Chapter Nineteen
Sloane
I’d been back seventy-two hours and had briefed the men who had been selected for this mission. We were heading out the following morning, so after lunch, I was busy packing my gear. All the while, I planned in my head what I was going to write to Ashley in tonight’s final letter before I went dark for who knew how long. There were already two to her and one to Ryan in their addressed envelopes, ready to go with the next mail drop, but I wanted to get one more done before I left and basically went incommunicado.
I’d sappily poured my heart out in the one I wrote on the plane ride back. Told her how special she was to me, and that if I made it back to San Diego, I would love to see where things went between us.
But I’d been careful to emphasize if I came back and reiterated that she shouldn’t wait for me. I then wrote a letter to Ryan officially giving him custody of Tank if something happened to me. I also told him that he needed to make sure Ashley was taken care of financially, since he was listed as my life insurance and benefits beneficiary.
I trusted my friend would honor my wishes. And prayed it wouldn’t come to that. I finally had someone I wanted to grow old with.
****
Ashley
Thank goodness Monday had been a holiday because there’s no way I would have been able to go into work after leaving the base.
I was barely able to see through my tears to make it home.
Tuesday morning, I woke up early and pulled out the two teaspoons from the freezer I’d had the foresight to put in the night before. With my head resting on the back of the couch, I placed them over my eyes and willed myself not to cry again, lest they stick to my skin like Flick’s tongue on the flagpole in A Christmas Story .
I wondered if Sloane had made it back to his camp yet, and if I’d hear from him again soon. He’d warned that once he left for his mission, not only would he not be able to write me, but he wouldn’t receive my letters either.
I was still going to write to him daily anyway. It’d give him something to read when he got back and would make me feel connected to him by telling him about my day. Like I was still sharing my life with him in some roundabout way.
Last night, however, I hadn’t written to him. He didn’t need to know I was a wreck.
As I pulled the now-warm spoons from my eyes, I decided to make today a good day, so I’d have something positive to report in my letter.
With, albeit faked, renewed energy, I got ready and headed to work. I purposefully put a spring in my step as I walked through the hospital’s doors.
“Hey, Bonnie! Hey, Lenny!” I cheerfully called to the receptionist at the information desk and the security guard who tried to flirt with her every day.
“Good morning, Ashley!”
“How was your vacation?”
I threw them a broad smile. “It was great!” then headed toward the rehab department.
“Good morning!” I exclaimed when I walked into the office with a bullpen of desks where all the therapy assistants did their paperwork. The therapists had offices along the back wall.
My colleagues offered various forms of greetings in return, and Catherine came out of her office with a smirk.
“Well, I don’t need to ask how it went, I can tell by the smile on your face!”
I touched my cheeks with both my hands and realized I was smiling. When Bonnie had asked me about my vacation, the memories of my time with Sloane had flooded my brain, which must have made me smile. I found I liked that idea.
Colin, one of the physical therapist assistants whose desk was next to mine, spun his chair around to look at me.
“So, tell us about him!”
Everyone in the office came closer. Apparently, word had gotten around why I had taken a few days off. I found I didn’t even care.
“He’s…” I dreamily tried to come up with the best descriptor of what Sloane was like and kept coming back to, “perfect.”
Colin clapped his hands in front of his chest and said, “Tell us more. What did he say when he first saw you?”
“Did you meet his family?” Rory, an occupational therapist asked.
Kelly, another physical therapist assistant chimed in. “What were his friends like?”
I answered their questions in order.
“He, um, actually kissed me before he said anything, and…”
Colin interrupted, exclaiming, “Oh my god! I love it!” He then made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Continue. Did you meet his family?”
“No family, but his friends are all really nice.”
Rory wanted to know, “Did you take any pictures?”
I opened my phone and showed her a selfie we had taken before we went to the bar on Friday.
“Wow. He’s hot,” she said before handing my phone to Colin. “You guys make a cute couple.”
Colin looked at the screen and his eyes grew wide. He looked at me, then back at the screen, then back at me.
“ Dayum , girl. If I didn’t love you so much, I might try to steal him from you.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t play for your team.”
His eyebrows went up. “How do you know, did you guys do it?”
Fuck! I walked right into that one.
