Waiting for Her Soldier (5 page)

I paced back and forth in the room, the small flat-screen TV flashing some reality show with the sound off. It was almost three in the morning and I was still wide awake. I walked to the window and pulled the curtain to the side, peering out into the parking lot and beyond that the highway with an occasional, solitary car driving through the darkness, its bright lights splashing across the pavement before fading as it continued on into the distance.

By now, I knew the route to the hospital by heart, having checked it on my phone so many times, but I couldn’t help checking it again. Then I walked over to the mini-fridge to see if maybe there was something inside to drink. Maybe a little nightcap would put my mind at ease.

I found one of the plastic cups from the motel bathroom and tore off its cheap, plastic wrapper. I emptied two airplane bottles of Jack Daniels into the little cup, then opened my door and walked down the hall to the ice machine. I dropped three small cubes into the golden-brown liquid and swirled it around before taking a sip. The whiskey was cold, but burned my throat as it went down; it tasted good, reminiscent of summer nights just before college, drinking Jack out on Darren’s parent’s back porch well after midnight.

After a few more sips I could nearly feel the tension drifting out of me. My eyelids started to feel heavy as I yawned, taking one last sip of whiskey before letting my body fall backward into the soothing embrace of the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed in the world, but tonight it would have to do. I closed my eyes and turned out the light on the bedside table. There were only a few more hours to go before I would once again be at Darren’s side, and finally I was able to get some well-deserved sleep.

The sharp, jarring noise of the alarm clock woke me up within a couple of hours. It was 7:15 AM and I knew that visiting hours at the military hospital began at 8:30 AM. I had been sleeping surprisingly well, the best rest I’d gotten in over a week, so I hit the snooze button and slept for another fifteen minutes. Then I hit it again. Finally I decided I’d better get up and shower. I didn’t know when exactly Darren would be admitted, but I wanted to be sure that I was there when it happened.

After a quick, hot shower I got dressed and put on some make-up. I didn’t dress up too much, I was going to a hospital, after all, not out on the town, but all the same I wanted to look good for Darren, to be a sight for his sore eyes. But there was nothing I could do about all the weight I’d gained, not with forty-five minutes until visiting hours started, anyways.

I’d put myself on that crazy exercise regimen, but now Darren was coming home much sooner than I’d expected. I pushed my breasts together in the mirror, trying to suck in my stomach, highlighting the good curves and attempting to hide the bad ones. Was it any use? How would he react when he saw me?

Staring at myself in the mirror I could feel my self-doubt coming back to haunt me. Why did I keep doing this to myself? I set my hopes so high, only to watch them crash back down to earth each and every time. I remembered what Paul said about Darren and how much he cared about me, but we hadn’t seen each other in years. Darren spent all those years in Afghanistan staring at my high school picture, but the woman he was coming back to was different. I’d grown up, matured mentally, physically, and emotionally. In a lot of ways I felt better than ever, but I couldn’t get past my bad body image.

Would Darren be able to see who I really was, a woman devoted to him, loyal to a fault, ready to do anything to be with him? Only time would tell, there really was no use fretting about it anymore. I would know soon enough.

I grabbed my keys and my purse off of the bathroom counter and headed out to my car. I still had time to grab a coffee before heading to the hospital; I wasn’t hungry for anything else. My stomach was completely tied up in knots and was likely to stay that way until I heard Darren’s voice and saw his handsome face again.

I walked into the sterile lobby of the hospital, with its varying tones of grey and off-white with accents of teal. It was just past 8:30 AM, but already the hallways were brimming with activity as nurses rushed to check on their patients and the PA system rang out intermittently to page various doctors to the Intensive Care Unit. After taking a left down what I assumed to be the main hallway I found a reception desk and a large waiting room, most of the chairs filled by families there to see their wounded fathers and brothers.

As I waited in the long line, I sipped my coffee, attempting to calm myself down and keep my composure for the rendezvous with Darren that was destined to happen at any moment now. Normally, I found caffeine soothing, and it was a necessary component of my normal workday routine, but on this particular morning it was having a negative effect on my nerves while I stood there, wishing that the people in front of me would finish their business so I could speak to a receptionist.

At that moment I noticed one of the nurses was walking over the reception desk with a pile of papers. I walked over and asked her if maybe she could help me.

“Hi, ma’am, I was wondering if you might be able to help me. Could I ask you what room Sgt. Darren Henderson is in?” I asked sheepishly, putting on a big smile as I attempted to appear friendly and cheerful.

The nurse eyed me back skeptically, a tough-looking woman in her late forties. “Miss, do you think I keep track of all the patients in this hospital? You need to talk to someone at reception.”

