Bridges: Chapter 4

by Bailey Summers

Sam-

The guys have several tents up and there’s tarps over a lot of stuff. They all smile when I come into the garage and the guys that were sitting get to their feet. I liked that it’s really old school gentleman stuff, heck I learned all that stuff in the forces. It’s a standard thing for guys when we’d be at a dress uniform function. Now that the slipper’s on the other foot, I’m liking the treatment.

“Hi everyone, I hope it’s alright but my dad had all this different alcohol that I’m never going to use, so….” I pass the box to Chuck.

“Merci bon chere, c’est manifique.” He gives me a nice kiss on the cheek as he takes it away.

I see Brandon all freshly showered himself. God…He hasn’t shaved so he’s got this bit of a sexy scruffy look and his hair’s loose and drying that way dark, brown with just the hint of steel at his temples. He’s got another plaid shirt on but with only the lowest three buttons done up. Does it ever show off his chest, uhm…yum..? I feel my nipples wake up. He’s got the sleeves ripped off the shirt too with his arms showing all that muscle. He’s wearing faded cut off old jeans that are knee length and sandals. The best part is those gold rimmed John Lennon like glasses giving him this biker, grunge, scholar look.

Did I mention Yum? I’m so not used to these feelings. In every other “relationship” I’ve needed warm up time.

He smiles at me and walks over. “Supper might be awhile so how would you like a tour of the place?”

I’ve never really been here except a few times as a teen. “I’d love one.”

“We’ll have to be careful, there’s a lot of broken stuff, nails and weak boards.” Then he offers me his arm.

“Thank you.” I’m blushing a little.

“I should have said something sooner Sam but you look beautiful tonight.”

“….Uhm, thank you.” Okay now I’m seriously blushing but on cloud nine already. It’s the first time that I’ve been called beautiful in my life. I can only describe the feeling as something inside me purred.

The house is old and beautiful an old ranch style with the downstairs huge and the second floor is practically another house. It had a wrap around porch/deck on the first floor which I’ve always loved and a decorative one for the second story as well. Once inside I can see the mess but also the beauty of the place. A real old time ranch house with the bulk of it being wood and stone. The wiring is a mess and so is the plumbing. We make bits of small talk as to what he’s planning on doing to fix it all. I don’t understand most of it but I’m a nurse not an engineer.

“It sounds like a huge amount of work.”

“It is but the major stuff I’m hiring out.”

“Won’t that be expensive?”

“Well we’re going to gut the furnace, plumbing and electrical ourselves then we’re getting out of here and the hired guys come in, that’ll just leave them to install things and we’ll do the rest. It’ll save a lot of money.”

“I’d think it’d be more expensive?”

“Actually with really good guys it get’s done fast and in a lot better quality than if we tried it.”

“So you can’t do everything?”

“Oh, I could do this, but It’d take me too much time, and it wouldn’t be up to my standards.”

“I’m a bit confused, not up to your standards? How can you not be able to do that if you’re the builder?”

“Oh, I’ve worked a lot of construction jobs over the years and where I know how to do all of these things but I’m not a professional. The guys I’m hiring will be professionals and I know what to expect from them.”

It’s interesting he’ll do that instead of Macho his way through stuff. Then again, He’s a man and not really the boys I’m used to seeing.

We head back to the garage where they’re all hanging out and I get to look through the things they’ve taken out of the house. A lot of it’s really old and beautiful and Brandon’s really in love with those old guitars. They’re really lovely old acoustic cowboy guitars. I let my fingers dance over the strings idly.

“Do you play?” Brandon asks.

“A bit, I haven’t in a long time. My dad showed me.”

He passes me one of the guitars. “Play something?”

“Uhm, I’ll try.”

I take the guitar he passed me and find a place to sit and tune it up slowly listening to the sounds it can make. I start playing one of my mom’s favorite songs. “Yesterday.” by the Beatles. I’m not sure why, probably out of habit really but I start to sing along with my playing.

When I’m done the guys are clapping like I just played at a café with an open mike night. (I’ve always wanted to do that.)

The food’s ready by then and a radio is turned on and we’re using the dining room furniture from the house even with the table insert in. The food is amazing, it turns out Chuck’s a real chef. We have these amazing elk steaks, There’s three salads with lettuces I’ve never heard of, a huge dish of fresh picked local mushrooms fried with butter but I’ve never heard of putting thyme or sherry into them. A bunch of baked potatoes and a potato salad made with sweet potato, grilled corn instead of the usual. We even started with another first for me. Gazpacho? It’s a cold soup, Chuck served it in glasses along with artichokes, I’ve never had those either. I can tell Chuck must be a chef because there’s just so much I’ve never really heard of before.

