Maria Fernandez had cringed when the master chief called her, sure that her husband had been wounded. She had relaxed a little when she realized that it was Will Dobler. Then she was even more worried — about Nancy.
“Master Chief, I’m glad you called me first. I’ll go over and see her today, set up a movie date for us and Milly DeWitt. We’re her support group. We’ll handle it. Tell her before we go out and get any crying jag over with, then have dinner and a movie…. Yes, I’ll call Milly at work and see if she can meet us at Nancy’s place.” She hesitated, wondering if the master chief should be the one to tell Nancy with her two friends there. She changed her mind and closed the talk on a high note about having the master chief over for a real southern crawfish dinner.
Maria put down the phone and frowned. Nancy had been a little better lately after her last problem. She had cut way back on her drinking and refused to have any drugs in the house. For now, that is. Maria made reservations for three at eight o’clock at the Seafood Grotto. Nancy did love good seafood. Two hours at Nancy’s should be enough to get the crying all done. She smiled. She was sure before it was over, all three of them would be crying. At least a little.
Milly offered only a quiet, “Oh, no,” when Maria told her the news. She said good idea about the dinner and movie. She’d be at Nancy’s by six.
Maria had been to several Navy-sponsored forums and talks about how to handle the stress on a family of wounds and MIA and KIA. They had been aimed at wives and even children of Navy personnel. Maria had gone out of a sense of duty, because her husband was in one of the most dangerous jobs in the Navy. Now she wished that she had paid better attention and learned more. She remembered some of it. Should they have a priest or minister there? No, that would be for a KIA notification. That would scare Nancy into an immediate blowout.
Maria called Nancy that afternoon and suggested the night out. It had been over a week since they had done anything like this. Nancy had been delighted.
“I even know what film I want to see. It’s that new one with Andrea Hightower in it. She is going to be a big star for years. Did you see her in Wicked Can’t Hide? Andrea was just fantastic. Now this new one is Where Virgins Dare Not Walk. It has good reviews. Dinner first, right, then the movie. We can get it at the Ken Theatre at nine forty-five. We can eat and run.”
That night at six-thirty, after Maria stumbled through the carefully thought-out way she had worked out to tell Nancy about Will, Nancy blinked once and nodded.
“Well, thank God he isn’t critical. I don’t know how I’d finish raising these kids without him.” Nancy didn’t cry. Not a tear not a wail and no hysterics or storming around the house.
When Nancy didn’t cry, Milly was startled, and then deeply concerned. “This is the kind of injury that the military used to call a million-dollar wound,” Milly said. “It wouldn’t kill you, wouldn’t mess up the rest of your life, but it was serious enough to get you sent home.”
“Master Chief MacKenzie didn’t want to tell me himself, did he? I’ll tease him about that. That rough, tough old coot is a big jelly roll inside.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Well, we have that out of the way, why don’t we go to dinner early? I’ve left food in the oven for the kids. They’ll do fine here until we get back.”
They all splurged with lobster and steak and each one paid her own check as usual. The meal was served well; the background music was delightful; and the lobster was local, fresh caught, and cost a small fortune. Milly watched Nancy for any sign of cracking, any small fissure that might grow and build into a huge cave-in somewhere in the near future. She saw nothing. If anything, Nancy was better than usual. Now she was making plans for what they would do when Will came home.
“How long do you think he’ll be in Balboa?” Nancy asked.
“When Miguel was wounded more than a year ago, he was in the hospital for three weeks, but he had a nasty chest wound that they had trouble with. This wounded leg sounds far less serious. He could be out in a week at the most.”
“Good,” Nancy said. “When he gets home we’re going to go see every one of the San Diego county parks. There are something like twenty of them. We’ll go picnic or hike or swim and whatever the park is about. I’ve always wanted to do that. This is the perfect time.”
“We got up to see the Flower Fields at Carlsbad this year,” Milly said. “We try every summer, but this time we made it. The blooms are gone now, mostly renunculas. Fifty-five acres of them, so many brilliant colors sweeping up this half mile of hill. Amazing, truly amazing.”
They chattered away over coffee and then decided on dessert. The dinner lasted so long they missed the movie they were going to see. Milly was pleased. The whole situation looked to be under control. Nancy was acting hurt and a little bewildered, but seemed genuinely pleased that Will would be coming home soon, maybe within the week. Yes, they had been lucky this time. This was exactly the kind of shock or trauma that might set Nancy off again.
They left in their individual cars, so nobody would have to backtrack. Nancy’s three-year-old Chevy was in immaculate condition. Will kept it that way. She was his newborn and he babied her.
“Take care, you guys,” Nancy said. “We’ll see you next week for our regular dinner. It’s at my place this time. Bye.”
The three women got in their cars. Nancy drove off. Maria waited a minute until Nancy’s car was out of sight, then she went over to Milly’s car.
“What do you think?” Milly asked.
“Not sure, but she sounded good. No wild screaming or ranting and raving. This time she had just cause to get upset, but she didn’t. Seemed to me like she took it well.”
“I hope so. I had the same impression. Maybe we got lucky this time.” They looked at each other.
“Hey, I’ll call you if I hear anything else about the platoon.”
“Yes,” Milly said. “We’ve got to stay in touch.” They both drove out of the restaurant parking lot.
Down the street a half mile, Nancy slowed and pulled to the curb. It was a residential only a few blocks from her home. She put her head on the steering wheel. The tears came in a rush, then the pain and anger stormed out of her, and she screamed in fury and beat the steering wheel with her hands. Wetness streamed down her checks. She couldn’t just sit there. Nancy jumped out of the car and ran down the block fast. She sprinted and didn’t even feel the strain. She sprinted back to the car and began to wheeze and cough and then slammed her fist against the hood. It didn’t dent but her hand hurt so much she thought she might have broken it.
“God damn it, why me?” Nancy bellowed into the night sky. “Why am I always the fucking punching bag?” The second scream was almost as loud as the first one and brought a flash of room lights on the second floor of a house across the street.
Now the exhaustion hit her from the two long blocks of sprinting. She sagged against the car, then opened the door and slumped into the driver’s side.
“Harry’s Place,” she said softly. Nobody knew her from Marilyn Monroe at Harry’s place.
At first she stayed in a booth near the back, drinking quietly and quickly. On her sixth bourbon on the rocks, the waitress asked her if she was sure that she wanted it.
“You’re alone, honey. You have somebody to come take you home? I can’t let you out of here if you’re driving.”
Nancy looked up at her and brushed new tears away from her cheeks streaking the already smudged mascara. She stared back at the waitress and tipped up the bourbon and didn’t lower it until the glass was empty.
“I’ll go call you a cab. The manager is worried about you.”