I felt my heart begin to sink. I’d walked away from the long line at the reception desk in order to speak with her and at that very moment saw two more people just getting into the line. Desperate, I tried again, pressing the nurse for more information.

“He’s a recently admitted patient. He was supposed to arrive today. I just want to know if he’s here,” I said, hoping to find out something about the situation.

The nurse sighed. “What’s the name again?”

“Henderson, Darren Henderson. He was wounded in Afghanistan, shrapnel.”

The nurse’s eyes lit up. “Have you called about him before?”

“Yes,” I said. “All the time.”

“I remember you. You’ve been calling us up ‘bout three or four times every damn day for the past week. I spoke to you a couple of days ago.”

“I thought your voice sounded familiar,” I exclaimed excitedly. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bother, I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” said the nurse, her voice slightly warmer and the perpetual frown now disappearing from her face. “My man’s serving overseas right now, so I think I know how you feel.”

I could see in the lines of her face that she was truly worried about her husband. I almost wanted to give her a hug, but she really didn’t seem like the type.

“Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

“I don’t know that, miss, he’s not one of my patients. I did see him when he was brought in earlier this morning though, so I know he’s here.”

I hesitated before asking my next question.

“How did he look?” I asked softly.

“He looked alright, better than I would have expected. But I really can’t say much because I don’t know his case very well. But I will say this: I think he’s one of the lucky ones.”

The nurse grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly, yet tenderly. I thanked her and walked back to the line at the reception desk, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as an effect of her soothing words. I was still concerned, of course, but not nearly as much as I had been moments ago. I was still anxious to see Darren, but at least now I could wait in line at reception with my most serious worries somewhat abated. I wanted to be optimistic and hope for the best, but I didn’t want to build up that hope only to be disappointed in the long run. Darren is fine, I thought—
he has to be
.

Eventually, I found myself at the front of the line. Finally, it was my turn to speak with one of the indifferent receptionists who ran the help desk.

“Henderson? Let me check,” said the woman in a monotone voice. She sounded bored, with her job and with her life. I just hoped she’d get me the information I needed quickly; I’d already spent over forty five minutes in this waiting room and didn’t know how much longer I could stand. The woman clicked away at her keyboard for another thirty seconds before finally breaking the silence.

“I’m not seeing anything,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Can you please look again? I’m sure he’s here. One of your nurses told me he was admitted earlier today.”

“It’s a computer, if he was here, he’d be in the computer,” she said rudely. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Listen,” I said, feeling myself start to lose my temper, but trying to remain calm. “I have been waiting and waiting. And I’m not just talking about waiting in the visitors area by the reception desk; I’m talking about months and months and months while my soldier was overseas. He was admitted today, I’m almost 100% positive. If he wasn’t admitted, then there must have been some reason why. Please have a heart about this.”

“Fine, ma’am. I’ll take another look, but if it’s not in the system I can’t do nothin’ about it.”

She started tapping away again, but she looked like she was faking it, pretending to search the database just so she could get rid of me sooner.

“Nope. Nothin’ here.”

“I’m not leaving until I get a real answer from someone,” I said bluntly.

One of the more senior receptionists was just getting into the hospital and she could tell something was going wrong. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was on the brink of making a scene. I would do whatever it took to get me in front of Darren sooner.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” the head receptionist asked in a far friendlier tone.

“I hope not. I’m trying to find a soldier who was just admitted here. His name is Sgt. Darren Henderson. He just came back from Afghanistan.”

“Let me look take a look,” she said, pushing aside the younger receptionist to get at the computer keyboard. The keys tapped and the mouse clicked for what seemed like decades. I waited patiently, hoping that my persistence would finally yield some good news.

“Ok, I’ve found him. He hasn’t been assigned a room yet. As soon as he was admitted he went into prep, and now he’s in surgery.”

“Can I see him?” I asked meekly.

“Not while he’s in surgery, ma’am. Doctors and nurses only.”

“Well, when is he going to be out?”

“Five, six hours. But could be as long as eight.”

“Eight hours in surgery? What are they doing to him?” I asked, the panic in my voice bordering on the edge of hysterics. Was it possible that things were much worse than I’d been led to believe?

“It’s a complicated and meticulous procedure, ma’am. If the shrapnel isn’t removed completely, there’s a risk of infection and that could mean a possibility of eventual amputation.”

My heart skipped a beat as I heard those last words. The receptionist seemed to pick up on my unease, because her next words were more reassuring.

“Ma’am, that’s only if the procedure isn’t performed properly. That’s why it takes so long, our doctors are very careful. We all want the same outcome here, and that’s for our soldier to get the medical attention he deserves. Dr. Williams is the head surgeon on this case, he’s one of the best in the state. Sgt. Henderson is in very capable hands right now.”