taking him in and assessing the bandage around his head.

  Angel opened his eyes, looked straight at Noa Lana, and a soft smile played across his lips.

  “¡Hola, guapa! ¿Cómo te va?” His voice was stronger, but it still cracked.

  “¡Hola, papá ! Yo soy bien. ¿Y tú? ¿Qué tal?”

  “Todo bien. Gracias, princesa.”

  Galena took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  Amanda recognized the expression dawning on Angel’s face. “Look out, sweetheart, daddy’s going to be sick!” She grabbed a bowl from the stack on his bedside stand and got it under his chin just in time.

  Noa Lana stepped away from the bed, her lower lip trembling.

  “Awwww, don’t worry, honey. It’s just his head settling down. He feels dizzy, like you do when you’ve been spinning around too much.”

  Noa Lana took Angel’s right hand in both her tiny ones. He squeezed them gently. Amanda took the bowl to Angel’s bathroom for disposal in the Dirty Utility Room later. She came back with a damp cloth, wiped Angel’s clammy face, then placed the cloth on his bedside stand. After squirting her hands with antibacterial cleaner, she invited Galena to sit with her at the table.

  A few minutes later, she jumped up when she heard Angel retching again. Her hands flew to her mouth. Noa Lana was holding up a bowl for him. When he’d finished, she carefully set the bowl down on the floor, then reached for the damp cloth on the table. She gently wiped Angel’s face exactly as she had seen Amanda do.

  “Gracias, mija,” Angel said. He shifted his position and settled down to sleep.

  Noa Lana started to climb on the bed.

  Galena admonished her. “No, Noa Lana. You can’t do that.” She held her hands out to the girl and addressed Amanda. “She likes to sleep with Angel when he first gets back from an exercise or deployment.”

  Amanda smiled warmly at both of them. “It’s OK, sweetie. You can get on the bed. Just be very careful not to bump daddy’s head, OK?”

  Noa Lana beamed, kicked off her shoes and with Amanda’s help made it onto the bed, where she snuggled down on Angel’s chest. In his sleep, he must have been aware of her because he placed his arms over her in a protective hug. Amanda brushed away a tear.

  * * *

  Angel was now staying awake for longer periods. Day-by-day he was regaining strength, but still only communicating in Spanish.

  Amanda watched him sleep for a while before slipping a pulse oximeter onto his finger. At her touch, Angel slowly opened his eyes. I thought his eyes were green with brown flecks; now they look brown with green flecks.

  “Hola,” Angel murmured, reaching out. Taking her hand, he gently pulled her to the bed. She sat on the edge and he placed both their hands over his heart. With a sigh, he drifted back to sleep.

  When the door opened, Amanda tried to slip her hand out from under his, but in his sleep, he tightened his grip. Galena entered and Amanda yanked her hand away from Angel.

  “That didn’t take long,” Galena said. “Please, don’t do it, Amanda.”

  “Do what?”

  “Become attached to the man you think he is. It’s an act.”

  Am I just another conquest to him then? “The man I think he is?”

  “Strong, silent—maybe a bit more alpha male than the type I think you’d usually go for.”

  Amanda frowned, that sounded more like a description of Rivera, than Angel. I didn’t see that. What does she mean? OK, maybe he had come across as extremely macho when she first met him, but she’d soon seen a totally different person. One who was kind; the attention he’d paid that little Afghan girl. Now she understood why. Considerate; he’d placed her tatty silk flower in his tactical vest like it was a wedding-day boutonnière. Generous; he’d let her have his sunglasses. Funny; she could even smile about the peanut prank once the embarrassment wore off—and incredibly gentle; the way he’d kissed her that night.

  Is he some kind of Jekyll and Hyde character? Is there an evil side to him? Surely, his daughter wouldn’t have climbed onto the bed to cuddle him, if that were true. And the tenderness she’d shown when he needed to throw up was unbelievable. She even gently wiped his face afterward the way she’d seen me do it. You wouldn’t do that to an ogre, would you?

  “He has a family. He has obligations,” Galena said.

  “Why on earth do you stay with him then, if he’s always trying to pick up other women?”

  Galena recoiled her neck. “I look after Noa Lana when he’s not around.”

  “Look, Mrs. Torres, I don’t know what you think you saw when you came—”

  “Mrs. Torres? I’m not his wife.”

  “You’re not? ”

  “No, I’m his sister. But now I see why you’ve been like a cat on a hot tin roof around me.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s happened before. We don’t look much alike.” Her voice was warm and when she spoke it was with a more lilting accent than Angel’s. “Both our maternal grandparents are descended Aztecs. I inherited all their best features, Angel drew the short straw.”

  There were no similarities other than them both being blessed with high cheekbones, but while they gave Angel a classic chiseled appearance, they lent Galena a mysterious exotic air.

  Amanda raised her eyebrows. It certainly made sense of Angel’s tattoos now. He is obviously very proud of his heritage. Her throat tightened as she gave voice to her thoughts, “So, if you’re not Angel’s wife, why are you trying to warn me off him?”

  Galena’s features hardened. “His wife was killed in an auto accident two years ago when some hijo de puta ran a red light. He was devastated by her death and says he won’t get that close to anyone again.”