The sky was a strange shade of amber that day, as Bobby stared out the hospital window, clad only in shorts that featured the world champion Yankees. He was leaning on the radiator, staring out the window like that when Nurse Anderson opened the door to whoosh Bobby out of bed. She started upon seeing all six feet of him standing there with nothing on but his underwear. She had to remind herself that he was, after all, harmless.
“Bobby, I see you’re up bright and early this morning!”
The man turned around, chewing a wad of Bazooka Joe, and blew a huge bubble that burst in all its glory, pink covering the greater part of his face. As he picked it off, he swore aloud.
“Bobby, where’d you learn such language! You know that’s not allowed here. And what are you doing, chewing bubble gum at seven o’clock in the morning?” Bobby didn’t look at the nurse. He continued picking the sticky stuff off his face.
“You need to hurry up and get dressed and go down for some breakfast. You’re having some visitors this morning.” Bobby turned to the window again, picking and placing the pink gum shrapnel in his hand. “Do you hear me, Bobby?”
Bobby turned slowly and lowered his head.
“Y-y-yes, Miss Anders.”
“Go on then, get cleaned up.” Bobby walked carefully to the bathroom, staring at the floor as if he were walking over specters hidden in the green hospital carpet. Dawn Anderson shook her head and walked quickly out of the room.
By 7:30, Bobby had washed, dressed in his standard cutoffs, sleeveless T-shirt, and baseball cap, had made his way down to the cafeteria, stopping to say hello to the nice cashier who always snuck him a Hershey bar when nobody was looking, and had returned to his clean white sheets. He was leafing through an Atom Man comic book he’d gotten for Hanukkah, chomping on another huge wad of bubble gum that he had hidden under the table of the nightstand the day before, his cap crooked sideways like a drunken Aaron Judge when the doctor ushered his mother and Rita through the door. Rita was hanging on to his mother, a Kleenex lifted to her face. Bobby didn’t know why his mother always brought that skinny woman with her. She was always crying, blowing her nose, or kissing him. Why did girls always have to cry? His mother never did. She was always bright and cheerful, bringing Bobby the latest baseball cards (he had a huge collection). Bobby secretly wished she would leave Rita at home.
He stared intently into his comic book, blowing a small bubble, pretending that he hadn’t noticed the trio’s entry. Doctor Gray, a white-haired man who specialized in cases such as Bobby’s, stepped up to the side of the bed and patted Bobby on the shoulder. “How’s my best boy doing today?”
Bobby blew another bubble and looked up at the man. Rita smiled, her eyes puffy from crying. The doctor prodded Bobby: “Aren’t you going to say hello to your guests, Robert?”
He stared at the two women. He tilted his head back for a moment, said “Hi Mom, hi Rita,” then put his nose back into his comic book.
“Bobby,” the doctor said, “it’s not very nice to ignore your mother and your wi…, your friend, when they’ve come all this way especially to see you.”
Bobby threw the comic book down at the foot of the bed and looked up at the doctor. “I’m sorry, Doc Gray, but I was just at the part where Atom-Man finds the Black Bear, and he’s just about to push the plunger and….”
“Well, never mind that right now, Bobby. Look what Rita brought for you.”
Bobby wrinkled his nose at the cake. “Yecch. I hate chocolate. I always hated chocolate.”
Rita turned toward Bobby’s mother. “But I thought you told me he always liked chocolate when he was…” She studied the palms of her hands.
“Bobby, you always like chocolate when I make it for you,” his mother said.
“I like your chocolate cake, Mom. But not when she makes it.”
Rita let out a long breath. “I don’t believe you, Bobby. One day you tell me one thing and the next day another. You just do it to make me mad, don’t you!”
Bobby’s eyes turned misty. His mother put her arm around him. “There, there, Bobby. She didn’t mean anything by it.” Rita shot Mrs. Steinberg a look of disbelief. She threw up her hands and said,
“That’s it! I just can’t take this anymore!” Then she walked quickly out of the room, Dr. Gray following close behind.
“What’s the matter with her, Mom?”
“Oh, nothing, son. She’s just a little disappointed. Never mind that, though. Give Momma a great big smile. That’s good. Today’s a very special day, Bobby. You know what day it is?”
“My birthday.”
“That’s right, Honey. You know how old you are today?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“That’s right! Oh, you’re doing so well, Dear.” A tear came to Doris Steinberg’s eye, which she tried to conceal, as she pressed her lips to Bobby’s forehead.
