Wounded

She said goodbye to each of the guys in turn and wished them a good evening. Unloading the two wheelchairs, she followed John to his apartment. Wordless. "John. I am so sorry. I should never have interfered, but I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting you. I...."

"It's alright, Katie. Just go home now. I'll see you tomorrow."

She cried all the way home, went straight to her room and sobbed some more. That evening her Mom came to her room with dinner. "What's wrong, Katie?"

"I screwed up big time, Mom. And I don't know how to make it right."

"Do you want to talk about it? Can I help?"

"No, I have to work it out myself. But thanks. I'm not hungry. I'm just going to go to sleep and start over again tomorrow." About ten a text came in.

>Katie. Thank you for everything you did in the apartment. You shouldn't have done it. I'll figure out a way to pay you back.

>Don't worry about that. You deserve all that and more. So much more.

>Not sure I agree, but I'm sorry for the way I acted, or overreacted. You were just trying to help. It's just...

>It's Ok, John. I understand.

>No, John. I don't understand. I don't understand at all. But I want to, if you'll let me.

No reply.

WEDNESDAY

Katie, said good morning to each in turn and asked about their evening as they loaded aboard, but her spirit was subdued, lifeless.

She stood up at the front of the high top van. "Guys. I need to talk to you a moment. I'm not very good at this, but I apologize for what I did yesterday. I am profoundly sorry and realize now, that I should never have interfered." She started to tear up. "I took away your opportunity, the opportunity for you all to defend and protect your van mate. Your fellow Marine. I never let you be the men I know you are. 'No man left behind', right?" They nodded.

"I can only imagine it must have felt like Mom stepping in to protect you from the school yard bully. I was wrong, wrong on so many levels. And I promise you, I will never do something like that again. I promise. I let anger, the same anger that many of you have, take over and rule my actions. That was wrong. I never should have hurt him like that.

"I hope you can forgive me. I'm just starting to get a glimmer of what it means to be you. And I am so, so sorry, John. I hope most of all you can forgive me. I am sorry. I've learned a very valuable lessen, but unfortunately at your all's expense."

Crying freely, she turned to go back to her seat, but the men moved forward as a group to console her and tell her it was OK. "Dammit. You guys made me ruin my makeup and I hate makeup. I put in on just for you all. Now get in your fucking seats or we're gonna be late. But thanks."

The group was a little more lively on the way there and she wished them all a great day. John gave her a half smile and headed in without saying a word. He seemed to be thinking.

She headed off to John's. Well, at least he didn't ask for the key back. Holy shit! Everything's put away, the bed's made, the laundry's all done. Maybe I jolted him awake. Guess I'll just make something for dinner and hope that he asks me to join him.

He didn't.

But she did stop by the hospital with a card, letter of apology and a peace lily plant for Homer.

FRIDAY

She talked to each of the gang in turn as they got on and again as they got off. She had made them some cookies to have at lunch time and gave each a bag of them. She talked to John, but he had little to say.

Once they were inside she went in and talked to each of the counselors and then the therapists. They could not share individual information without a signed release from each man so could only answer her many questions in a general way.

At four o'clock she was ready for the next step. "Boys, I hope you had a nice day because we need to have a 'Come to Jesus' talk. No, Abraham, I don't give a shit about the fact rhat you're Jewish.

"The problem is that you ALL STINK! You smell like men. All men stink. All like deodorant and funky clothes and stuff. Unlike we flowers of the field that smell like freshly cut roses." She cocked her head and batted her eyes. "EVERYWHERE, James! Get that shit eating grin off your face. This is serious."

"But, the problem is you smell... but you don't smell like is sweaty men. God. Sweaty men are really gross. I hate it when men get all hot and bothered, although I can't blame them for that, and want to sweat all over me. Gross!

I hate sweaty men so much that I once broke up in the middle of doing the act because the guy was sweating on me! 'Get that thing out of here, pack your stuff and then you get out of here.' Hell, I've had to start dating gay guys because they don't get hot and bothered over me and don't sweat."

She laughed. "No, I actually never did that. Either one. That would be harsh wouldn't it? No gay guys either except as buds. But I digress.

