Angel of Mercy (8 page)

It was apparent to her that Tim’s assertion that Gerald had been flirting with the nurses was probably based on fact. Gerald was a good looking guy, even in patient garb and was obviously at ease around females. Chelsea knew that it was a first impression, but her initial reaction was that Gerald was a little smooth for her taste. She preferred someone with a little more humility than what she was seeing from Gerald Giacomo.

Gerald was unaware that Chelsea’s initial assessment was anything but good. “So, you were one of the ones that fixed me up. Good on ya’ Chelsea. Thanks. I mean that.” Chelsea answered, “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I was there, but it was Captain McGuire whom you should be thanking. He did most of the work.”

Gerald’s face turned serious. “Well, I’ll do just that if I see him. Truth be told, I don’t remember anything but what felt like a million hot needles being stuck in me and then a part of a bumpy helo ride. After that? Nothing until I woke up here.”

“It’s not too surprising that you don’t remember much. The anesthetic that we gave you has some amnesia qualities to it. You were conscious but sedated.”

“Well, I’m glad that you came by. I wouldn’t have wanted to forget someone as pretty as you.”

Oh brother,
Chelsea thought.
Young Mr. Giacomo is good.

Aloud she said, “I need to let you rest. I’ll come back in a day or two if you would like.”

“Oh, I would like. Anytime. Maybe we could go dancing,” he said indicating his legs that were still bandaged from his ankles to his crotch. Chelsea smiled. “Maybe.”

As she left Chelsea waved back toward the bed. Gerald was looking away by that time. When he wasn’t smiling there was something different about him. Chelsea noticed that his mouth turned down at the corners. Chelsea almost went back into the room to find out what was wrong, but she didn’t. She was sure that it was a trick of the light, or something. Downstairs, Tim Giacomo was finishing a cup of what Glynnis called coffee. It was actually more like road tar than anything else but it was black, hot, and would do until Starbucks came to Bagram. Chelsea sat down next to her friend. “He’s a lot of fun, your brother.”

“He is most of the time. I’m glad that you talked to him. I worry about him.”

Chelsea looked quizzically at Tim. “The infections are all under control. I don’t think anyone is expecting anything for him but a full recovery and a return to his unit.”

Tim tossed his empty coffee cup into a trash can before answering. “It isn’t his injuries, or even the infections that came with them that I’m worrying about. My brother hasn’t seemed the same lately when we talk. He used to be pretty upbeat most of the time. You know, as he was when you first walked in. But he’s been…just different. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

“Tim, do you think it’s the stress of where we are? Anyone would have mood swings under the circumstances.”

“That could be it. I don’t know. Gerald used to write to me, email me, text me, something every three or four days. Then his unit went to Herat on maneuvers. They took some serious shelling from the rebels when they were there. It wasn’t the first, or even the worst, shelling that Gerald and A Company have taken. But it was right after that time out in the field that Gerald’s emails and texts became less frequent. And the things that he did send were different, ya’ know?

Chelsea leaned forward. “Different. Different how?

Tim shook his head in frustration and slapped the table with his hand. “I would tell you how if I could figure it out!”

Chelsea jumped a little and recoiled from her friend. Just as soon as he saw her reaction Tim apologized. “I’m so sorry, Chels. Please forgive me. It’s not your fault. I’m just trying to figure out if something is wrong with my brother. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m cracking up!”

Chelsea put her hand over Tim’s. “It’s okay, Tim. Really. There are a lot of us that are going through a hard time right now.”

Chelsea thought about Wendy Shafer. She wouldn’t tell Tim about her because of the chance that the two knew each other, but the stress levels that Tim was manifesting right now sounded like what Wendy had talked about earlier. Chelsea began to wonder what this war was doing to the survivors, not to mention the casualties.

Two days later, Chelsea went back to visit with Gerald Giacomo again. He was quieter and more subdued, albeit still friendly. She asked if he had seen his brother recently.

“Yeah, he came by earlier. He said that he would be back tomorrow.”

Chelsea wanted to see if she could gather information to explain Tim’s outburst the other day. Additionally she hoped to get to know Gerald well enough to help Tim figure out what if anything had happened to his brother to make him display a personality change.

As Gerald looked away from Chelsea and out the window, she again saw the flash of something in his eyes that she had noticed when she was leaving his room two days earlier. There was sadness there, pain even. She wondered if Tim had been on to something.

“How are you feeling Gerald? I mean really…”

Chelsea’s voice trailed away.
Why would the young man in the bed confide in her?
she thought. She was still just somebody to float platitudes against, rather than share what was real. She was a stranger, really. If her detective work were to come to fruition, she would need a new avenue. She would have to be a little sneaky.

Gerald Giacomo hadn’t answered her question. He was still looking out the window and lost in his thoughts. Rather than be offended by Gerald’s apparent ignoring of her, Chelsea instinctively understood. He hadn’t even heard her, so buried was he in his own mind. She considered taking her leave, but just as she was about to stand, Gerald turned to her.

“Don’t go.”

Chelsea settled in her chair. There was a longing just behind Gerald’s eyes. She was moved by the naked emotion behind his two word request.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Chelsea reached between the metal bars of the hospital bed. She placed her hand over Gerald’s hand and sat quietly. The two members of the armed forces, young in years. though veterans in fact, sat quietly. Gerald Giacomo drifted off to sleep but not before giving Chelsea’s hand an almost imperceptible squeeze.