***
“I can’t, Doctor, I just can’t take it anymore. It’s a nightmare! One day I’m married to a bright, handsome, successful stockbroker and the next day I’m playing mother — or second mother — to him. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
Rita, in a huff, turned to walk down the hallway.
The doctor gently grasped her arm, and she turned around to face him.
“Listen, Rita. You know it’s going to take time. We told you that from the very beginning. He’s regressed and found a happier time in his life to return to recuperate. For any man to have not been affected after all Robert’s gone through would be highly unusual.”
Rita’s face reddened. “Let me remind you, doctor, that everything he went through I went through too! How do you think I felt when I saw what those men did to my only son right before my eyes! Those bastards!” Rita clenched her fists and began to weep softly. The doctor placed his hands on her shoulders.
“I know, Rita, I know. But you’re much stronger than Robert right now. And he needs that strength of yours.”
“But he doesn’t even want to see me! He told his mother….”
“He will, he will want to see you soon, Rita. I promise. He’s making steady progress. Two months ago he didn’t even know his own name. No telling what’ll happen in another couple of months. And when he’s fully recovered, he’ll want you to be there.” The woman nodded weakly.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee, Rita.” His arm paternally around her, he led Rita down the hallway.
* * *
Bobby had just gotten his baseball cards out to show his mother when the air raid sirens began to wail. Looking out the window, the sky had turned ashen, flashes of light dancing across the sky. Then came the thunder.
A voice came over the loudspeaker as sirens from various distances joined in a clamorous cry. The voice crackled: “Please do not panic. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. All residents are requested to proceed in an orderly fashion to the basement of this building. Those who are unable to do so on their own will be aided by attendants. Do not panic!”
Mrs. Steinberg stared out the window as the thunder grew closer. Despite the darkness, parts of the city seemed to emit an eerie sort of light. Without a second to spare Mrs. Steinberg grabbed Bobby’s arm, whispering under her breath, “My God, my God.” She pulled Bobby out of bed and toward the hallway.
“Oww Mom, you’re hurting me!”
“Never mind that now, Bobby! There’s no time to argue!”
The corridor was filled with crazed bodies running this way, twisting that way. Mrs. Steinberg pulled her son into the stream, leading him by the arm. Their bodies banged against one another until Mrs. Steinberg could no longer hold on to her son. The crush of bodies pushed forward and Mrs. Steinberg couldn’t fight her way back. She shouted Bobby’s name until she could no longer be heard. The blasts were loud now, echoing in the streets.
Bobby managed to make his way back to his room. He left the light off, and delighted at the show of lights and color, the whirring whine of the planes overhead, and the tremendous bursts of sound and light outside his window. He had never had a birthday like this before. It was like the Fourth of July!
Bobby heard someone coming down the hall, coming closer, and he quickly hid in the closet.
“Anyone in here?”
Bobby could see only the man’s shadow as he stood for a moment, then turned and ran back into the corridor.
After a few minutes, Bobby crept out of the closet, singing a song that seemed unfamiliar but that he somehow knew the words to, as the crashing drums played around him. He went to the corridor. There was a man down the hall, but besides him, the corridor was now empty. Bobby carefully closed the door, humming the tune, the words flying through his head…”The rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air…”
He propped himself against the radiator, sitting there with his cap set backwards on his head, as the lights grew brighter, fires blazing in the streets below. It was all too much! Better than television or any movie he had ever seen.
Along with the drums’ steady beat and the whining planes overhead, there was a new sound, a rat-tat-tat that added a nice percussion section to his one-man concert. Only now he had forgotten the words to the song.
Suddenly, there was light from the corridor. Two helmeted men stood at the door, shining a powerful beam toward him. They were dressed in green camouflage uniforms. Bobby didn’t move. The light of the beam played off one of the men’s helmets, and a clear image formed in Bobby’s mind. There was an unnamed boy, about three or four years old, screaming and kicking in a tub of water as three sets of hands slowly submerged the boy, who struggled and choked until the kicking stopped. A streak of fear and terror shot through Bobby’s chest as, with his eyes closed now, he saw the laughing soldiers pull the limp, dripping body from the tub. He felt the vise-like arms tighten around his chest and waist as he roared to the ceiling, “God, oh God, oh God!”
And Bobby fell to the floor, shaking and sprawling like an infant, as one of the soldiers, American flag patch on his shoulder, gleaming cross dangling from his neck, whispered with a snarl, “We will not be replaced,” then aimed his Glock at Bobby’s forehead and pulled the trigger.
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