Chances Are - Part 11

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Chances Are...
Stories of Hope

Allie's Tale
by Andrea Lena DiMaggio
 




Stories of hope in lives healed by second chances



The Russell home, Flemington, New Jersey...

 

“Damn it, Alan…I just don’t understand. It’s not like you went through combat. You’ve got to man up and put all this nonsense behind you.” Blake Russell looked at his son and shook his head. The boy had hardly been home three months and was already proving to be a major disappointment to his father.

“It’s not like that, Dad. You just don’t know what it was like.”

“Two tours in Nam when I was younger than you are now, and another in Desert Storm? Oh, I sure as hell know what it was like! Come on, Alan, you lost four kids in your graduating class and Richie Fanning is still in rehab. At least you’re still alive.”

“Listen to your father, Alan. You can always talk to us if you need to.” Bernice Russell patted her son on the arm.

“I want you to go over to Taliaferro’s today and talk with Jim; he’s holding a job for you, but he’s not going to wait forever.” That Blake completely ignored his son’s training and calling mattered little. He didn’t respect his son, even if he did love him, and a job was a job.

“And you should think twice about complaining, Alan. Jimmy junior is one of those kids I just mentioned, not that it means much to you. Just shake it off and get going, okay?” His father laughed at the end and patted him on the back, trying to sound lighthearted. Unfortunately nothing about what he said would ever seem lighthearted to the boy.

The last conversation came to mind; the last words. Nothing special on a nothing special day in a very special place. Jimmy was just helping out a friend.

“We’ll get together after the shift; I can’t wait to get home, Babe.”

There was something behind his words that gave Alan the confidence to trust his judgment. So he nodded his head and smiled. It was the last time he would seem Jimmy Taliaferro in this plane of existence. Another time and another place perhaps in the near future, Al would have been left as a surviving spouse, but not now. In his heart of hearts he would always love Jimmy, but life robbed him of his true self and his true love.


Later that week, Veterans's Health Care, Lyons, New Jersey campus...the office of Vincent Paglarulo, PsyD, PhD, Maj, US Army Ret.

“Tell me some more, Alan,” Vince sat across from him and opened up his posture by spreading his arms slightly, palms up in welcome. He had been dealing with young men and women like Alan for quite a while, having been Desert Storm vet himself, and working with those hurt by the pain of war.

“He knew me before we both enlisted. I didn’t realize how much until we ended up at the hospital in Balad.”

Vince nodded but kept silent.

“Yeah…they tell me it’s the busiest military hospital. We sure kept busy.”

Alan shrugged his shoulders. To say they were busy was an understatement. He re-united with Jimmy Taliaferro while stationed there as a nurse; the call up as a reservist spared him the embarrassment of explaining his career choice to his family. And it spared nothing for him otherwise, as meeting Jimmy brought back good times and acceptance and one less person to worry about as he worked side by side with folks who would have been shocked by who he really was. And loss.

“Don’t ask? I don’t have to, Al…you forget I dated your sister Miriam…she didn’t exactly keep secrets.” Jimmy had revealed to him after one long shift. There was an odd grinning persona that Jimmy seemed to have adopted whenever the two worked together.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Alan had begged him unnecessarily. Jimmy just smiled and shook his head every time.

“Never.” The friendship had just been an acquaintance of sorts since they were joined in a manner of speaking by Alan’s sister. And they became even more joined as the two of them shared a common grief when Miriam died after her long bout with uterine cancer. The two fell together as friends, but when they reunited in Balad, it became a curious relationship as Jimmy revealed his secret even as he shared Alan’s.

“You don’t know, do you? I guess I’ve been too good at hiding it.” Jimmy said one evening after they worked with a particularly good surgeon in saving a soldier’s leg. They had signed off after about fourteen hours on duty and both of them were vulnerable and exhausted.

“I think I’m….well, I’m not sure what I am, because I really love women.” Jimmy laughed softly and smiled the knowing grin once again. Unlike most times, the familiar expression put Alan ill at ease. He closed his eyes and looked away, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was himself…or rather the self no one besides he and Miriam and Jimmy knew. A hand touched his arm, startling him.

“You look just like her….you’re so much alike,” he said, using the present tense as if Miriam was still alive. In a way she was, since Alan shared more than just familial love.

“Stop, Jimmy…someone will hear.” Alan turned away, looking for escape.

