Chapter 8

Saturday, March 31, 2006

The morning sun was shining through the window when Sam began stir.  After a few minutes he lazily opened his eyes and stretched.  He glanced over to the clock and was surprised to see that it was already a little after eight.  It wasn’t like him to sleep this late.  Stretching once more he threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed.

He was almost surprised that someone hadn’t appeared in the doorway the minute he woke up.  Since yesterday, his mother and Al had hovered about him waiting on him hand and foot.  He’d felt like he needed a hall pass the few times he’d gotten out of bed to use the bathroom.

Unfortunately his mother and Al had taken Jamie Walters’ advice of bed rest just a little too seriously.  Sam snorted softly thinking of Jamie Walter.  Who the hell was he to tell Sam what he should and shouldn’t do?

Al had been right when he’d said there was history between the two of them.  If he only knew.  For just a second Sam mulled over telling Al about that history.  It could be interesting just to see what Al would do to Jamie.  Quickly Sam discarded the thought.  That was a secret he’d kept for too long.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee trickled into the room and the aroma of it awoke his hunger and his stomach began go growl.  Grabbing his cane, he got up from the bed and made his way out into the hall.  It was likely Al and Thelma were just going to chase him back to bed but he wasn’t going to let that happen until he’d had something to eat – at the table like everyone else.  Even though he hadn’t had much at dinner the night before it had been good to just sit there with everyone else.

He was nearly to the kitchen when he realized that not only was he hungry but he was feeling quite a bit better than he had been the day before.  Either the antibiotic had finally kicked in or all he’d really needed was a good solid rest.

Arriving in the kitchen he saw his mother, Al, and Katie seated around the table eating breakfast.  Jim had mentioned at dinner the night before that he had some work to do on base this morning.

“Good morning,” Sam called out walking into the kitchen.  He was greeted with a variety of different responses.

“What are you doing out of bed,” Al immediately questioned only to be followed by Thelma’s concerned, “Sam, Sweetheart, you should be resting.”

Only Katie gave him any kind of normal greeting and cheerily responded back, “Morning, Sam.”

Sam threw Katie a grateful look that at least she was treating him like a normal person and not an invalid.  “I was hungry.  I wanted some breakfast,” he said in response to Thelma and Al.

Thelma jumped up from the table putting an arm around Sam’s shoulders to walk him back to his room.  “You don’t have to get up for that.  You know Dr. Walters said you should be on bed rest.  Let’s get you back to bed and I’ll bring you in some oatmeal and toast.”

“No,” Sam said stiffening ever so slightly at the mention of Jamie Walters.  Seeing the shocked look on his mother’s face he hastened to add, “Really, Mom, I’m feeling a lot better than I was yesterday.  I just want to eat whatever everyone else is eating here at the table.”  Seeing that she still looked upset by his words he tagged on, “I’ll go right back to bed afterwards.  I promise.”  He bent down to give her a peck on the cheek to further soften his words.

“Well, ok,” Thelma said giving in and walking Sam over to the table.  While he lowered himself into a chair, hanging his cane from the back of it, she bustled around filling a plate for him with fresh made French toast and bacon.  “The water’s still hot.  I’ll make you some tea,” she said putting the plate down in front of him.

“No, that’s ok, Mom,” Sam said stopping her.  “The coffee smells good.  I think I’d like a cup of it for a change.”

Sam turned his attention to the task of eating.  It had been far too long since he’d had his mother’s cooking and that, combined with his hunger, made eating a top priority for him at the moment.  It wasn’t until he’d cleaned off half of his plate that he finally became aware of the awkward silence at the table and the strange looks all three kept giving him.

“What?” Sam said looking around at the three of them.  “Did I put salt in my coffee or something?” he laughed.

There was no immediate answer from the three of them.  Al and Thelma exchanged uneasy looks with each other and Katie busied herself with her food.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Sam asked confused.

