Of all the moments burned into my memories, having two uniformed Marines walk up my driveway is the most chilling.
I was getting ready to leave to inspect a construction site when I saw them. I was halfway out of the door, blueprints bundled in my arms when I realized who they were. I vaguely remember everything in my arms spilling to the ground as my increasing heartbeat filled my ears and breakfast suddenly soured in my stomach. In retrospect, I realize I was a bad move cliche right then.
“Mr. Jones? We need to inform you that your daughter is alive, but has been injured in the line of duty.”
Alive? I didn’t hear much after that. I remember one of the Marines holding me up as my knees started to buckle.
“What happened?” I managed to choke out.
“We’re not at liberty to discuss the details, sir, though to be honest there’s still a lot we don’t know. What we can tell you is that she is on her way to Walter Reed and should be arriving shortly.”
“I… I have to… have to get there.” I stammered, various airlines running through my head.
“Sir?” one of the Marines spoke up, “I’ve taken the liberty of contacting Luke’s Wings. They help with transportation of wounded service members and their families. There’s a Civil Air Patrol KC-135 leaving for DC in a few hours. They were able to work out a jump seat for you.”
I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself into father-mode. Do what needs to be done, take care of what needs to be taken care of, deal with emotions and worry when the dust settles.
“Sir?” he asked me.
“Can you wait five minutes while I get a few things?”
“Of course, sir.”
I ran back inside, grabbed a travel bag, threw a couple of changes of clothes in as well as a few toiletries, and locked the house as we left. Anything I missed I could buy up there. I made a couple of calls on the way to the airport to have some friends check on the house and make sure I didn’t forget something that would cause it to burn down. The drive seemed to take forever, but there was nothing that could be done about it. I just sat there and, despite my best efforts, became consumed by worry.
“Thank you, by the way.” I said to the Marine who spoke to me at the house earlier.
“Of course, sir.” He nodded, then looked back at me, “I have a daughter.” He offered as way of explanation.
I just nodded, two dads understanding the unbreakable bonds that form. As we drove, I stared at my phone, and for the hundredth time contemplated calling Kathy. She needs to know, but what could I tell her at the moment other than ‘I have no real information yet.’? Finally, mainly out of nothing else to do, I decided to call.
“Will?” she said, surprised to hear from me.
“Hey. Where are you?”
“At work, where else would I be?”
“Okay, listen, I don’t know all the details yet, but Zoe’s been hurt.”
“What!?”
“I’m headed to the airport now. They don’t know everything yet.”
“What happened?!”
“I told you, I don’t know. She’s at Walter Reed or will be soon. I’m on my way to meet her.”
“So she’s alive?”
“Yeah.” I answered, not knowing for certain myself if that was still true.
“I knew something like this would happen.” she said, almost smugly.
“Well, powers of prognostication aside, I’ll let you know the minute I find out anything.”
“You’d better.” she said, hanging up.
Well, that went about as I expected.
****
The KC-135 landed at Andrews Air Force Base with a heavy thud and jolted me awake. I was chilled to the bone and the earplugs were starting to hurt. All the anxiety must’ve worn me out more than I had expected for me to doze off on this flying chest freezer.
There was a Marine representative waiting for me when I exited. She was dressed in her fatigues and took me to a waiting car. Traffic meant it took us 45 minutes to get there, but eventually we made it to Walter Reed.
As fast as I could, I made my way to the surgical ward. Unfortunately, the nurses there could only tell me that she was in surgery and the doctors would be out to speak with me as soon as possible. It was an agonizing six hours before one of them finally came out to meet me. I don’t remember half of the medical jargon he used, but it boiled down to the fact that Zoe was alive, but extremely injured.
He was able to give me more information about what happened, though I still didn’t get all of the details. She was in a convoy when they hit some IEDs. One of the blasts went off directly underneath her side of the vehicle. He had me sit down as he delivered the hard news.
he wasn’t sure how much of either could be saved. While they were amazed that was there wasn’t more internal The blast had severely damaged her right arm and leg, and damage, there appeared to be some minor damage to her spine. She was still in surgery; the 2nd shift of surgeons had taken over.
The doctor, went into some more detail, but I didn’t hear much of that. I just sat there and tried not to throw up. After the doctor left, I ran to the bathroom.
The call to Zoe’s mom went about as well as anyone could expect. I was yelled at for not calling again sooner, and my explanations that I didn’t have any new information were not acceptable. I managed to give her a brief synopsis of what the doctor told me, which spurred her to get on a plane. The calls to her brothers were easier with much less yelling.
I wandered the halls of the hospital, trying to think but completely unable to. Eventually, I found myself in the chapel, though I have no recollection of seeking it out. I sat in a pew, stared at the non-denominational stained glass, and felt the tears flow. It was the 2nd time in recent memory I had cried.
****
After the final round of surgery, the doctors broke it down for me. It was not pretty. Her right leg had to be completely amputated at the hip joint. Her right arm was removed from the below the elbow. There were a few minor scars on her face that a little plastic surgery could repair. The final blow was her spine. Until she woke up they wouldn’t know how extensive the damage was. Assuming she wasn’t paralyzed, the road to recovery was going to be long and difficult.
When I was finally able to see Zoe, they had moved her into a private room. I almost fell to my knees when I saw her. She looked so small and frail on the bed. She was covered in bandages, and what little skin was exposed was bruised or burned. I pulled a chair beside her and took her hand in mine. Weariness set in and I wondered how long it had been since I last slept. This morning? Yesterday? It was on the plane, but I couldn’t remember when exactly that was. I leaned forward and put my head beside her hand. I blinked, but I don’t think I opened my eyes.
I was, however, jostled awake suddenly by hearing my ex-wife’s voice.
“Oh my God!” She practically screamed.
It took a few moments for it to set in who was speaking. I noticed it was daylight outside, though I could have sworn it was dusk when I sat down. I must’ve been more tired than I thought, though I was still exhausted.
“Hey.” I said wearily. Sitting up, every muscle in my back screamed at me for falling asleep slumped over.