Do you remember Nurse Prynne? Of course you do, she was a force of nature. A doll when she didn't make you quiver in your boots. Remember what she said had been the best part of her career? The stories, she said. The ones patients share with you when you have a moment to sit with them. A white coat and a friendly smile invites stories, funny or sad, each and every one a gift.
I am full of them too now, filled with memories of places I've never been, people I've never met. Good or bad, all the stories are such gifts, each and every one of them.
Margaret liked early mornings. Before the night shift ended, when the world outside was quiet and the patients asleep. The air calm. It changed as soon as the morning shift arrived. With them came an efficiency, the urgency that permeated almost every moment in camp. Unless there was a lull, of course, and you felt your skin crawl with tiny, impatient insects, driving you mad. The quiet moments you could simply rest in were to be cherished.
Mornings had always been her favorite time of the day. When she was a little girl, she liked to wake up early. Tiptoe barefoot past her parents' bedroom and find a spot somewhere in the house where the sun shone in. Curl up there, like a cat. A sunshine-bath. The house -or houses, there had been many – always felt different in the mornings. Still and quiet, but in a different way. Not like quiet afternoons when her mother would snap at her for even breathing too loudly, or the pressing silence around the dinner table, but an exciting kind of quiet. A friendly one, a silence that was supposed to be there.
A moment between. She could almost reach out and touch the new day, but it wasn't there for real yet. A little secret nook of reality, just for her.
Margaret yawned and stretched a little in her chair. It had been a quiet shift, only four patients resting in post-op, all from the same unit. Shrapnel, a not-too-serious chest wound, a thigh that needed a lot of attention. And on one of the patients, an eye that hopefully wasn't as bad as it looked and a right arm that wasn't there anymore.
She looked to her left and saw Pierce's dark hair, his head resting on his arms over the desk. Asleep. The very light kind of sleep she knew he would wake up from in a second, bounce up, and be ready for whatever was demanded of him. With all of his less flattering sides, she knew that. If the situation called for it, he would be on top of his game immediately.
When she looked out over the room again, she saw Private Thomas move a little, tense up. Was he in pain? She was on her feet in a second and quickly made her way over to him. He was grimacing a little.
"Are you alright, Private, are you in pain?"
"Yeah, no, sorry. Just a cramp in my thigh." He shook his head a little and grinned at her. "Sorry, that sounded like the start of a very bad pick-up line."
She smiled.
"It did. Not the worst I've ever heard, but still pretty bad."
She checked the IV before sitting down on the chair next to his cot.
"Is it letting up?"
He nodded.
"Good. And how's your…" She hesitated for a second. She had done this so many times, but it always felt strange. 'Arm' felt insulting, but what could she say? 'Stump'? That would be just horrible.
"How's your arm," she said. "Any pain?"
"No. Whatever it is you have me hooked up to here is clearly some kind of liquid magic. It mostly feels strange. Numb, but it's pulsating, you know? Like I just slept on it weirdly. Like I can just lift it up and shake it off."
Margaret nodded, but of course she didn't know, how could she. She could only imagine. And that was bad enough.
"It was a very clean cut," she said. "Something must have come flying in the explosion and just took it with it. Your friends did an excellent job attending to the wound right away, getting the bleeding under control."
"Yeah," he said and nodded slowly. "They're great. And thank God we weren't too far away from here. I'm just happy it wasn't my head."
"Yes, those operations are a complete nightmare."
She winked at him and he smiled a little. A small, sad, smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"What do you think happened to it? My arm?"
The question caught her off guard.
"Do you think an animal took it? Ate it?"
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe."
"I hope an animal got it. A stray dog. I hope so. I used to toss scraps to them, you know. It would be nice if one of them got a nice meal out of it."
His voice was very calm, but the images in Margaret's head were very disturbing. But mostly sad.
She tried not to think about that, about the parts left behind. In her everyday life, everything was always about saving what was left. All the parts left behind somewhere out there were unsettling to think about. Not only physical parts.
"I had a dog once," Thomas said.
"Yeah?"
"A Jack Russel. I got him for my 7th birthday. I had been begging my parents to give me a dog for ages, and on my birthday, they woke me up with cake and a big box with a black and white ribbon, and there he was. He was so cute. Tiny and white with a big black spot over his eye. Guess what I named him."
"Ummm," Margaret said and pretended to think deeply. "Spot?"
"You are correct, I was not a very imaginative child. But I loved that dog. He passed away only last year."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too. But he had a great life. He had a best friend, Barney the Pug. An arch nemesis, Freddie the Beagle. And a girlfriend, Stella the Retriever. You should have seen him spin in circles every time he saw her, it was great. Out there, I kept thinking all those scrawny strays were someone's Spot once, you know?"
Margaret nodded.
"I wish he would be there when I get back, he would be so happy. If he would recognize me, that is, with this." He gestured to his face with his remaining hand.
"The doctors think your eye will be fine, most of the damage seems to be around it. When you get to Tokyo, they will be able to tell for sure. The other wounds on your face were mostly superficial. They will heal nicely, and there will only be some minor scaring."
Thomas shook his head.
"I always thought that when I get home, I was gonna ask Ginny Baker out. She would say yes because I would be this big hero, you know? But I will just be this busted up freak, one arm lighter and a Frankenstein face, with a pirate patch."
"Well, if Ginny Baker says no, she is very stupid."
"Oh, come on," Thomas raised his voice and Margaret looked out over the room. Everyone seemed undisturbed.
"I won't even be able to write. It could at least have been my left arm, but no, had to be the one I actually need. I even had a tattoo, I got it in Seoul when I just got here and it fucking hurt too, but now it's gone, there's just this void."
