Page 103 of A Hero Comes Home

I thought I said no visitors. No, that was back at the mental health unit.

Sally is here.

Mmmm.

Instead of being angry, he felt a calm acceptance blanket him and he sighed himself back to sleep. He hadn’t died after all, he supposed. This time his sleep was natural.

“Captain Dawson! Captain Dawson, wake up. That’s good. Here. Have a sip of water. Just a small sip. How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.”

“That will wear off,” a nurse said.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Should I bring a urinal?”

“Hell, no! Help me to the head.”

After he’d relieved himself and gargled some mouthwash, he let her assist him back to the bed with an arm around his waist. He felt weaker than cat piss.

Once back in bed, he asked, “My wife?”

“She’s out in the hall, speaking with your friend.”

My friend? Sure enough, he listened and could hear patches of a conversation between Sally and Izzie. The traitor. Izzie must have brought her here. Or was it vice versa? Somehow he couldn’t care.

Once he was tucked into the bed and all his vitals taken, the nurse asked, “Is it all right if they come back in?”

He nodded. Might as well get it over with.

“Hey, buddy,” Izzie said, coming up on one side of the bed. He was in uniform and must have come directly from the airport. Last he’d heard, his friend had been stationed at Fort Bragg, waiting to go active in Kandahar. In fact, he should be OUTCONUS by now.

“Oh, Jacob!” Sally came over to the other side of the bed.

Great! She pities me. “What the hell are you two doing here?” Jake asked with more hostility than he was feeling.

Sally winced and Izzie shook his head at Jake’s stupidity.

“Sorry,” Jake said, but then turned on his friend. “Why did you bring Sally here?”

“Hey, I didn’t bring her here. She arrived before I did.”

“I came on my own when I figured out where you were. On my own. Imagine that. Little ol’ me has a brain in my fool head. Fool, for caring enough about you.” She had tears in her eyes.

He felt like shit for making her cry, and he reached for her hand, squeezing. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and he meant it. To Izzie, he added, “You, on the other hand, need to leave us alone.”

Izzie nodded and winked at him. “Bet you’re commando under that pretty gown.”

His friend was impossible.

“How do you feel?” Sally asked, moving to sit on the side of his mattress. He was still holding her hand.

“Okay, but I have to tell you, Sal, I’m not very optimistic about the outcome of this surgery.” He pointed to his left eye, which was heavily bandaged.

She cocked her head in question. “I talked to your surgeon, and he said there was a thirty percent chance of improvement.”

“Yeah. Those odds aren’t in my favor, though, especially with my bad luck streak of late . . .” He shrugged.