Aspirations Beyond

It is my last day that I have to be stuck in this hospital bed. I can honestly say that I am relieved. Isabella has been having great difficulty with traveling back and forth to the hospital. Yes, she still has a little less than three months to go, but the woman is huge, and she is struggling. I have picked the perfect time to be useless.

Now, my mother insisted on staying, but I think I might have just killed my father. Well, my mother would keep on telling me to sit down while my father would scold me for not listening. Needless to say, my family have gone back home, where they are eagerly waiting for us to return.

That is a discussion that Isabella and I will need to have later.

So, after she schedules her next ultrasound, she and a rather mean nurse that had done nothing but argue with me when I wanted to do something for myself, they both come walking into the room with a wheelchair.

Ya, that is where I stop it, "I am not getting into that fucking thing."

"Clayton!" Isabella raises her voice but a fraction, "You do know that the baby can hear you?"

I only but chuckle at her, "Ya, right. He is in your stomach."

She bites down on her lip and slightly cock her head; I know that just around about now, "Get into that damn thing, or I make you."

"Boo," I softly whisper. "The baby can hear you. Damn is also, well perhaps it might be a curse word."

She steps only but a few steps closer to me, and of course, there is no way I am running, so the flat of her hand knocks the back of my head. "Stop being a wise-ass and get into that wheelchair."

"But, boo, can't they give me crutches?"

"Don't, you worry, those are in the car, but there ain't no way that you are walking there." I look at her as her ears are turning slightly red. Yes, she is mad. So I do as she says, and the nurse helps me into the wheelchair.

But then the thought comes to me, "Who is going to help me out of the car? There is no way I am letting you lift my buff ass out at home."

She but only shakes her head at me as she hisses under her breath, "Galland as at home waiting."

Well, there is a friendly face that I know I would like to see. So after struggling, very much to my frustration, to get into the wheelchair so that I can sit comfortably, the nurses pushes me down the corridor towards the entrance.

As we reach the door, I look at Isabella, and I can see some relief roll over her face. I take her hand and lace my fingers into hers, "Don't worry, boo, the next time we see this place is when that boy is born."

She stops for but one second and place her hands on her waist; she points down to her belly as she puffs her lips, "Who said that this is going to be a boy?"

"Well, if the baby is making you so moody, then it has to be a boy."

"Please explain to me how you came to that conclusion?"

"I am a boy, and you get moody at me."

Ya, she does not find that quite as funny as I am finding it.

The nurse only but chuckles as she helps me into the car; then, just before she leaves, she places her hand gently on my shoulder, "You will be fine. Now, please, I do not want to see you in my ward again."

Just as I am about to give her a wise-ass comment, she closes the door on me and walks off. I watch as poor Isabella needs to get that belly of her behind the steering wheel. And, fuck, do I feel even more shit about myself. Though the minute she sees me staring, she stops and points at me, "I am also okay, so please do not think you need to treat me special." She places a soft kiss on my lips, "You are not useless."

Well, I guess I am not going to argue; she is a woman with a purpose, and her purpose right now is to get me home.

The drive home is fairly quiet; I know a hundred things are running over in her mind, and trust me, I am almost sure it is the same ones that are making thread marks in mine. If there were a way that I can fast forward our lives past four months, then I would grab the opportunity if it presents itself. Unfortunately, we will have to navigate our lives into the great unknown for now. I do not have all the answers that she has the questions for; hell, I don't know how to answer some of my own. Right now, there are only two things that count, where are we staying, and where am I going to go.

But I push that to the back of my mind, for we are coming up to the driveway where I can see Galland waiting for us in his car. Now, as the man gets out, there is definitely the same expression that everyone has the first time they laid their eyes on me. Guess I am going to get that one for some while to come.

As soon as we come to a stop, he rushes to my door; as he opens it for me, I watch him gasp, "Fuck, Lieutenant, you really messed up this time."

I look at Isabella and then look at him, then I softly whisper, "You cannot say fuck. Mommy over there says that the baby can hear you."

Galland can hardly contain his laughter as Isabella walks ahead to go open the front door. I don't know how she is doing it, but she is keeping strong and motivated. I hope, after all this mess, that she still knows how much I love her.

What else I love is the expression on Galland's face as he hopelessly tries to get me out of the front seat. Now the man can handle a missile launcher, but he cannot lift a man out of a car. After what seems almost five minutes, he has me out and ready to walk in these damn fucking crutches. Ya, Isabella, I just cursed twice again.

But I do feel so much better as I can walk myself to the door. As I confidently walk into the house, I can see that there is a smile on Isabella's face. If she keeps on smiling like that whenever I can prove myself, then being stuck useless will be worthwhile.

So, while she is off making coffee, Galland sits opposite me in the lounge; he only but shakes his head, and I know it is out of frustration. Not only frustration but guilt. I know that he is punishing himself, for he thinks he could have done something different.

"Hey," I call for him to look me in the eyes. "There is nothing that you could have done. It happened. You know how it is out there."

"Clay," he runs his hand nervously through his hair. "You were in my squad. You were my responsibility."

"Yes, and I am the Lieutenant. You all are my responsibility." I drop my head and stare at the scars on my hands that will remind me of that day. Then I look back to Galland again, "Those forty-three Marines were my responsibility. Stop beating yourself up about it. We all know what we sign up for."

"But, fuck, Clay." I watch as he clasps his hand in front of his mouth and looks if Isabella has heard him. I only but chuckle as he carries on, "You already so beaten up, it should not have happened."

"Galland, if it did not happen to me, it would have happened to someone else. Hey, I was in the right place at the wrong time. Shit happens. We are Marines. Shit is always going to happen."

"I think your misses are going to slap you; that was twice you cursed."

I swear if I could, I would have gotten up and slapped him against the head, so all I but do is throw a scatter cushion at him. But then his face turns all serious again, "So what are you going to do now? Are you going back home?"

"Well…"

I watch as he raises his eyebrows.

Then he looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, "What are you up to, Lieutenant? Is it Clayton or still Lieutenant?"

"Well," I start again. "That, my dear friend, that is a good question."

"You are surely not thinking of coming back?" He looks at me and only but shakes his head, "You know that you are fucking crazy if you are?"

"I am, well, my aspirations have grown. Let us just say that Caylee had some other effect on me too."

"You are surely not…" He stops immediately as he sees Isabella enter.