Stephanie/Michelle
I was sitting on a lounger on my back porch. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky. Its rays reflected off the blue water, making it shimmer like glass in the light. I checked my watch. It was 1:13 pm. "Happy birthday, JJ. Momma misses you," I whispered. "You would have been three today." I wiped the tears off my face, then grab the picture frame from the small table beside me. After kissing the picture, I replaced it and stared out at the water.
My little Joseph Jr loved visiting the beach. I often took him to Point Pleasant when I had the time. His father, Joseph Morelli, didn't like when I took our son to play near the water. Joe claimed it was dangerous. I rolled my eyes. Wow, as if I would leave my son unattended. I smarted off at Joe and got a backhand across the face. It was the first of many times that Joe hit me. My ex-husband Joe had forced me to quit working to raise our son. Joe never helped with child-rearing. After all, I was the wife. I had to clean the house, cook dinner by 6 pm and be everything my son and husband needed.
The gentle waves ebbed and flowed like a siren's call begging me to come closer. Something black floated on the water. It bobbed below the waves as the ocean attempted to eject the foreign object from its depths. I removed my sandals and ran toward the water.
It wasn't an object, per se. A man got washed ashore. I rolled the man onto his back as I searched my mind for the lessons in first aid. Okay, I needed to find a pulse. I held his wrist. The heartbeat barely registered. There was no time to waste. "Staying alive, staying alive, oh oh, oh, oh, staying alive," I sang until I got to the count of thirty. I leaned over his mouth to check for a breath.
Gently, I tilted his head back, careful not to cause more injury to his neck. I pinched his nose after I opened his mouth. Then I sealed my mouth over his and puffed air into his lungs five times, taking a break between each breath to draw in more air. I repeated the process a few more times. Thankfully, I didn't break a rib as water bubbled from his mouth. I gently rolled him to the side into the recovery position as they taught during the first aid course.
The man's body shook from shock. I rolled him onto his back once I talked myself into the next step. He couldn't stay under the hot sun. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the video the first aid instructor showed for how to move a body without causing more injury. I dug deep inside to find the courage and willed my muscles to cooperate. I managed to pull him towards my house. Getting him up the two steps was a challenge, but I dragged him into my house, using strength I never realized I possessed.
"You're safe," I whispered when the man moaned. His face looked battered and bruised. I noticed his nose listed to the left. "I'll be right back. I have to grab the first aid kit." The man was slightly relaxed as I trailed my finger down his jaw. His skin felt a little cool from the water. He had rolled onto his back when I returned.
"I'm sorry if this hurts, but I should straighten your nose. It would help you breathe." The man groaned as I pushed his nose back into position. I removed some nose strips from the kit. Using peroxide, I cleaned the skin and patted it dry with gauze. His bloodshot eyes watched as I gently placed two butterfly nose bandages on his face.
"Hey, you're safe," I reminded him as he attempted to push me away.
"Where?" he breathlessly said. It hurt for him to breathe.
"Hawaii. You're too injured to travel. Please, let me take care of you," I begged. The man nodded, then groaned. I removed the scissors from the kit. "Your shirt is sticking to you. I have to remove it before the blood dries." I showed him the scissors, and he let me cut off his shirt.
His chest and abdomen were covered in dark bruises. Some contusions were yellow beneath the fresh ones. It gave the impression that someone had tortured him over several days. Who would do this? I felt his eyes on mine as I cleaned his abrasions. "I have a suture kit. Do you trust me?" I didn't want to do anything without his approval. His hand twitched. I showed him the kit sealed inside the plastic packaging.
The man touched my arm when I showed him the suture kit. "Have?" he asked. I assumed he wanted to know if I had done that before.
"I've learned how to suture basic injuries. I have to close the skin on your arm, chin and abdomen for it to heal." I reached for the bottle of saline. Peroxide would have worked too, but it would dry out the skin. I didn't want to leave the man with deep scars. "We could use this to clean the wounds, or I can get soapy water. It's your choice." He shook his head when I attempted to leave his side. "Saline, it is." I opened the bottle and saturated some gauze. After gently dabbing the skin, I wiped it along the abrasion after determining it didn't contain debris. I pat the area dry before closing the deepest cuts.