"YOU. ARE. HERE. TO. SWEAT! You are here to get better, stronger, healthier. Healthier in your body, healthier in your mind, healthier in your heart, and healthier in your spirit. If you were doing OK, you wouldn't be here, would you? You'd have busted your hump, maximized your condition and gone home to your wives, girlfriend, family, friends, dog. Whatever.

"But you are still fucking here because the docs don't think you're ready for discharge. And why aren't you ready? Because you're fucking scared. Scared that you're not the same. Scared that your loved ones are not the same. Scared that home is not the home you're used to.

"Well, sorry boys, home IS NOT the home you remember! The world has moved on and you are going to have to figure out where you fit in and what you're going to do.

"You're right! You're different, they're different, the world is different. No way to change that.

"You hated the war. It scared you to death. You were able to deal with it because of your team, your 'Team of Brothers', if you will. They kept you warm. Made you able to feel safe. Took away some of your fear and loneliness.

"You wanted to stay in that protective womb. Hell, it is just like that womb. Babies love it in that safe, warm, protective space. And I don't blame you one bit. Heck, babies like it so much, the little buggers never want to leave. It's not like they come out easily. You should hear the stories women tell. Sometimes they even have to drag them out with forceps or C-sections.

"They hate the fact that they left the womb. Hate it so much that they all start crying as soon as they get out. Those are not tears of joy. Those are tears of loss, change, fear. I may be way off base, here, in my analogy, but I don't think so.

"If you think you're afraid, I can guarantee you that the folks at home feel the same OR WORSE. George, I guarantee you your wife is scared to death that you have changed enough that you no longer need her or the kids. It was one thing when you were overseas. She could deal with it. But you're so close. And the longer it takes for you to go home, the more scared she becomes.

"I may not know about you guys and your thoughts and feelings, but I know about the families. Me, my family, John's family prayed every day that he would be safe. We worried that at any moment the well dressed guys in the black car with a folded up flag in their hands would pull up in front of John's house. It was a cloud over everyone's head. Every day, all the time. Always in the back of your mind.

"You have nightmares? Mine may not be as bad as yours, but I woke up screaming, dreading the worst more times than I can tell you.

"So what's the point of my sermonizing? The point is I want you guys to smell like fucking, disgusting, sweaty men! My goal is to kick your asses off my van and send you home. To make room for the next batch of fucked up men.

"So how do we do that? What is missing in your lives right now? I would bet it's the team, the squad, your 'Band of Brothers'. Well you have a team. It's sitting all around you. Shorty's Van Team. You need to be a band of brothers and help each other. I don't know what you went through. I wasn't there. I can't even imagine.

"But you know what? Your counselors don't know what it was like. They weren't there. The therapists don't know, they weren't there. You all were. YOU know what it was like. YOU know what you're going through now.

"You need to help each other. You need to talk to each other. Think about it. You can only talk about sports and my super fine ass for so long. Talk to each other! Go around the corner and share a beer. Discuss your fears, your nightmares. Fuck! Anything but my ass. Please."

Dead silence.

"Make sense? To help with this I have emailed and texted you a list of everyone's phone number, emails, etc. I have included other critical numbers, like Mother Shorty's, etc. Use them. Use me.

"No, James, not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.

"Please, please. At least think about it? I will not accept 'no' as an answer. When you open your information text you will see that I have scheduled a time to talk to each of you tomorrow to get to know you losers better. So be ready for some tough questions. Dismissed. Have a good weekend. No, make it a great weekend. Do something fun other than watching TV."

There was silence, but then a lot of nodding and murmurs between them. She continued to give John space.

SATURDAY

"So, George. I want you to tell me about your life, your family. Also, if you want, tell me about how you got hurt. What are your fears. What are you worried about when you go home. You know. Whatever you want to talk about.

If you don't want to talk about any of that, then we can talk about anything you want other than how hot I look in these jeans." He laughed. "Remember, I am not a counselor. I have no training. I'm just someone who cares about you and is ready to listen. Now show me a picture of your wife and kids....

Later: "George, you're a hell of a guy. You have to get home. You need to call your wife and discuss these things with her. If you don't want to or don't think you're quite ready, what if I call her and find out her concerns and tell her how much you love and miss her. And how hard you're working to get home. To do that I need you to sign this form.

