Schoen The Other Mary

1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-1-6678-3311-8
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 764 Seiten

Unlike her two older brothers, Mary chose to put off college so she could experience life outside the classroom. She worked at a Medicaid clinic in her central Illinois hometown and, at the suggestion of her boyfriend, joined the medical detachment of an infantry battalion, Illinois National Guard. She began to consider a medical career, until ... in July 2003, the President federalized her Guard unit and sent it to Iraq. There she did indeed experience life outside the classroom, including the appalling living conditions of her fellow human beings, the death of her two fellow soldiers, the loss of her hand and foot, and the introduction to her own sexuality. The Other Mary deals with the effects of war on the survivors. Human sexuality becomes a central part of Mary's approach when she becomes a clinical psychologist. And it sizzles in her many romances.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Schoen, Robert

Leseproben

5 Glenda on the Bus
  “So, do you mind sharing the war with me, Mary? As you can see from this cross I wear around my neck, I’m a Christian, but a Christian who’s very confused about why we must kill Muslims.” “That is a beautiful gold cross, hanging between your breasts. I’m sure Michael William gazes at it every time you nurse him, and I wonder if he will remember it. But yes, I guess I’d better share the war with you, because all the psychiatrists at the VA tell me to talk about it, even when it hurts, as if that were the way to replace my hand and foot.” “Oh, you have an injured foot too?” “Yes, the right one. So, we got our federalization orders in May 2003, two months after the invasion of Iraq, when the war was supposedly over. We had two weeks to get our affairs in order before reporting to a base in Texas for further training, and to augment our ranks with reservists from around the country. “For my boyfriend Sam and me, two weeks were more than enough. But for many of our married comrades with children, tearing out those roots of normal civilian life was very painful. Still, we all went. By September, we were all in Kuwait getting used to sand, 110 degree days, and 50 degree nights.” “I didn’t realize it could get that cold there,” Glenda said. “Oh yes; that’s because the air is so dry, the ground doesn’t hold the sun’s warmth. A few weeks later, we were in a long convoy consisting of trucks full of battalions of infantry troops, supply trucks, armored Stryker vehicles, and Humvees, all headed north. We passed through Baghdad late at night, then arrived in Mosul in midmorning heat. “After that it was mostly days of hot, dry boredom, punctuated with minutes of terror. Though located in the relatively peaceful Kurdish part of Iraq, Mosul contained many Sunnis, moved in over the years by Saddam to help pacify the Kurds. And many Shiites also lived in the oil-rich city. But this simple triumvirate of power ignored the dozens of tribes and clans claiming the loyalty of the warlords. Even more confusing for me were the languages I heard on the streets and sometimes in my hospital building. Very often Iraqis were brought in for treatment. Mostly women and children, just like the Medicaid clinic in Epicenter, dazed and frightened, and unable to understand those of us trying to help them. In the case of the Iraqis, it was even more difficult trying to understand the foreign liberator-invaders. Although I could try to comfort them, there was no safe haven I could send them to. It was more like ‘Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,’ as poorly translated by an Iraqi from the south who didn’t understand northern dialects.” “It sounds like a confused mess. Wasn’t anyone in charge?” “I was just a grunt, the equivalent of a corporal. If there was some grand master plan, nobody confided it to me. One day in January ‘04, we were scheduled to go out on patrol in our Humvee ambulance with a group of vehicles, including those big armored Strykers. I remember now all too well the strange feeling I had that morning, of foreboding. Of course, you can’t really talk about such feelings, especially if you’re a woman.” “I’m getting the feeling that this was your last patrol.” “Right. I heard a loud roar, and felt pain on my right side as my Humvee ambulance rolled onto its side; we were hit by a rocket propelled grenade, an RPG. Machine gun fire from our Stryker vehicles quickly killed those who’d fired the RPG. But my driver was dead, the Sergeant who was sitting in the passenger seat was dying, and I could do little to help because I was bleeding to death. “Other medics put tourniquets on my right arm and leg and got an IV going. Within hours, I was lying on a gurney in an Air Force freighter plane headed for a military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. All of