"Sandy And Brad – Ch-01"
"Home Comes The Warrior"
Part 1
"On The Sidewalk"
The uniformed Marine who was wearing his Dress Uniform with Sargent stripes with several ribbons, was standing on the sidewalk beside the taxi cab, leaning on his cane. He was waiting for the driver to get his bags from the trunk. He took a deep breath and slowly breathed out in a long, slow, tired sigh.
There was no one here. He had called. They said they would be right down. Of ourse, he realized, he had only called when he got here. He was just so wrapped up with his Discharge and returning home. And he was feeling so tired from the long hours of traveling. But this was not his home. And he knew that his parents were not coming. They had died two months ago in a car accident, while he lay unconscious in a Military Hospital in Germany.
There had been a letter waiting for him when he had awoke in the hospital. It was from his Mom. Written when his Mom and Dad had last visited. There was also a small bundle of letters from his best friend. Since then he had read his Mom's letter every day. As well as the others. He now carried his Mother's letter with him in his pocket. With it was another letter from his best friend. The last one she had written. His Best Friend, the girl he dated in High School. It was just one of many he had received from her while in the hospital. And that friend who had also made the trip to visit him in Germany several times, even when he was unconscious.
Sandra Brooks, his long time friend from high school, had been there when he was awoken in Germany. He was so happy to see her. Then after a time she had the hard task of informing him of the death of his parents. And Sandy had stayed with him as he grieved. It had been so much to take in those first few hours he was awake. And Sandy had remained there holding his hand.
And she had insisted, that when he was released, he was to come back to live with her. She would not take no for an answer. And he could not think of any other place he wanted to be. And he finally realized just how much he cared for her. So he had readily agreed. And he knew, deep down, this was what he had wanted. After all those years, he was happy to be going home to her. That was what she had told when she left two weeks ago. He was to come home to her.
And at the time, back in the hospital, it was the single bright spot in his life. It was what kept him working hard those last two months he spent in the hospital. To go home to Sandy.
He glanced up at the apartment building. It looked to be about twenty five stories high. Again he looked at the number on the building. 1776 Liberty Ave. He smiled. He really liked the address. And this was where he was suppose to come and be met.
Taking another deep breath he blew it out as he began to feel how tired he was from the trip from Germany. The long overnight flight to New York and then there was the several hours of waiting for his connecting flight. And both of his legs still ached from his wounds, the numerous surgeries and the stiffness from being in bed for months recovering. And his back was sore from those hard as rock, plastic airport chairs. He snorted. He ached all over.
He yawned. Maybe, he thought I should have stayed over night in New York. Then he remembered all the connecting flights were booked solid for the next three days. So he endured the wait, thinking mostly of getting home to see his best friend. The girl he was in love with. His High School Sweetheart.
He then shook his head in disgust, again thinking of the asshole of a TSA Agent in New York, who did not believe he had all that metal in him from his surgical pins and metal plates in his left leg, holding the bones together and several more pins in both arms. The only questions the Agent kept asking were: What was he hiding? And why? But what really boiled him was when the Agent demanded he take off his artificial right leg for examination.
He remembered he was getting so irritated at the agent's stupidity, he had thought about stuffing him into a near-by trash bin. In pieces.
Fortunately, a TSA Supervisor showed up and had quickly got him on his way. Good thing too, he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. He had walked away with both agents' names. He would be filing both a strongly worded complaint and a thank you.
He again shifted his stance to ease the pain in his left leg. He needed a nice long nap. And he knew it would help a lot to get his perspective back. He never was quick to anger, but that TSA Agent had almost pushed him too far.
He sighed again.
And he knew, that his stiffness and pain was also from his not being active while in the hospital. Due to his injuries he had been sedated for quite sometime. The doctors had stated that the pain would fade in time and for him to take it slow and easy. Until then he had the prescription for some pain pills. And a bottle with a bunch of them was in his duffel bag. He sighed. He hated taking them. His mind got fuzzy from them and they made him sleepy too. Something else he was going to have to deal with.
Sighing heavily he realized that he had spent far too long medically sedated as his brain slowly recovered and healed from the pounding it had taken when he had been injured.
Perhaps at bed time would be best.
His thoughts again drifted back to that last hazy day in Afghanistan.
And to the wounds he had received in Afghanistan. Wounds that had placed him in a Military Hospital in Germany for months. Wounds that got him discharged with a full medical. Wounds that got him a Purple Heart.
He sighed, shaking his head. Like he really wanted a medal. All he had wanted, was to get those in his squad through their tour and get them home, without loosing anyone. And there I was, he thought, on my third combat tour and I'm the one sent home. His Military Career finished after seven years. He looked down at the sidewalk. Down at his legs. Well, one leg, he again reminded himself bitterly. He had nothing left of his planned future.