“Nobody in the hall except for you and me. I won’t say anything, but I promise you we will talk about this. It’s too important to ignore, and we won’t be over here forever, okay?” His words would have seemed cryptic to any casual observer, but Alan knew exactly what Jimmy meant.

“You can do this,” Jimmy had said. The internet does more than just keep soldiers and marines and airmen and women connected with families. The more encouragement Alan received, the more he understood that it not only was possible, but it was imperative that he seek help once he left the Army. And the encouragement had grown into more than just help and support. Jimmy had told the truth, of course, since he was only attracted to women. And Alan remembered; a life set apart and forgotten was reanimated by the care of a friend thousands of miles away from home.

“You started to tell me about your last conversation when we met last week, but you stopped short. Are you okay with it now?” Vince tilted his head and held his hands out again. Alan bit his lip and began to speak, almost in a mumble. After a moment he got a bit louder and clearer.

“What do you mean; you’ve got to do this?”

"Cappy heard from her husband; their ten year old got hit by a car...she's out of here first thing tomorrow."

"Oh, come on, Jimmy. Why you? Can't someone else do it?"

Alan complained. After months of anticipation, both were due to be rotated stateside. Jimmy had agreed to the extra shift. Alan had gotten attached to being attached, and the two had spent more than their fair share of ‘hiding,’ though a couple of the nurses had noticed but had kept quiet.

It was meant to be just a simple act of kindness for a friend. But roads always can be dangerous; even in secure areas with guards and protection. A sergeant who had too much inner pain chose to drive after too much wine, despite the protest of his buddies, and Jimmy was killed instantly while crossing the street on the way back to the barracks.

“It hurts to know that you never got your chance, doesn’t it?” Vince interrupted.

Alan had mentioned the word chance so many times in so many ways in other sessions and even a few times in group therapy. Vince rephrased it and re-worded it many times as well, but when ‘push came to shove,’ Alan would back down.

“I’m no worse than anyone else.”

Another mantra. Vince felt it was time to do a little shoving.

“And that makes it okay? Alan…you’ve said I don’t know how many times that it hurts that he’s gone, but at the same time you minimize…like it isn’t that big a deal. Your body language tells me otherwise. You’re really being unfair to yourself; especially now that you’re coming to grips with who Jimmy really was to you.”

“I don’t understand.” Alan frowned; an expression that belied his statement. He knew exactly what Vince had meant.

“You’re a widow.” Vince said it candidly; the first time that word was used to acknowledge Alan's loss.

Alan looked away. He was wearing slacks and a polo shirt, and his hair was near military length, but to Jimmy? Had Jimmy still been alive, it would have been highly likely that Allie would be sitting in front of Vince instead of Alan, even in a military hospital setting, and for completely different reasons. But Alan survived instead; perhaps more than one soul perished on that street in Iraq that night. Alan looked at Vince and tried to speak but the denial on his lips died as he wept.

Next: Allie’s Chance

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Comments

To the Puccini of BCTS

littlerocksilver's picture

Once again you start to tear my heart out. There is a difference though between you and Giacomo. You won't stomp on my heart. You will make it stronger.

Girl.jpg
Portia

Portia

“You’re a widow.”

I wonder how many "widows" are out there, unknown, unappreciated, their losses hidden but no easier to take ....

But Allie has someone who knows and understands, now, at least. Excellent chapter, as always.

Dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

The Major

RAMI

Is Alan in the reserves or fully discharged. If he still has a military obligation then the doctor who even though retired may have a reserve obligation, is following a dangerous course between following his role as a Psychologist who is treating Alan and as Major who Can Not Ask. IF Alan admits that he is Allie, he would be in danger of being discharged from the service and losing his Veteran's benefits.

It is surprising that he is still afraid to tell his family that he is a nurse.

RAMI

RAMI

As a vet...

This hurts...

As a writer, you reached deep into my heart and poked spots I thought I could put away.
I can think of a lot of friends of mine that I served with, both male and female that were shadow widows...

As a soldier, it breaks my heart to see yet another soldier hurting and unable to help them.
There are far too many of us.

But you are so right. They are never publicly acknowledged, but widows nonetheless.

An amazing piece of writing, thank you.

Hidden widows...

Ole Ulfson's picture

We've all know a few. I just never understood why they had to remain in hiding. In the '70s my wife and I had good friends who were gay and lived together openly. Anyone with eyes to see with could witness to their love. One held a high position in a large financial institution which frowned against "People like that". Did I mention this was in the deep south?

Though they lived together, they had to act like strangers out side of their home.

So Sad,

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!