16. Roman
CHAPTER 16
ROMAN
“What’ve we got?” I asked as the gurneys rolled into the ER.
The war had turned this previously quiet base hospital into a trauma center that saw more patients daily than it had ever seen before. Today was not an average day. We were busier than usual because of a local accident and whatever craziness was going on down range.
“A fucking mess,” Ursula said under her breath as the transport crew rattled off the patient’s vitals and injuries while helping us roll him into a trauma room.
I didn’t disagree with her.
“On my count… one, two, three.”
Alarms blared chaotically.
“Crap! Page surgery, grab six units, and get me a tray. He’s gotta be opened.”
The nursing staff buzzed around me and the patient, a Marine if the tattoos were anything to go by. They draped him over and gloved me in a well-rehearsed dance.
“Scalpel.”
This moment always gave me pause. Cutting someone in half was crazy, but as horrifying as it was, he needed it. I sucked in a deep breath, ran the blade across the guy’s torso and down his side.
“Retractor.”
The hefty metal weight dropped into my outstretched hand, and I worked it into place, cranking it open. Blood spewed from his chest in a gush. I searched for the tear.
“Got it!” I yelled as I shoved my finger into the hole.
“Clamp!”
Ursula slapped the clamp into my palm, and I wrestled it into place, pinching the hole together.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I had my hands in this guy’s chest, massaging his heart. Checking it wasn’t an option at the moment. Not that I needed to bother. I knew who it was, and they could wait.
“Paddles!”
Ursula held out the internal paddles, and I pulled out my hands. The sucking, squelching sound turned my stomach the first few times I did this, but not anymore. It was just part of the job nowadays. One I did daily.
“Come on, Marine. Don’t you die on me. You’ve still got some fight in you,” I urged him as I inserted the paddles and called, “Clear!”
His body jumped, but the monitor stayed the same.
Damn it.
“Fifteen joules,” I ordered, and at the nod from the nurse manning the machine, I called, “Clear.”
His body jerked, and my eyes flew to the monitors. The rhythmic beeping drew a sigh from deep in my gut as the nurse took the paddles from me.
“Get him ready to move when surgery gets here. He won’t make it much longer without it.”
I stepped away and pulled my gloves off as Ursula and the other nurses readied the patient for transfer. I picked up his chart, looking over it as I filled in what I’d done for the guy. His case was like so many others.
His Humvee was the middle vehicle in a convoy. Somehow, all the vehicles in front of him missed the improvised explosive device buried in the road. His vehicle ran right over the IED, flipping the Humvee and setting it on fire.
Everyone else in the Humvee died. He’d been manning the turret gun, and when the vehicle flipped, he went flying. He was lucky to be alive, and he had a long way to go before we could say he made it. He burned over thirty percent of his lower body, with blunt force trauma to the chest and head from debris landing on his chest and hitting the ground without his helmet, which went flying.
According to the records, he barely made it to the field hospital. Once there, he got shoved onto the medical transport to us.
That plane was a freaking miracle in the skies—a flying hospital with a trauma unit and ICU on a C130. That medical team could do nearly everything a hospital could do, and without them, the chances of recovery for some of our wounded, like this Marine, would’ve been next to nil.
“What’ve we got?” the surgeon asked as he pushed into the trauma room with his team.
“A mess,” I said, parroting Ursula’s earlier assessment as I passed him the chart.
Major Owens looked over the chart, shaking his head and chewing his bottom lip as he did.
“Jesus,” he cursed.
My head bobbed in agreement.
He huffed. “I can’t count how many of these I’ve had on my table this week.”
There wasn’t anything to say. I’d lost count, too. It was our sad reality. Not just his and mine, but the reality for all Americans, whether they served for not. This war made us all pay in one way or another.
Dr. Owens tucked the chart under his arm and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Alright, people, get the lead out. This Marine needs an aortic repair, an escharotomy, an osteosynthesis, and God knows what else.”
The surgical team wheeled the injured Marine out the door in a rush, with the surgeon leading the way. The doors swung closed just as my pocket buzzed again.
I rubbed my forehead and pulled out my phone. The screen showed a couple of missed calls and a few texts. None of them were from the person I actually wanted to talk to. All of them from the person I thought would erase who I really wanted in my life.
I was insane. I kept walking down the same path, trying to fix a problem, knowing what I found at the end of that path wouldn’t fix what was wrong with me.
I pulled up the messages and read through them. The first one came this morning as I drove to work. I ignored it, as well as all the ones that came after it. I didn’t really even need to read them. I could’ve recited them without even glancing at them.
G
We were supposed to meet last night. You didn’t even fucking let me know you weren’t coming.
Two hours later.
G
Are you ignoring me?
Then, there were the ones that came in during the trauma.
G
You’re an asshole. You know that?
I don’t need this shit.