Katie finally blew out an exasperated breath looking from her mother to Al.  “I guess we’re all just trying to figure out if you remember last night,” she said.

“Katherine,” Thelma warned in a low tone while Al threw her a look that would have terrified any enlisted man.

“What about last night?” Sam asked warily.  “Was I sleep walking or something?”

Katie deliberately ignored her mother and Al.  “No.  You woke up at about 3:00 screaming about there being blood on your hands.  You didn’t quiet down until Mom washed your hands.”  She looked hard and long at her brother.  “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”  Sam responded quietly.  He put his fork and knife down gently on his plate no longer interested in the food there.  The French toast that he’d been enjoying now suddenly seemed to taste like sawdust in his mouth.  He reached around grabbing his cane off the back of the chair and stood up.  “I think I’m going to go and lie down again.  I’m starting to feel tired.”  His voice was pitched low, just above a whisper.  Without another word or look to anyone at the table he made his way back to the bedroom.

“Sam,” Thelma said as she put a hand out to gently stop him.  Just as gently he shook off her hand and continued to the bedroom closing the door softly behind him and leaning against it for a minute.

He finally pushed off from the closed door and moved to sit on the bed with his back pressed up against the headboard.  He brought his legs up wrapping his arms loosely around them and retreated into himself.  Almost as quickly as he sat down he was back up pacing the length of the room.

***

“You shouldn’t have said anything, Katie,” Thelma sighed when she heard Sam close the door.

“Why, Mom?  What does that accomplish?  We’ve done the same thing for nearly 20 years now.  No one says anything to Sam that might upset him – might make him remember the dreams he keeps having.  What’s it accomplished, Mom?  The dreams don’t go away and we’ve never dealt with what brought them on.  It’s time for all of us to start dealing with it.  If we don’t, Sam’s never going to have peace.”

Thelma sighed again deeply and it looked to Al as if someone had put a knife in her heart and twisted it.  “He’s too fragile right now, Katie.  It’s not the right time.”

Katie was hurting just as much for her brother as her mother was but she was frustrated as well.  “When’s it ever going to be the right time?” she asked before standing up abruptly and beginning to clean off the table.

Al had a feeling that what he was witnessing wasn’t something new.  It didn’t look like it would be solved today any better than it had in the past and he was become uncomfortable as the silent witness to it.  “I’m gonna go check on Sam,” he said getting up from the table.  He didn’t wait for either of the women to acknowledge what he’d said before heading for Sam’s room.

He knocked softly on the closed door and waited for an answer.  When there was none he knocked again just a bit harder.  This time when there was no answer from the man on the other side of the door he opened it enough to peer around it.  “Can I come in?” asked.

“Yeah,” Sam softly responded.

Al walked into the room pushing the door closed behind him and stood near it.  Silence descended on the room as he watched Sam pace back and forth like caged tiger.

“You know, you’re supposed to be resting, not trying to wear a hole in the carpet.”  He thought maybe a little levity might help to calm Sam down.  “You keep this up and your mother’s liable to call Dr. Walters and have him sedate you.”  It was exactly the wrong thing to say as he quickly found out.

“F*** Jamie Walters,” Sam burst out stopping his pacing long enough to get in Al’s personal space.

Al was taken aback not only by the vehemence in Sam’s voice but by his use of foul language.  It wasn’t as if Sam were too “good” to ever use foul language it was more that he very rarely used it and only then when he had been pushed to the very limits of his temper.  Al quickly deduced that this was one of those times.

“Who the hell does that son of a bitch think he is anyway?”  Sam had resumed his pacing and it was as heated as his words were.  “So what if he’s got a medical degree.  I’ve got that and then some.  The bastard can’t get anywhere near matching me.”

Now Al really knew that Sam had been pushed to his extremes.  If his use of foul language was rare it was even rarer that he would throw his intelligence up to anyone.  If anything he frequently tried to downplay it doing his best to fit in with everyone else.