this was told to me later, because I was in a coma for a week.” “Wow, Mary, it certainly sounds as if you have lived a lot of life.” “Yes. That’s for sure. Has my talking bothered Michael William?” “No, he seems to be whimpering for his rations. Pass him back to me, Mary, and I’ll see if I can nurse him without provoking a sex orgy in the bus.” “Let’s not worry if there are any voyeuristic men or prudish women on board; nurse Michael William and enjoy him.” Glenda opened the top of her blue nursing dress, exposing a black lace nursing bra that she opened, allowing the boy access to her nipples. “I never realized you could get such attractive clothing for motherhood,” Mary said. “I’m only twenty years old, Mary. I still want to be an attractive and sexy woman. I’m trying to make up for my first big mistake and now take charge of my life.” “Good for you.” “So what happened when you reached Germany?” “That’s when things get hard for me to talk about. Basically, when I woke, they told me I’d been in a coma for a week, that my hand and foot had been so badly damaged that they had to amputate. But they thought I’d recover. “That was a year ago. Now I’m on my way home from Walter Reed Army Hospital, a civilian, looking to start life all over again.” “I just got a dirty look from that lady two seats forward on the other side. Why did she think she had to turn and look back here at me?” “Glenda, some people just can’t help themselves from looking for things that offend them. You’ve made her day; be glad of it.” Glenda put a spit-up cloth on her shoulder and gently patted the boy’s back until he emitted a loud burp. “Pardon the smell of motherhood, Mary, but I guess you remember it from your clinic days.” “Of course I do. I think everything having to do with babies is sweet, even the smells.” “So, based on your experience of war, what is your conclusion as to why we must always have wars?” “I’m sorry to say that I think the major factor is testosterone; a hormone that will start coming out of little Michael William’s testicles, his little balls, and start flooding his bloodstream to change him into a man in about eight or ten years.” “So you’re saying my innocent little babe-in-arms could become a bloodthirsty killer someday?” “Yes he could, but he doesn’t have to. I know at least a few men who are every bit as masculine as any man, and are far better lovers of women than most men, who are also sensitive and caring people. I’m not at all sure how they avoid growing up with the twisted brains that glorify violence. But I think it helps if the boy gets some exposure to that right kind of man. Yet I think you implied that there is no husband in your picture?” “There will be a suitable male to mentor Michael William.” “I’ve told you my story about the war, and I do feel better. Would you tell me yours?”   “I hail from a tiny coal-mining town in West Virginia. My mama and daddy grew up there too. Daddy was a coal miner all his life, but he got injured in a rock fall, and we had to live on his Worker’s Comp. He was a bitter man after the accident. All he could do was drink beer and limp around the house with a tin can, spitting up black spit.” “Black Lung disease?” “Probably. He contracted pneumonia last August and died at the age of 59.” “I’m sorry Glenda; that’s sad.” “Neither mama or daddy got past the sixth grade. Our public school was the shits. (Pardon my French.) But a library bookmobile came around every week and I haunted it. I loved books. I graduated high school and met a boy there. I wish I hadn’t. He turned out to be no good.” “I’m guessing he’s the one who knocked you up?” “Right. At least he married me. The town would have lynched him if he hadn’t. But as soon as Michael William was born, he ran. I don’t know where he is.” “We are both so young, but we’ve been dealt a rotten hand to start off life with, Glenda. What will you do?” “I started taking classes at a local community college. I had to drive 25 miles each way, but I know I need more education if I’m going to be a single mom. But maybe I won’t have to be single for too long.” “What do you mean?” “One of the teachers was a young assistant professor from Ohio State, sort of volunteering in the coal fields to work off his education loans.” “Is he going to be your Mr. Right?” “I don’t know for sure yet. All I know for sure is that he thinks I’m Ms. Right and he just loves Michael William. He knows how I feel about sex right now and he’s not pushing me.” “Don’t you need to get a divorce?” “My mama got it done with some pro-bono lawyers.” Glenda shifted Michael William in her lap. “It looks like we’re coming into Columbus, and the sun is coming up behind us. I hope it will be a nice day. Would you hold Michael William again while I get myself together?” “Sure; pass him here. I’d like to trade addresses with you so we can touch base in our futures and perhaps have happier things to share. Here’s a couple of cards...