If you just wanted a fuck buddy, you could’ve made that clear
But you didn’t. Instead, you led me on. Treated me like a boyfriend.
Well, I’m done.
Don’t bother responding.
Go fuck yourself and lose my number.
The words goaded me to respond. To defend myself, but there wasn’t a defense or even a decent explanation. The only thing I could say was, “Yeah, Gunnar. A Grade-A asshole through and through.”
Gunnar was, is , a great guy. The perfect mix of sexy, sassy, and sweet, and I used him. I told myself it wasn’t the intention, but that was a lie. He gave me an outlet for all the feelings I bottled up.
His sunny disposition made the emptiness I felt after Carson blew me off a little less… gut-wrenching. Plus, he was more than decent in bed, and even though I had Margot to prove orgasms didn’t cure unrequited love, I still bent him over whenever he was willing.
And as soon as we finished and I pulled out of him, guilt, anger, and anguish beat the crap out of me.
Was it cheating if the other person wasn’t aware of your feelings and didn’t return them?
I didn’t know, but it sure felt like it.
“You hurt him.”
My gaze flew toward the barely audible voice. Ursula stood just inside the trauma room door. Arms crossed over her chest. A scowl painted on her face.
“I know.”
“Why?”
I shook my head.
“He’s my friend, Roman. You both are.”
“I know, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
I started to answer, only to stop when the door swung open. The orderlies saved me from digging myself a deeper hole.
She motioned for me to follow her, and I did. Reluctantly.
“Ott! Muller!”
I turned to the voice of the ER Chief, Colonel Timmons. He was on a gurney doing compressions while the staff rushed him and the patient he was working on toward the room Ursula and I had just left.
We shoved the doors open for them, then moved to help.
“I don’t need you, but get to trauma two. We’ve got a trauma coming in. MVC with multiple victims.”
Ursula and I responded at once, “Yes, sir,” and headed to the room next door.
“You’re not off the hook. We’re having breakfast in the morning, and you’re going to talk to me,” she said.
My chin dipped once just as the doors to the trauma room burst open.
We didn’t speak about anything other than the patients on our tables. A constant stream of patients flowed through our trauma room, forcing us to double up patients in rooms and line the hallways with them.
“Alright, take him up to ICU,” I said wearily.
I ached with exhaustion. Drained. Depleted. However, you wanted to say it: I was more tired than I’d ever been. All I wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep for a week or ten.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“I think that’s it,” Ursula said, then she dropped to the floor, her back against the wall, feet tucked up against her butt. “Holy hell, it’s been a while since we’ve had a night like that.”
I nodded, then stepped out of the room, returning with a couple of bottles of water. I held one out to her. She took it, then offered her other hand to me, and I helped her back to her feet.
“Let’s get the hell outta here before they find another patient that’s circling the drain,” I said.
She laughed, “As if either of us would leave. I’m surprised Timmons hasn’t stormed in here and yelled at us to get some sleep.”
“You took the words out of my mouth, Muller. Both of you, get the hell out of here. You’re back on the schedule in less than ten hours,” Colonel Timmons said as he wandered through the trauma room we were in from the one he’d been in all night.
“Yes, sir,” we both said, snapping a quick salute.
“I’m not bothering to change,” Ursula said.
“Same. Let’s get some grub, and you can drill me while I swallow my food.”
Twenty minutes later, we slid into seats at the place we liked off base. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in a base restaurant. The server came by, took our order, and left us alone.
“Tell me what happened. Make me understand.”
“What’s there to understand? We hooked up, and it wasn’t a good fit.”
“But why?”
I sighed, closing my eyes as I scrubbed my hands over my face. I groaned.
“Because I’m hung up on someone from my past, and I can’t get them outta my damned head.”
“Margot’s mom?”
“God, no. Jeez. The best thing she did for Margot was walk away. She had no connection with Margot, even while she was literally connected to the kid. She didn’t get excited when Margot started moving around. No reaction to the ultrasound or heartbeat. She didn’t even give a shit what the baby’s name would be. Literally, no interest. She was a living, breathing incubator.”
“Then who?”
“Someone I’ve known since middle school.”
“And do they feel the same?”
The server returned with our food, and we both ate for several minutes since neither of us got anything during our shift.
After a few bites, I raised my hand to cover my mouth as I whispered, “No clue. He… I don’t even know if he’s gay.”
“You’re shitting me, right?”
I shook my head and shoveled some more food into my mouth, chewing slowly as she stared at me. I knew it was fucking ridiculous. I was hung up on a guy who may not even be attracted to me.
“Jesus, that’s…”
“Crazy? Stupid? Sad? Yeah, I’m aware.”
“How long have you felt this way?”
“Since the day I met him. A bully knocked me to the floor. He helped me up, then stood up for me.”
“A doctor with a thing for heroes.”
If she only knew.
“So, why haven’t you ever made a move?”