He sighed heavily.
"Brad!!!" came an excited female voice from behind the Marine.
He turned. A smile filled his face. "Sandy!"
Sandy rushed up and stopped about two feet before him. She was at least four inches taller than the Marine. She had long auburn hair which she wore loose, her greenish eyes sparkled and she had a big beautiful smile. She reached out and gently touched his arms. Then she started crying looking at him. "You're home, Brad. You're home."
"Sandy, I won't break," stated Brad as he held out his left arm.
She looked down at his legs then slowly up his body then at his face. Then into his eyes. Her smile faded.
"I promise," stated Brad as he dropped the cane and took a slow step to her while wrapping his arms about her.
Sandy quickly joined him and hugged him, holding him tight against her. She rested her head against his. "Oh, Brad!" was all she could say before she started weeping again.
The Cab Driver closed the trunk and set a pair of green duffel bags down on the sidewalk. He then reached down and picked up the cane and waited.
Brad looked at the Cab Driver.
"When I got home from Nam," said the Driver, "my Mom cried for hours. Even my Dad cried." He shook his head. "I can wait, Marine. For a home coming. I'm in no rush."
Sandy finally stood back, still holding him at arm's length, looking at Brad. Tears still running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and sighed as she smiled at him. "You must be tired."
"A bit," agreed Brad. "Had a seven hour delay in New York."
"You should have called me," pouted Sandy. "I would have come to New York to get you. Even to Germany."
He smiled. "Wanted to surprise you," returned Brad.
"You certainly did!" declared Sandy. "Was not expecting you until Friday."
"Got released early," replied Brad.
"Sargent Cassidy," said the Cab Driver.
Brad turned to look at the driver. "Yes?"
"Do you need help with your bags?" asked the driver.
Sandy smiled at him with tears still running down her face. "I can handle them."
"Wait!" said the Cab Driver, pointing at her. "You're Sandra Brooks the tennis player."
"The one and only," confirmed Brad.
"My grand daughter is a big fan," stated the Driver. "She watches all of your matches."
Sandy smiled. "Does she play?"
"She does," answered the Driver. "Still just starting. Been playing for a couple of years."
"I'm sponsoring a tennis camp this summer" said Sandy. "Actually two one week camps. Here in the city."
"We know," returned the driver. "But the cost is too much for us."
"Can I borrow a pen?" asked Sandy pointing at the pens in the driver's shirt pocket.
"Sure." He handed her one.
Sandy pulled out a small pile of elastic wrapped business cards from her pocket. She pulled one out from the elastic. "My card. This is the Bradford Returning Active Veterans Endeavor. Or as I like to call it The Brave Endeavor. Its sponsoring the Tennis Camps." She wrote a phone number on the back then signed it. "Have your grand daughter call me. Her name?"
"Kimberly."
"Kimberly," repeated Sandy as she again wrote on the back of the card.
"Bradford?" questioned Brad.
Sandy laughed and pointed at Brad. "BRAVE is named for him. Bradford!" She turned to Brad.
Brad shook his head, confused.
"I needed a name," chuckled Sandy. "And yes I got the idea sitting there watching you in the hospital. And while talking to the others and their families." She looked back at the Cab Driver. "The VA and the military do a lot. But sometimes the Veterans or their families need something they can't afford or something hard to find. Or help and they don't know who to turn to. Or they maybe need some type of medical equipment. The foundation is there for that."
"Big order," stated the Cab Driver.
Sandy handed her card and the pen to him. "Not really. Not when our Veterans are so Brave. If they can step up and do those hard things that need to be done. Then we should step up and support them when they need it. Usually its just us doing the research and connecting the two together. Its surprising how much help we do get." She looked at him. "Have Kimberly call me tomorrow. We have plans for tonight."
"Understood," replied the Driver. He shook his head. "Still can't afford it."
Sandy smiled. "Don't worry about the cost. I'll wave her fees."
The Driver stopped and just looked at Sandy for a moment. "Thank you. Thank you very much."
The driver then held out a card to Brad. "Sir, if you or Miss. Brooks ever need a ride. Call the company and ask for number 52 or use my name, Dave Tanner. I'm usually on days."
"Thanks," replied Brad taking the card. "What's the fare?"
The driver held out his hand.
Brad took the offered hand and shook it.
The driver said, "Marine, you already paid your fare."
"But..."
"Nam!" stated Tanner. "My reception when I got home was 'Hanoi Jane' and getting spit on by a bunch of war protesters. I vowed never to let that happen to another service man or woman. You all deserve better."
Still holding Tanner's hand, Brad gave him a firm handshake. "Thank you."
Tanner looked at Sandy. "Take real good care of him."