"Would you call her?"

"Sure." Please, Lord, give me strength. I'm ready to break down and cry now. These poor guys....Seven more, assuming John will see me.

"James. Wassup? Thanks for seeing me. I want you to......."

John declined her visit and request to go for dinner. She cried on the way home. Her Mom noted, but gave her space.

SUNDAY

At 9 AM she pulled up in front of John's and knocked on the door.

"Katie. What can I do for you?"

"I brought my car. I thought we could go to the greenway. It would give us both a break from all the stuff last week."

"I don't know, Katie....I."

"Dammit, John. Quit punishing me! I apologized. I'll do it again if you want. I. Just. Didn't. Understand. I've learned my lesson. I'm dense, but I'm starting to get it. Please?"

"I'm not punishing you, Katie..."

"Then get in my piece of crap car and let's go. I hope you fit. You're so damn big." She put the wheelchair in the trunk.

Later: "Now isn't the greenway great? The sun's out, the birds are singing away. The river is gurgling next to us." She put her hand on his shoulder as they moved along and he started to warm to her touch. "Did you ever watch birds or butterflies, John?"

"What? No. I guess it was always sports, all the time. Except, except for Becky...."

"I'm sorry, John. I still can't believe she did that. I would never have done it. If you were mine, I would have waited forever." She blushed. "I'm sorry, John."

"It's fine, Katie. Did you say you brought some lunch?"

"Sure. Let's find a table somewhere that you can transfer to and sit next to me. Would that be alright?"

"Sure."

As the day wound down they returned to John's apartment. "Katie, thank you for making me go to the park. Would you like to come in for a while?"

"Sure, I'd love to John. But as much as I'd like to, I can't stay too long. I have to call some of the families. Holy crap, John. The place is spotless. Do you even live here?"

"Well, after all your hard work, I felt I needed to keep it up. Here, I want to show you some stuff." He wheeled to the parallel bars, grasped the ends of the bars, glided from his chair. He started lifting his body over and over, bent at the waist...

"That's incredible, John. I'm glad to see you're putting those big old arms of yours to work."

Lowering down, he put weight on his legs. He teetered, unstable and started for his chair. Without thought she rushed to help, but forced him to over balance and he toppled forward, pinning her underneath him as they landed.

She looked into his big hazel eyes. "I could get to like this my big sweaty guy." And gave him a kiss. Just lip to lip, but he started to respond, pulling her close and letting his tongue slide between her lips. She let out her breath in a long thankful sigh, quietly and he suddenly jerked back and looked at her. A tear in his eye. And scrambled to get up.

"John? John! I'm sorry. I...I...Is it me? Is it Becky? If you're not interested in me, I'll understand and back off, but..."

"No, Katie. It's all ME! The problem is all me. It's not you. It could never be you. I've always liked you, a..lot. But you were always..."

"Always so much younger? Too young?"

"Yes. But I'm not the man you deserve. I'm no longer good enough. I...Oh, shit. I..." he rolled off, crawled to his chair and effortlessly lifted himself into his chair.

She looked at him in shock, disbelief. Understanding starting to sink in. She walked on her knees and grabbed his hands, pressing against his thigh. "Not good enough for me? Not good enough, FOR ME?

"John, you are more of a man than any man I know. Before your injury, now, forever. I wouldn't care if you lost both legs and all the junk in between them.

"I have wanted to be with you for... well, hell, I don't even remember it's been so long. My nightmare was that you would never come home, even if you were going to be with my stupid ass sister. John! I never felt I would be worthy enough for you to ever notice me and I would just be Shorty Walker forever."

He picked her up and pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again. They kissed long and hard. His hands started to roam. And then he stopped. Dead.

"I'm sorry, Katie. I..."

She got up. "It's OK, John. That was a great start. I don't want you to make a habit of that technique. Starting something and then stopping dead without warning. Hell, now I'm going to have to go home and pleasure myself. Maybe I can find some of my Mom's toys and..."

"Your Mom has that stuff?"

"Heck, I don't know. I suppose she does. Never thought of it before, but she's not like 85 or anything. They must...Damn you John. Now all I envision is her with her legs in the air and my sweaty Dad on top of her, and she's screaming 'Fuck me, Joe!" I'll never be able to unsee it."