"I'm afraid it still might leave a scar." The man watched as I continued treating his abrasions. "I'll be back. I have to wrap your ribs but I don't have anything in my kit. There's a clean sheet in the linen closet."
He grabbed my hand as I stood up. "Thank you, Babe," he whispered. I left to get the sheet and returned.
The man watched as I cut the sheet into strips to wrap around him. I helped him sit on the couch. He sniffed my hair as I reached around his muscular frame. "Is it too tight?" I asked.
"No." I used a diaper pin to secure the wrap. "Leg."
"I have some clothes for you to wear," I announced. "Let me grab those, and then we'll check your leg, okay?" He didn't answer but he also did not attempt to stop me from leaving. I went to my bedroom to grab the oversized shirt I borrowed from my cousin, Vince. My cousin visited me a few weeks ago. He had forgotten some clothes when he left. I grabbed the track pants and a pair of shorts. I'd let the man decide which he wanted to wear.
"What do you want? Pants or shorts?"
"Shorts," he whispered. I gave him an apologetic smile before cutting away his pants. The man was commando. My face flushed red as I helped him pull on the shorts. I've seen a penis and balls before but never ones that large. The man was well endowed. He was much larger than my ex-husband.
"I think your leg is broken," I said. I left the man on the couch to grab the wooden spoons from the kitchen. His lip twitched as I strapped them to his left leg after setting it. I worried that I didn't position his leg correctly. The doctor would have to re-break his leg if it healed wrong. "It's all I could find." I used the ace bandage to wrap around his calf. "What happened?" I asked after tending to his traumas.
"Captured," he breathlessly said. "Beaten."
"You're a soldier. Thank you for your service. I'm sorry this happened to you. Is there anyone I could call?" I asked.
"No. Not yet," the man replied.
"You need an x-ray of your leg and chest," I said. The man shook his head. He didn't want anybody to know where he was. "Maybe I could borrow a portable machine from my friend. She's a doctor in town. I'd have to babysit her daughter in return, but it's worth checking your leg. Do you mind if I call? I need to get antibiotics for you, too. Do you have any allergies?"
"Nobody comes inside. No allergies," he replied. I nodded and called my friend. Surprisingly, she didn't ask me to babysit. But she was letting me borrow the machine.
"Thanks, Misha. I appreciate you doing this for me," I said.
"You've done too much for me already, Michelle. I'm happy to finally return the favour. Oh, I have antibiotics for you too." A tear streamed down my cheek. I wiped it away. "Allergies?" Misha asked.
"None," I replied. Without saying, Misha knew someone was at my house because I was allergic to penicillin. She promised to have a powerful antibiotic ready for me when I picked up the machine. "Thanks again, Misha. I owe you." It wasn't my first rodeo. The man on my couch wasn't the first soldier I had helped.
"Nonsense. We're even. Take care, love. I'll see you soon," Misha said, then hung up.
I waited for a few minutes to rein in my emotions before approaching the man lying on my couch. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Ranger," he replied. I furrowed my brows. Who would name their son Ranger? I prayed it was a nickname. "Me llamo Carlos," he added, speaking Spanish. It took me a few seconds to realize he had said, "I am called Carlos."
"Michelle," I said. "My name is Michelle, but I prefer to be called Mitch."
"Babe," he replied. His swollen lip tipped into a hint of a smile.
"Carlos, I have to pick up a few things. I'll only be gone for twenty minutes, okay?"
"Thanks." I kissed his forehead, checking his temperature using the way I checked if JJ ran a fever. His skin was hot to the touch.
"Sweetie, you're running a fever. I have Tylenol for you to take. Should I get them?" I asked. I wanted him to have a choice in his medical care. When Carlos nodded, I grabbed two tablets and water. Advil would probably work too, but I wasn't sure if he had internal bleeding or kidney damage. I had drawn a line on his stomach along the edge of the darkest bruise. If the bruised extended past the mark, I would know. So far, the dark bruise hadn't expanded.
Carlos sat up to take the medication. He groaned but took the pills I offered. I helped him lean against the pillow and covered him with a light blanket. "I'll be back in twenty minutes," I reminded him.