Over at the desk, Margaret saw Pierce look up. His eyes met hers and he raised his eyebrows in a question. Margaret shook her head ever so slightly, no, she didn't need any help.
"And my parents, this will just break them. My mom, I can't even tell her when I have a cold, she worries so much, and now this! Just this sad, half-blind gimp with a fucked-up face will come home, she will never get over it, and Ginny will for sure run the other way."
"That is not true," Margaret said and put her hand on Thomas's chest. She could feel his heart hammering in there.
"Of course it is. Would you go out with someone like me?"
"In a heartbeat. I would see a man who is brave and selfless. Willing to put his life at risk to protect others, who care about other creatures, big and small. And who wears the evidence of his bravery with pride. Yes, I would be honored to go out with you."
Thomas took a deep breath and held it. She kept his gaze, letting him know that every word was true. After a while, he relaxed a little and exhaled, gave her a tiny smile as he sank back against the pillow.
"Yeah? That's good, if Ginny says no, I'll tell her 'No worries, this hot nurse I met in Korea is more than willing to, so there'."
Margaret leaned in a little closer.
"I'm actually head nurse, and a Major, if you want to really rub it in."
Thomas chuckled. They sat in silence for a little while, and his eyelids started to look heavy. He needed to rest, his body and mind had gone through more in the last 24 hours than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. Margaret was just about to get up and let him get some sleep when he spoke again.
"And I can tell her that if she does go out with me and we end up getting married, she will only have to iron one sleeve on my shirts, so that's a plus."
Margaret sank back down on her chair.
"Time-saving, for sure. And think about it, from here on, you can get out of everything you don't want to do. Just blame the arm."
"Yeah," Thomas said and sat up a little straighter again. "No more washing dishes or mowing the grass. Help people move. I won't be able to carry Ginny over the threshold, though."
"You know what, Ginny can walk."
"Yeah. And for Halloween, I can go as a pirate, an inverted one. You know, with a wooden arm instead of a wooden leg."
Margaret laughed, she really liked this young private. He was going to be just fine.
"Yes, that's perfect! It can be a fancy wooden arm, with compartments."
"For rum and doubloons."
"For sure, you can fascinate Ginny with rum and doubloons."
Both of them laughed.
"What is this merriment I hear this early in the morning?"
Pierce came walking up to them, his hair messy and his hands in his pockets.
"Oh," Margaret said, "we were just chatting about pirates."
"Ah," Pierce said and sat down on Thomas's cot. "Like you do."
"And also," Thomas said, "about our potential first date." He looked at Margaret and grinned.
"Really?" Pierce leaned in closer. "You must tell me your secret; I have been trying to get this one to go out with me since I got here."
Margaret glared at him. Yes, go out with. If by that he meant harassing her every chance he got, then yes. He sure had tried. But this was not the time to go into that, so she turned her attention back to Thomas.
"Yes," she said, making her voice light and breezy, "if Ginny Baker turns out to be a complete idiot, it's a date."
She winked at Thomas and then looked back at Pierce. He was staring at her in a strange way, like he had never seen her before. What did that mean? He did that sometimes, every now and then she would catch him looking. Often, he would wave, or waggle his eyebrows or something, but before that, there was usually a thoughtful look on his face. Serious, like he was trying to figure her out. Like she was a riddle that needed to be solved. Well, if he came up with an answer, she sure hoped he would share his conclusions with her.
"You know, doctor," Thomas said, "it has everything to do with natural charisma, I don't think I can teach you that." He stifled a yawn.
Margaret chuckled. Yes, she really liked this young man. Ginny would for sure be an idiot to turn him down. Pierce chuckled a little too and patted Thomas's arm.
"Private, you are obviously delirious, so I'll just let that slide."
"You should get some rest, breakfast is in a couple of hours, and after that, you'll be on your way," Margaret said.
"Yes," Pierce said, "you should listen to your date, she is both cute and smart. Get some rest."
Thomas nodded.
"Okay, I'll follow doctor's and nurse's orders. Mostly nurse's." He smiled at Margaret and closed his eyes.
She pulled up the sheet around him and tried not to look at the empty space where his arm should be. Somehow, seeing the hollow under the sheet was worse than seeing the bandages.
It was like seeing a child in post-op. Their forms so tiny, all the empty space in the beds so immense and cold, like it was swallowing them up. It should be filled with stuffed animals, soft little friends keeping their owner safe.
Margaret walked after Pierce over to the desk. He grabbed the coffee pot from the heater and filled both of their mugs.
"That was nice," he said and sat down opposite her. "Your bedside manner is on point, Major."
"Thank you, doctor. You did a wonderful job on him."
She held her mug with both hands, suddenly a bit chilly.
"Do you think his eye is gonna be okay?"
He shrugged and sighed, leaning over the desk on his elbows.
"I don't know, it's impossible to say before the swelling goes down. They'll have the best equipment in Tokyo, all we could do was patch it up, really."
They sat in silence for a little while, both staring off into space, lost in their own thoughts.
"Yeah, I think so," he said quietly. "I think he will be fine."
Margaret met his eyes. They were tired and serious. Maybe not entirely truthful, but she took what she could get. Yes. Right now, Private Thomas was resting comfortably. He was soon off to a better-equipped hospital, and his eye would be fine. He would come home, go out with Ginny Baker, get married, and have kids. And a new dog. He would live a long, happy life.
In the early morning light, sitting with a mug of lukewarm coffee in her hands and Pierce's serious gaze holding hers, all of this was true.
In the stillness of the moment between, she let herself rest in that truth.