After that, Chelsea came to see Gerald almost daily. Only when the medical unit was buried under casualties did Chelsea miss a day and even then she had Tim Giacomo take a message to him that she would be by soon.

Little by little, as they became friends, she was able to draw Gerald out. Never quite sure in what mood she would find him, Chelsea rolled with the tide. Physically, he was considerably past the danger point, but that didn’t mean that infections didn’t come and go. He would tell Chelsea when he wasn’t feeling in the pink, but soon she began to recognize the symptoms without him telling her. During those times, she would minister to him with her presence alone.

One day, when he was recovering from a particularly nasty bout with infection, he made Chelsea a deal. The first day that he was able to get clear of the hospital for good, he would take Chelsea to a restaurant that he knew in downtown Kabul. She reminded him that he still had some healing to do but agreed that, when the time came, they would go to the unique restaurant that Gerald had in mind.

Chelsea watched Gerald fall asleep with a smile on his face shortly after they had discussed the plans to get together for dinner. Before she got up to leave, Chelsea took a little personal inventory. She had decided to try to get into Gerald’s head as a favor to Tim. She remembered as she watched the moon cast a shaft of light across his face, her decision to “be a little sneaky.” Now, she regretted those thoughts.

She had grown fond of Specialist First Class Gerald Giacomo. She had moved beyond the nurse/ loyal friend stage into a friendship with the young man. If asked, she couldn’t have said when it had happened, but there was little point in denying that it had happened. She looked forward to getting to know him better. For his sake and her sake as well. Not just as a favor to Tim.

Exactly 66 days after Captain McGuire had removed most of the shrapnel from Gerald’s legs, the young man was declared far enough along on his physical therapy regimen to be allowed off base for an evening. He had turned out to be a man possessed in the therapy gym. Driving his body to, and past, the point of its own endurance he had mostly recovered the dexterity that had been compromised when the pipe bomb and it related detritus smashed into his lower body. He and Chelsea made plans for their night on the town in Afghanistan’s capital city.

Taverna du Liban is located in the north central part of Kabul, not far from the American embassy. Gerald and a few of his buddies had gone there for lunch, and Gerald knew that he would like to return again, but this time for a more formal dinner.

Several Lebanese restaurants have come and gone in Kabul; Taverna du Liban has stayed the course. Tables are laden with mezze (light appetizer dishes) like houmous, tabouleh and Lebanese salad, making it easy to fill up before hitting the grill for your main course. Chelsea allowed Gerald to take the lead. Soon, she realized that the young man’s appetite had not been seriously or permanently harmed by his recent ordeal. He came to the table with a platter-sized plate that was groaning under the weight of the Lebanese feast atop. By comparison, Chelsea looked like someone on a strict diet.

Chelsea smiled at Gerald’s evident enthusiasm for the food. He described the dishes that he was enjoying as he ate them. He told her that Bayd Bel-Banadoora was simply eggs, poached in a tomato sauce. He asked if she would like a taste. Her eyes widened at the marriage of spice and protein. Together they went through a pan of zaatar rolls. Chelsea’s mouth watered as she swallowed the herb and spice infused yeasty rolls. By the end of the dinner Chelsea’s earlier reticence in the face of the bill of fare had given way to a gastronomic pleasure that rivaled Gerald’s.

After dinner, the two young soldiers walked the streets of Kabul. They listened to the sitar music as it cascaded out of the night clubs. They enjoyed an impromptu woodwind concert that was taking place in the park.

“This is really a fascinating city, isn’t it?” Chelsea said as they walked the path in the park and enjoyed the music under the warm moon.

Gerald didn’t answer. Chelsea started to ask the question again but was stopped by the faraway look in Gerald’s eyes. He had increased the distance between them by half and created even more distance by his stare into the distance. Chelsea held her tongue.

He’s gone
, she thought.
It happens every once
in a while. I wonder where he goes.

A couple of silent minutes later, Gerald looked at her and said only. “Let’s go.”

The trip back to the base was mostly completed in silence. Gerald tried to participate in the conversational gambits that Chelsea started, but it was quickly apparent that his heart wasn’t in it. They separated in front of Chelsea’s CHU with a quick hug and a promise to “do it again, soon,” but Chelsea wondered if those were empty words. She went over the course of the evening in her mind but couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer.

He was there…until he wasn’t
, was the extent of what she could gather.

Casualties rained down on Chelsea’s medical team like rain during a Seattle winter. Meaning relentlessly and without a break. Head injuries followed desert-borne illnesses, followed blunt force trauma. It seemed to Chelsea as if it would never end. The fact that it took her mind off of Gerald for a while was small comfort as she treated soldier after soldier and civilian after civilian. The medical team at Bagram Air Base had quickly outstripped the capabilities of the civilian medical centers for most trauma cases, and the beds were full of the sick, dying, and recovering.

Chelsea only became more capable. Soon it was apparent that she was Captain McGuire’s go-to for most of the challenging cases, and even Lieutenant McKay acknowledged Chelsea’s growing confidence and skill set when under the gun of a full ward or a particularly difficult case.

Captain McGuire publically and profusely thanked Chelsea for her help when a horrific bomb blast had nearly taken the right arm off of a young boy’s body. Chelsea had been literally holding the lad’s tendons together while Captain McGuire worked feverishly on his nearly destroyed bone structure. The other nurses held Chelsea in high esteem as well.