Becca (18 page)

“I don’t know.” He smiled.
Becca had tied her strawberry blonde back in a ponytail. He noticed she had put
on lipstick and maybe a touch of eye makeup.

“So, anyway. I’m going
home tomorrow unless I get an infection or something and then wouldn’t that be
a kick? I get an infection in my leg from the biopsy and it gets gangrene, and
they have to cut it off. That’s what happened to Van Johnson, you know.”

“The actor? He lost a
leg?”

She nodded. “No, silly. He
was in a movie and he played a guy who crashed his plane and a doctor had to
cut off his leg, and while the doc was doing it, the anesthesia was wearing off
and he started panicking.”

“Oh, really?” He was
almost laughing now. She lay in the bed, her legs crossed, and her feet with
their painted toenails waved back and forth, as she talked, sometimes
emphasizing one word, or another.

“Bertram Leslie Martin
Junior, you’re laughing at me?”

“Yes.”

“I feel drunk now. I’m
high. Have you ever been high, Josh? Ever done that? Smoked some weed, maybe
dropped some acid so you can see music, and hear colors?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But this is
a nice feeling. The doctor said I was going to have pain and that he didn’t
want me to be uncomfortable so he said I could have this shot and maybe another
later on, once this one wore off and I started hurting. Hey, maybe if you’re
here when the nurse gives me my next shot I’ll see if she can save some of the
stuff for you.”

“Oh, thanks, Becca, but
I’m driving.”

She chuckled and realized
her gown had come dangerously close to revealing much more than her thigh. “Well,
there you go,” she said to him, “you just got an eyeful. My leg, all the way up
to my snatch.” She giggled and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God,
I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m not.”

“Of course not. You’re a
guy. And you would have let me sit here all evening like that, wide open for
all the world to see and for you to feast your eyes on.”

“Perish the thought.”

“No?” She giggled and
rolled up the other side of her gown, revealing as much of her left leg as her
right. She was careful push down the gown between her legs in an act of modesty.
“Feast,” she said.

“It’s more like a snack,”
Bert said, looking at her legs and then at her eyes. They had been holding him
captive and he had not known it.

Becca giggled again. “What
would someone say right now if they walked in? Hmm? You staring at my twa—my
womanhood the way you are.”

“You’re womanhood? I
thought I was staring at your legs.”

“Bertram Leslie Martin
Junior. You are a liar. You were sneaking a look at my snatch.” She started
laughing. “Oh, my
God.
What am I
saying
?”

“It’s the medicine.”

“Greg’s never seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“What you say you’re not
staring at, but I know you are.” She laughed and nodded emphatically; then she
shook her head. “Yes, he’s never seen it.”

“Well why would he want
to?”

“Oh, so you don’t think
it’s
worth
a look?” She put her hands on her hips in a sign of
indignation.

“No, that’s not what I
meant. I meant he’s not
interested
in your womanhood.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right. He’s
not.” She patted the bed near her left foot. “Sit.”

He sat and she wriggled
the toes of her left foot against his buttock. He smiled at her. She was
smiling, her eyes glazed, her lips moist. “You are flying,” he said.

Becca lowered her voice
conspiratorially, “You wanna see it?”

“See what?”

She pointed between her
legs. Bert’s face flushed. Becca had a devilish smile, which made his flush
deepen when Becca pointed her finger at him and laughed.

“Hahaha. You should see
your face, Bertram.”

He laughed now. “You are
really crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy in love. Crazy
in love.” She looked toward the window and then she sighed deeply. “I’m
embarrassing myself aren’t I?”

“You can’t help it.”

She looked at him. “Do
you want to know who Alex is?” Before Bert could answer, she went on. “He was
my first love.” The smile left her face and she held up two fingers in a V. “Peace.”
She let her hand drop to the bed. “I think I’ll always love him even if I love
somebody else, because—oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Ah a woman of with
secrets.”

“No, they’re not secrets.
I just don’t talk about stuff. Do you have secrets?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“No I’m not.”

“Everybody has secrets.”

“I don’t have secrets
about anything I’ve done.”

They fell silent, both
looking out the window.

Becca yawned. “Oh my God,
I’m so tired all of the sudden.” She looked at Bert. “I was going to tell you
something, and I’ll be damned if I can remember what it was.” She shrugged and
cleared some hair from her eyes. “So what did the recruiter say?”

“He wanted me to leave
next week.”

“Next week? No!”

“That’s what I said.”

Becca rested her foot against
his side. “Let’s you and me run away, Josh. Canada. Let’s go to Canada.” On
each word, she prodded him with her toes.

“It’s too cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“I’ll be put in jail when
I come back to this country.”

“Don’t come back.”

“My mother’s here.”

“We’ll move her to Canada.’

“Your family’s here.”

“We’ll move your mother to
Canada.” She rubbed him with her foot and he grabbed and yanked her big toe. “Watch
out,” she said, “you might pull my leg off.”

“That’s not funny.”

She sighed and let him
rub her foot. “It’s getting close, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“The day you run off and
join the Army and see the world.”

“That’s the Navy.”

“You’re going into the
Navy?”

“No, that’s a slogan for
the Navy.”

“What’s a slogan for the Army?”

“I don’t know if it has
one.”

“Let’s do something.”

“What could we do?”

“Ever been to Niagara
Falls?”

“No.”