“Colin! I’m not answering that!”
He turned to look at everyone else and nodded with pursed lips. “They did it.”
I could feel my face turning red.
“Oh my god!”
“Girl, you came in here glowing. Of course you did it.” He chuckled. “I mean, you look like a tomato right now, but you were glowing when you walked in.”
He handed the phone to Kelly, and Catherine looked at the screen over Kelly’s shoulder. They both said, “Aw,” in unison, then Catherine declared, “You guys are adorable!”
I glanced at the photo when I got my phone back and couldn’t help but smile. We were adorable.
“Now I just have to wait until his tour is up to see him again.”
“When is that?” Rory asked.
I shrugged. “He doesn’t know. He said it could be three months or it could be another year.”
Colin wrinkled his nose. “Ew, sorry.”
I felt a frown form on my face, and I let out a deep sigh.
“Yeah, me too.”
That seemed to bring the mood down, and everyone murmured their condolences and dispersed back to their respective desks.
Everyone but Catherine.
My boss laid a manilla folder in front of me.
“You have a new patient. Dan Murphy. Army Master Sergeant. He’s recently moved, and our facility is closer to where he lives now. He hasn’t been fitted for his permanent prosthesis yet, so he’s still using a temporary one.”
I opened the file and read Dan had a hip disarticulation from injuries he sustained over eight months ago from an explosion while serving overseas. My heart sank when I saw it was not far from where Sloane was.
Obviously, working in the Physical Therapy department at the VA, I saw my fair share of military personnel wounded in action. And it wasn’t uncommon for them to have incurred their injuries overseas. But this one hit me harder than it probably should.
Get it together! I am a fucking professional!
I read his treatment notes and saw that he’d had his temporary leg for a month and had been a dedicated patient while learning to use it.
That was promising. Often times when I got a wounded service member as a patient, they were still dealing with the emotional and psychological loss of their limb or mobility. Some were combative, some were depressed, some a bit of both—all normal stages of grief. But they weren’t usually very motivated to do their physical therapy. I’d found patients achieved the best results when they were receiving emotional support as well as physical therapy.
The more I read about Dan Murphy, the more I looked forward to our first appointment later that morning.
~~~~
I walked into the physical therapy room at three minutes to ten and found a man in a plain navy-blue t-shirt and black athletic shorts with a prosthetic leg. He had his hands over his head and was leaning to one side, stretching.
“Are you Dan?” I asked as I approached with a friendly smile.
“Who wants to know?” he grumbled as he straightened and dropped his arms to his sides.
I hadn’t expected that response.
“Well, I do.” I held out my hand and said, “I’m Ashley Youngman, your new physical therapist assistant.”
He eyed me suspiciously but shook my hand.
I wasn’t sure if he was hesitant because of my birthmark, or what.
“Have you even graduated college, Ashley?”
Ah, that’s the problem.
“Well, I received my degree four years ago.”
“You one of those Doogie Howser types and graduate early?”
That made me laugh. “No, I just look young for my age, I guess.”
“So why are you an assistant and not a therapist?”
“Um.” My laugh was nervous. “Because I don’t have enough credits for my doctorate yet.”
“But you’re working on it?”
“Slowly but surely.”
“How many classes are you taking right now?”
“This semester, two.”
“ Two ?”
I wasn’t going to be intimidated and rebuffed him with, “I work full-time, Dan.” Then, the pleaser in me took over and offered, “I’m taking three next semester.”
He looked at me skeptically.
“Well, you’re not wearing a ring, so I doubt you’re married. Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kids?”
This curmudgeon was something else. Still, I knew by reading his file, underneath his gruff exterior was a good man, so I chose not to bristle at his line of questioning.
My automatic reply to the boyfriend question was always, “I’m single,” but this time, I paused. That wasn’t necessarily true anymore, yet could I technically call Sloane my boyfriend?
I decided for the sake of this conversation, I would.
“No kids. My boyfriend is a Marine stationed in the Middle East.”
“You’re dating a jarhead?”
“Yep. I’m only taking two classes and I’m dating a jarhead… I’ll totally understand if you want to ask for a new therapist assistant,” I said cheekily.
“Hmph,” he groused, but his face softened. “We’ll see how you do today.”