"Thanks for sharing, Katie." Laughing. "Every time I see your mom from now on, that's all that I'll be able to think of, too."

"Now don't go getting all hot and bothered over my mom. You're supposed to only think about me that way. Got it?"

"Got it."

"But that's nothing compared to your mom. I heard my mom talking to her and she likes it doggie style and likes it rough. She likes it when he's banging away on her. They even do anal if he's been a good boy."

"Damn, Katie. Where do you come up with this stuff. Hell. Now I can never go home. How will I ever look my mom or dad in the eyes without thinking of that," and laughing. 'I think you need to be in therapy."

"But, you know they're doing something, right? They didn't just do it once for each kid. Right?

"In any event, John. You were standing! You were standing! Is that new?"

In a dumb jock voice he said, "Well, I've been working out, you know?"

"No crap. Your shoulders and arms are huge compared to when you left. So things are getting stronger in your legs?" He nodded. She kissed him again. "John. You just made my week. Keep up the good work.

"I hate to leave, but some of us have responsibilities. I have to start calling wives, family, girlfriends. Lord, how I dread it. But it needs to be done. I have to help the Shorty Van guys get home. And that goes for you too, John. You need to talk to your folks."

"I know. Soon. But not yet. Especially after what you just said." And he grinned.

"OK. Oh, John!" She said it with a big smile on her entire face and hugged him tightly. A quick kiss and she was out the door.

She floated into her house and headed upstairs without stopping or saying anything to her folks who watched her walk by. They looked at each other. Her Mom smiled a knowing smile. Her Dad was clueless.

Her Mom walked up the steps behind her. Katie was staring out the window of her bedroom lost in her own thoughts and jumped when her mom said, "So things are looking up? Wanna talk about it?"

"Yup. Nope."

"Well, I'm here if you need someone to talk to. Do you want some dinner?"

"No, thanks. I have a bunch of tough phone calls to make to wives and families and such. These guys are just so screwed up from the war. I have to help them even though it eats me alive sometimes."

She took her hand and said, "Remember, Katie. You can't make it like it never happened. It did. They're different. You can only grease the skids, if you will, and leave the rest to them. I saw the same thing in the fathers coming back from Viet Nam. Some never really make it back. Good luck with your calls."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Hello. This is Katie Walker. I'm trying to reach Christina."

"THE Katie Walker? Shorty Walker?"

Laughing. "Yup, that would be me. I wanted to talk to you about George..."

"All George does is talk about you and your antics. He seems so much more full of life just in the last week. Do I have to worry about you, Katie Walker."

"Me? No way, Christina! My heart is locked in somewhere else and your George is so true blue I'm not even sure he realizes I'm a girl. He talks about nothing else but you and the girls and how much he misses you.

"Look, I would like to talk to you about him. He has a lot of fears and concerns. I'm sure you do too. I know, kind of, what you're going through. The guy I love just came back in a wheelchair and hasn't even told his folks he's home. So let's share some concerns. How's that sound?......"

It was a long evening.

MONDAY

A half hour after she dropped her gang off she strutted into the physical therapy room wearing a raincoat, gloves, and a hazardous chemical mask and visor with the tubes on either side. She stood watching her crew for a few moments. Two other van fulls of men were there working out and going through their exercises. Everything stopped.

Suddenly, she threw her respirator on the ground and yelled out, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE! You've been here a half hour and none of you even has a bead of perspiration on your brow. WHAT HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT?" All the other men drew near. Who the hell was this little girl yelling at these guys?

"I don't even need these friggin' gloves to touch you. Let's have a little responsive reading like in church. And Sam, I know you have at least seen a church on TV," and the men behind her laughed.

"ALL. MEN.....," and she held out her hand, palm up waiting for a response. "You're kidding me. I must be wasting my time with you numb skulls. Now, once again. ALL MEN....."

"STINK!," they shouted as one.

"That's right! They stink like deodorant and funky clothes. Unlike we of the fairer sex." And she pretended to look demure and fan her face. More laughter from behind. "So what kind of men stink the most....?" And she held her hand out again coaxing an answer.