“Wanna go?”

“Isn’t that where a lot
people go on their honeymoon or something?”

“Yeah, you wanna get
married?”

He let go of her foot. “Becca,
don’t joke.”

“Hey, getting married is
not a joke. Oh
you
think it’s a joke—us getting married? Well, just to
let you know, mister, there’s an orderly in this hospital that got married and
he’s not going to get drafted.”

“He said that?”

“Yes. So you and I need
to get married in like what—two weeks?”

Bert chuckled. “You kill
me.”

“So, let’s do it.” She
took his hand and put it back on her foot.

He started massaging her
foot. “Do what?”

“Get married.”

He looked down as his
fingers plied the satiny smoothness of her instep. It was her right foot. He
wondered how long she would have it. He shuddered. “Getting married and not
going to Vietnam. That’s not such a bad idea.”

“Then you’d marry me”

“I didn’t say that. I
said
marriage
isn’t such a bad idea. I didn’t say marrying
you
wasn’t
a bad idea.

“Oh, another insult.” She
snatched her foot away. You were joking I hope.”

“Yes, I was joking.”

She squirmed her left
foot under the palm of his hand. “Then please continue.”

After a couple of
minutes, a voice announced that visiting hours were over in ten minutes

“Stay,” Becca said. “Hide
under the bed.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk. Besides,
you give great foot rubs.”

“We’ll bother your
roommate.”

“We’ll whisper.”

A woman, wearing a
hospital gown entered the room. “Oh, hello,” she said to Bert.

“Hi,” Bert returned.

Becca slipped her foot
from Bert’s hand and turned on the bed to let her feet dangle. “Somewhere down
there is a pair of slippers, Bert. Could you put them on me please?”

Bert found the fuzzy
rabbit slippers and slipped them on her feet. He steadied Becca as she stood up.
She grabbed the back of her gown.

“Oh, crap. Robe, please,”
Becca said.

Bert handed her the one
that lay on a chair next to the bed.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Go where?”

“I’m walking you to the
elevator. Don’t give me any lip.”

He walked along beside
her, Becca’s arm through his, her body close to his. Why did she suddenly feel
so frail?

“Thanks for coming.”

“That’s okay, Becca.”

She studied him a moment.
“Give me a couple of days. Then we’ll, um, we’ll do something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Becca beckoned him to
lean closer. She kissed his cheek and then rubbed the spot with the back of her
hand. “There,” she said, “rubbing it in so it stays. See you later, Josh.”

He smiled. “I’ll wait for
your call.” He turned as the elevator doors opened.

“Josh,” Becca said and
touched his arm as he stepped into the elevator, when he turned she merely
smiled and patted his arm. “I—gosh, I don’t know if I…never mind. I’ll see you
in a couple of days.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Sometimes I wonder if
you pay any attention to me.”

“How could I not?”

“I mean…you don’t answer
me sometimes.”

“When?”

She exhaled sharply to
blow her bangs out of her eyes. “Never mind. I can’t think clearly. I actually
think I might fall down here.” She swooned and Bert caught her.

“Becca, are you okay?” he
held on to her tightly.

She nodded. “No. I think
I’d better get back to my bed. You don’t mind?”

He saw a nurse coming to
assist her and he let the woman take Becca back to her room. Becca looked over
her shoulder at him, smiled and waved. When the elevator doors opened, he
stepped inside.

“I love him,” Becca said to the nurse. She
started crying and looked over her shoulder to see the elevator doors closing. “I
love you, Josh!”

IV

The phone rang. Carol
answered it.

“Carol? It’s Becca, hi.”

“Oh, my God, honey. How
are
you?”

“Okay.”

“Seriously, honey. Bertram’s
told me about your leg. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Like crap.”

Carol felt tears in her
eyes. “Rebecca, is it serious?”

“Yeah.” Becca said
flatly.

“Let me get my son. Hang
on, honey.”

Bert took the phone. “Hi,”
he said. Carol patted her son’s shoulder and left him alone. He had expected to
hear from Becca before now. Two days had passed since he had seen her in the
hospital.

“Don’t go to work today,
Bert,” Becca said. “I’m coming over.”

He did not hesitate. “Sure.”
Becca hung up and he called to the station to tell Carl he was not coming in to
work.

He sat on the front porch
when Becca arrived. She turned off the engine and sat behind the wheel, staring
off into space. Then, as if making a difficult decision, she threw open her
door and got out. Dressed in jeans and a peasant blouse she walked with a
noticeable limp as looked at the ground as if afraid she might step in
something. Bert met her at the foot of the steps.

“Becca?” he asked and
then had to brace himself as she walked right into him, burying her head
against his chest and enveloping him in her arms. Bert put his arms around her
and kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled fresh, her perfume, faint, but
alluring.

“It’s cancer for sure,”
she said. “You don’t know what to say, I know. Nobody knows what to say, except
‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘Oh, God, why’. Don’t say that. Say something original.”

“That’s fucked up,” Bert
said. “Is that original enough?”

She nodded, rubbing her
eyes against his shirt. He applied gentle pressure with his arms and she forced
herself against him as her lithe now suddenly seemingly fragile body filling
him with both desire and pity.

“It’s okay,” she said.

“How can it be okay,
Becca? Jesus Christ, it’s
cancer.”

“I’m not talking about my
cancer. You’re right, that’s
not
okay.”