"Thanks, Babe," he replied.
I grabbed my gun and passed it to Carlos. Something told me that he'd feel more comfortable with a weapon. Carlos watched as I slipped one knife into the waistband of my shorts and another into the holster around my right thigh. "A girl could never be too careful. Usually, I carry two guns and a knife. I'm out of ammunition for my clutch piece, and you have my sidearm," I explained when he raised an eyebrow. "Stay safe."
"Don't get shot," he quipped. I grinned at Carlos before leaving him locked inside my house.
The trip to the medical centre only took five minutes. Misha and her husband, Caleb, were waiting in the parking lot, expediting the time I had to spend at the clinic. Caleb loaded the machine in the trunk with the film casings. "You know how to use this?" Caleb asked. I shook my head. He passed me a laminated card with instructions. "Follow those steps exactly."
"Thanks, Caleb. I'm glad I don't have to figure it out on my own."
"Text Misha that you need Cherry Garcia ice cream when you get the results," Caleb instructed. I was confused about why he said that. Sure, it was my favourite flavour. "Cherry Garcia means the bones are broken. Chunky Monkey if they're clear. The laminated card shows how to determine if the bone is broken." Misha passed me the bag containing prescriptions for antibiotics and strong pain medication.
"I appreciate you doing this for me, guys. Caleb, when I text Cherry Garcia, does that mean I could keep the machine for six to eight weeks to rescan the bones?" I asked. It was the only explanation I could think of for the texts.
"Yes. The card also shows what the remodelling should look like. You can hook the machine to your computer to view the imagery. I included the disc for downloading the program."
I wiped a tear off my cheek. Misha and Caleb helped me get back onto my feet after losing JJ. "I can't believe you're doing this for me," I cried.
"We know you're helping someone who wishes to remain anonymous. He's likely a soldier, and his safety depends on your help. Take care of him and let me know if you need anything else, okay?" Misha said.
"Okay. Thanks again, guys," I replied. Misha and Caleb waved before returning to work. I hoped my visit didn't affect the patients' wait time.
I drove home without stopping for extra supplies. Knowing Caleb, he'd buy stuff and leave it on my porch like the last time I nursed a soldier to health. Caleb was an army medic. He understood the need to maintain secrecy. His last tour ended when I arrived in Hawaii.
When I got home, I carried the supplies into the house. The portable x-ray machine was lighter than I had anticipated. Carlos smiled when I entered the living room. Despite the bruises, the man was ridiculously attractive. I bet he drove the women crazy.
"I thought you'd be sleeping," I whispered. Carlos shook his head. "You need to lie on the floor for me to take the x-rays. Do you need help?" I moved the coffee table to make the transition easier.
"No," Carlos replied. The stubborn man groaned as he sat up. He lay on the floor where the coffee table used to be. I grabbed my laptop to download the program to view the x-ray. Once it was ready, I placed the film board beneath his leg. I remembered to cover his groin with the lead blanket Caleb provided. A few minutes later, the image appeared on my computer. I sighed in relief. "Babe?"
"I reset your leg correctly," I replied, relieved. "Caleb gave me plaster for a cast and a walking boot. Those are still in the car. I'll grab them after I check your ribs." I reset the film board and placed it beneath Carlos's back. When the image appeared, I noticed he had six broken ribs. Thankfully, they weren't puncturing anything. The bruise didn't expand, meaning he didn't have an active internal bleed. I was relieved.
"How many?" Carlos asked.
"Six," I replied. "Mostly on the right." I helped Carlos climb back onto the couch, then sent the text to Misha. She wished me luck.
I quickly went to my car to collect the supplies. A box of food and other medical supplies was on the porch. Caleb had already left me the items he felt I needed. Carlos raised an eyebrow when I entered the house. "My friends know I have someone here. You're not the first soldier I nursed to health since arriving in Hawaii eight months ago. Another man washed ashore on a dinghy. He didn't have broken bones, but I had a lot of abrasions to suture. My friend's husband was an army medic and taught me how to triage and tend to the man's wounds," I explained. "He brought the supplies."