The guys use manners eating for the most part but don’t go too over board with it. I try a little bit of everything, just a little. I really liked the cold soup though. Chuck makes desert for us a pie? It’s kinda like a tarte? He just took the pie crust and a bunch of chopped fresh fruit and some other things then put the stuff in the center and folded the dough around it and put it and the cookie sheet it was made on, onto the grill and closed the top.

Brandon took one of the guitars and tuned it as did Christian as the guys made drinks for us and we relaxed on various bits of the furniture. They played together and I just listened and sipped my sangria?

(There’s so much here I’ve never had before.)

They play some of my favorite songs too. Brandon has a very nice singing voice as he sings stuff from Nazareth, The Black Crows, The Traveling Wilbury’s, Phil Collins, Guns & Roses, Brian Addams, CCR, and a few others. I love the song “Patience.”, It was awesome when the guys would sing along too especially when they sang “Handle with care.” and “End of the line.”

Christian sung “As long as I can see the light.” awesomely, it moved me. But Brandon sung “Under the bridge.” I don’t know who sings it but, on the acoustic it was awesome.

We talked about music and songs and even dug out the old stereo and listened to some of Mr. Ferguson’s old records. Bobby and Steve liked that as much as they liked rock, they liked country better. Brandon and I like a lot of the same music. When I mentioned Bon Jovi he smiled and we sang “Living on a prayer” together…a lot like the acoustic version.

Desert was served just slightly warm about two hours later with fresh whipped cream. It was really good.

Really, really good.

The guys started to head to their tents, some calling home to their SO’s and stuff. It was nearly ten thirty and Brandon smiled at me as I yawned. “Tired?”

I nodded, yawned again. “Sorry.”

He yawned too. “It’s catching.”

“I should head home.”

“Here, let me walk you there.”

We go to leave and he snags his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s nice and warm because it was close to the BBQ and soaked up just a bit of the heat. I love the smell of it, leather and Brandon with that guy scent mixed in with soap and deodorant or cologne…It does things. I want to nuzzle it like catnip. We walk but kind of keep our hands in our pockets. We don’t really say much, but he walks me to my door. It’s so nice to see my house looking like this.

“Everything’s been so awesome today Brandon.”

“Good, you looked like you needed a good day.”

“Uhm, tell the guys thanks and I’ll cook breakfast for you guys tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to Sam, but it’d be great.”

“I want to.”

“Alright, my place or yours?”

“Uhm, here’s alright.”

“What time?”

“About nine?”

“Perfect. It’ll give me a chance to sleep in.”

We get to the steps and my door. I unlock the front door and take off his jacket and look at him as I pass it back to him. “Thanks, Brandon I've had one of the best days in a long time today.” I lean down since he’s still on the steps and kiss him on the cheek. I want to do more but, It’s too soon, I’m scared still too. I’m not used to feeling like this.

“You’re welcome Sam.” He smiles at me then waits until I’m safely inside. Once I’m in I can’t help but do that lean against the doorframe, such a girl thing.

I get in the wash, after a few minutes still enjoying the feelings and put on some more, mostly my linens and stuff. I know it’s late but I’m just puttering, humming and enjoying myself, enjoying the feelings I’m having and had through the day. Thinking too. I have a lot to think about.

I really clean the kitchen and dining room and living room so it’ll be presentable to the guys tomorrow. I mix up a batch of bread dough and once it’s panned after it’s risen a bit then kneaded down I let it proof overnight and I set out everything I’ll need for cooking tomorrow. I’m going to need some groceries soon. I haven’t bought that much of anything for awhile.

It’s about one twenty by the time I’m showered and gone to bed.

***

6:45 am and it’s hot as hell out already climbing into the 80’s.

I just got in from the base jog and I am in the showers.

The guys from my unit are around me and just over the way I can see the other girls….towels wrapped around themselves the way it should be with me.

I should be over there instead of here.

I’m more certain than ever since Thailand.

I eat a breakfast sandwich and get a coffee and head off to sit in as the CAG starts to go over our assignments.

Three hours later I’m feeling the rise and fall of the helicopter as we fly a back up patrol over the western foothills. I can feel the vibe of rotor G’s pulling through me. I feel the side to side vibration of it through my body. There’s nothing like flying in a combat chopper. Major Wilson our Doctor is talking to Lt. Harrington the pilot. Nathalie LeBlanc is my fellow nurse and field medic and she’s not loving being airborne. Marc Depuis is our door gunner and he’s got sharp eyes and a good guy really.

You know you’d think you’d be chilled a little in an open door helicopter, but in this desert, at this time of day it’s just hot air rushing past you, and around the crew compartments. You’re really hot but it dries you off, and it dries you out pretty fast too. My hair’s too short for my liking, but only the most die hard girly girls keep it long over here. The rest keep it cut short. It’s a small consolation considering no one here on our side is really adjusted to it. My short hair isn’t different from any of the other girls right now.