Al finally intercepted Sam’s pacing putting his hands on his shoulders to stop him.  “Whoa, slow down there.  I know you’re angry right now but if you keep this up you’re going end up tripping and hurting yourself.  I don’t think you want to do that.”

At first Sam struggled in Al’s grasp before he finally stilled, shoulders slumping in an admission of defeat.

“Ok, how ‘bout if we sit down and talk about this rationally,” Al said once Sam had stopped trying to fight.

Sam gave a quick, sharp nod and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You wanna tell me what this is all about, what’s going on?” Al asked sitting on the armchair that he’d pulled around to face Sam.

“Nothing’s going on,” Sam mumbled.  He didn’t look up to meet Al’s eyes looking down at his hands clasped in his lap instead.

“Uh uh, I’m not buying that,” Al said.  “Something’s got you upset.  I don’t know how but I think that dream you had last night and Jamie Walters are somehow tied together.  You gonna tell me how or should I start playing guessing games.”

“It’s nothing, Al.  I just…I’m just tired, ok.”  Sam finally looked up at Al and Al was startled by the raw pain and pleading he saw in his eyes.  “Please, just let it go and forget about it.  Please.”

Al wanted to fight with Sam, to get him to open up and tell him what the problem was – what had him so off-balance.  He couldn’t do it, though, and risk deepening that look of pain.

When Al didn’t say anything right away Sam lay back on the bed rolling over with his back to Al.  “I think I’m just going to go back to sleep for a while,” he said but his words were partially muffled by the pillow he’d pushed his face into.

“Ok, Kid, if this is what you want to do,” Al said getting up from the chair and pulling the covers back over Sam.  He was ready to walk away from the bed but stopped looking at the huddled form.  “You know, whatever it is I’ve got a feeling you’ve been trying to bury it and hide from it for a long time.  That’s not gonna work, though, ‘cause it’s always gonna be waiting to come out and bite you on the butt when you least expect it.  When you’re ready to talk to me about it I’ll be here to listen to you.”

He was getting ready to walk out of the room when Sam’s words stopped him.  “And what about you?  When are you gonna admit whatever it is that’s eating at you or is that gonna be a secret?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam?” Al said stopping at the foot of the bed and turning back to face the younger man.

Sam sat up in the bed.  “Why were you sleeping in here last night, Al?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam,” Al repeated in denial.  “I was in here when you had that dream but that was it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Al,” Sam said in a calm quiet.  “I saw you in here.  I woke up for a few minutes around 5 and you were sleeping in that chair and I want to know why.”

Al felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.  He didn’t think Sam or anyone else knew he’d spent part of the night sleeping in the arm chair by Sam’s bed.  He’d snuck out of the room early before anyone else in the house was awake.  He’d never thought that Sam had woken up and seen him there.

“Ok, I was sleeping in here for a while last night,” Al admitted.  “You were pretty upset and I wanted to make sure you were ok.  I figured if I was in here and you got upset again I could get you calmed down before you could wake the whole house.”  It was a cover, Al knew that, but at least it had the ring of truth to it.  Part of the reason he had stayed in Sam’s room last night was if he were awakened by dreams again.  A big part was that he wanted to be close by to make sure nothing happened to him in the night.

Sam stared at him through narrowed eyes not quite believing what Al had told him.  “There’s more to it than that but I guess you’re not gonna tell me and that’s that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we all have our secrets that we’re keeping,” Al retorted.

“Touché,” was Sam’s soft response before he lay back down again rolling over so his back was to Al.

Al rubbed both hands over his face lost as to what had just happened.  Somehow it seemed everything had just spiraled out of control and he wasn’t sure how or why it had happened.  He headed for the bedroom door stopping with his hand resting on the door knob.  “You get some rest now,” he said looking back to Sam.  “I’ll come in later to check on you.”  A deafening silence was his only response.

Shaking his head slowly he pulled the door open and walked out.  “Some vacation this is shaping up to be he murmured.

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