Becca (27 page)

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?”

“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.”

“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.