Everyday since my leave I’ve been obsessing over my revelation. I was never meant to be a guy. It’s been torturing me ever since.

There’s a call on the radio. Our guys out there are under attack.

We bank over eastwardly or tilting down to the right. We’re hanging on to the frame handles. 3 g’s in a tight turn hitting us as we’re at a seventy five degree tilt going close to a hundred and ten mph. I hear the yells of our guys over the radio and our gunner’s cocking the big Browning .30 caliber.

Some of our guys out there are taking gun fire and I see several of our trucks and jeeps and ARV’s getting hit by insurgent gunfire. Then there’s that roar of our machinegun that blends into the tinkling rain of the shells dropping to the bottom of the choppers inside. You’d think you couldn’t hear it over the gunfire or the chopper but oddly you can. And the scent; that smell of hot metal, boiling hot gun oils and powder.

Then we’re down and I’m running out with the doctor and the other medic. We’re dodging bullets and making our way to several of the wounded soldiers. I fire back with my P-90 submachine gun . I’ve got no idea if I hit anyone, at the time it wasn’t my idea. We get two guys pulled behind the cover of the armored vehicles and I’m going for another guy.

He’s screaming and has his right leg just right fucked up. He looks like he took six or so rounds from an AK-47 right to his shin and it’s nothing but long thin bit’s of bone and meat holding his foot on. He’s screaming as I’m working on getting on the pressure bandages to stop the bleeding and tearing open packs of quik-clot with my teeth. I wrap the shin in as much gauze and bandages as I can and even stiffen it with surgical tape. If he’s going to lose that leg it’ll be with the surgeons and not me. He’s screaming and then he’s firing at Taliban guys trying to keep us from getting clear.

I start hauling him in a running drag to cover and I see two Taliban get about thirty feet away before our door gunner cuts into them with the big browning. I see two human beings ripped to pulp by the mini-gun.

Even over the smoke and sand and the scent of gunfire I get that coppery, salty, sweet…

***

I wake up with a lunge. The smell is still there and I swear I can taste the greasy smoke and blood on the back of my throat. I tumble out of my bed and make it to the bathroom to get sick. I’m there awhile just kind of hugging the bowl and trying to shake the images out of my head.

I get up on shaky legs and check my clock. It’s just about 5:47 so I guess this is a good a time as any to be up. I brush my teeth and change into my jogging gear. I pan out two loaves of bread and put them in the oven on a lower temperature. I toss back my meds and my hormones and today I put on my running weights and grab my jogging pack a small bottle of cranberry juice and a water and leave my place not just at a jog but at a run.

I think I’ve said before how much running is something that keeps me sane. I run out the hurt and pain of my life as it is; the memories of being in combat, seeing people die and get maimed and taking another persons life. I push myself until my sides hurt and my lungs are burning. The tears flow from the effort and the pain. I run as far and hard as I can up the hill.

I’m spent and find myself jogging to a stop at a bunch of roadside stones near the top of the hill. I sit, pant while crying and sweating out what’s left of my nightmares. Endorphins are great for getting this stuff out of myself. I calm down as I munch on a granola bar from my bag and drink my cranberry juice. A few swigs from my water and I get up and run all the way up to my usual turn around point then jog back down the hill to my house. I’m checking my watch and keeping my mind on the bread as I go passed my house and see the guys already at it and can heard loud rock music playing until I run down my road until I get to the four way stop that leads to town then turn around and head home. I get in and take the bread out and it’s just about perfect. I put on a pot of coffee and tea then run upstairs to have a very quick shower.

I go through what little girl routine I have and use nair to get rid of unwanted hairs and shampoo and blow dry my hair out and put on my baby powder body spray and spf lotion and just a touch of vanilla rose perfume and some eyeliner and a bit of foundation with spf and some chapstick just for some shine.

I’m actually feeling better as I dress in a cute lacey bra and panties and put on one of my favorite sundresses that’s a pale yellow with what looks like lupin flowers petal bits being blown in the breeze, it’s even a little daringly low cut, or at least for me.

I open up all my windows downstairs and start cooking breakfast for myself and nine guys.

Omg, nine guys.

I set the table first even pulling out the insert for the table and put on one of mom’s nice summer table cloths then the good china because I might as well get use out of it sometime in my life and I start cooking up pans of sausages, ham and steak. I make pancakes and scrambled eggs. I start digging out every jam and condiment I have and smile as I finish stirring the frozen OJ.

I’ve never done this before and I feel so love the feeling of just doing this much.

Then very unlady like I step out to the steps on my new deck and smile and take my mom’s old mountie bullhorn.

“HEY GUYS BREAKFAST!, COME AND GET IT!”

They drop everything and come jogging over, gawd this is going to be fun I think.