I glanced at the two service members who just walked into the restaurant and lowered my voice when I said, “Being… you know… where I’m from was a surefire way to get your head kicked in. Add to that, my dad committed suicide in a heavily religious area of the bible belt, and I had enough to overcome, so I stayed in the closet. Then I went to college, and we lost touch.”
“And you’re still carrying a torch, even though you’ve not seen him since?”
“I saw him recently. First time in ten years.”
“And… Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth.”
“And nothing. We talked like we saw each other a week ago, he met Margot, and Mama was happy, a pig in crap because she got to feed him, and then he disappeared again.”
“Like without warning?”
“No. His unit was here because one of theirs had been wounded. But he cut contact because he’s enlisted.”
“Damn. That’s shitty luck.”
“Yeah. When you invited me to Munich, I had just spent the morning trying to talk myself into getting out and meeting people. The next day, I hooked up with G and, well… I felt like crap because I couldn’t stop thinking about the other person.”
“So why continue meeting up and hanging out?”
“Because, like I said, it’s crazy, stupid, sad that I’m stuck on them. I like G, I really do, but two months into whatever you wanna call this thing between us…”
“Fuckfest. At least on your part.”
“And I still can’t erase the thought…” I continued.
“Wow. That’s gotta be like true love or something,” she said with a chuckle.
“You’re a bitch sometimes, you know that?”
She preened in her seat, her face stretched wide in a grin when she said, “Yes, I know. And proud of it.”
I shook my head at her.
“Now, who’s ridiculous?”
“Not ridiculous. Honest. And now I’m going to be honest with you.”
“I’m not sure I want you to be.”
“Tough. You need to shit or get off the pot.”
“Meaning?”
“Don’t act stupid, doc. We both know you’re anything but. Find out how he swings and if he returns the feelings. If the answer is no, then go out there and find yourself a life.”
“And if he does?”
“Then figure out how to get around the regs and be fucking happy.”
“There’s so much stacked against us.”
“That’s every fucking relationship there is. Are you really going to let regulations get in the way of your happiness? You’ve loved this person for close to fifteen years, if my math is right.”
Nodding, I whisper, “It’s right, give or take a few months.”
“Fifteen years you’ve denied yourself, and possibly them, happiness. We all deserve a happy ever after. Now grab the fucking bull by the horns and go get yours.”
“And if we get caught?”
“What’s more important? Your career or the love of your fucking life?”
“Jesus, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“Why should I? What good does beating around the bush and sugarcoating shit do? Not a damn thing. It’s like putting lipstick on a pig. A useless waste of time because, at the end of the day, it’s still a fucking pig.”
Before I could respond, the waitress appeared.
“Darf es sonst noch etwas sein?”
I looked at Ursula to see if she wanted anything and she shook her head.
“Nein danke. Nur der Scheck,” I replied.
The waitress shook her head then smiled and laid the check on the table before walking away.
“You’re German sucks,” Ursula said.
I shrugged, “I’m aware.”
I tossed down enough cash to cover the bill and waved Ursula off when she reached for her bag.
“I got it. You can get the next breakfast.”
“So, are you going to call them?”
“The last time I saw him, he blew me off, and I’ve not seen or spoken to him since.”
“You do have his number, though, right?”
I nodded.
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Call or text, but reach out. You won’t know until you try.”
I was just too chickenshit to do either. Even if I agreed I should. I didn’t know if I would survive losing Carson forever. As long as I didn’t know, then I had hope, but the minute I let the cat out of the bag and asked that question, all hope was lost.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and Ursula reached over and grabbed it.
“Not here, dumbass.”
“I was checking to see if Mama had texted, asking me to stop at the store,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
“Oh, sorry, here.”
I checked the phone and saw Mama had indeed texted, but she was just curious where I was. I shot off a response and pocketed the phone as I stood. Ursula did the same.
“Get some rest. I’ll see you tonight,” I told her when we got outside on the sidewalk.
“You do the same. After you make that call.”
“It’s fucking Thanksgiving. He’s probably at home with his family.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not doing this while he’s with his family for the holidays.”
“But you don’t know that for sure. Just send him a “Hope you’re having a good Thanksgiving” message and be done with it. If he messages back, great, you’ve got an in, and if not, then you’ll know.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone. You’re never gonna shut up until I tell you I’ve reached out, are you?”
“Fuck tell. Show.”
“Now you’re delusional. I gotta go. See you tonight.”
She waved and walked off. I waited until she got to her car and drove off before I headed to my own. I got behind the wheel and sat there, staring at Carson’s name on the screen of my phone. My thumb hovered over the icon. It would be so easy to press it. I could have an answer in the next few minutes.
My eyes rolled up to stare at the roof of the car. Tears gathered, blurring my vision, and I gasped. Anxiety bordering on panic rushed through me. I tossed the phone into the passenger seat, cranked the engine, and headed home.
Maybe later.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe never.