“You look like the cat who just ate the canary. Seriously, what’s up?”
“I was just… it feels good to be with you again,” Brutus said, still smiling faintly. “How was your Thursday?”
“Typical Sergeant’s Time,” Linda replied, leaning back in the passenger seat. “Sergeant Lincoln had the platoon working on first aid and evacuation. A refresher course really, everyone in the platoon’s already a combat lifesaver.”
“So you can patch yourself up?” Brutus asked, and Linda nodded. “How much?”
“Just basic first aid, enough to patch ourselves up until the medics arrive," Linda said. "The only thing really specialized is dealing with lung punctures.”
“Sucking chest wound?” Brutus asked, and Linda nodded. “What’s that?”
“A lung puncture... it's nasty. You can't breathe. Hopefully, with the body armor we're issued, that won't happen.”
Brutus’s smiled dimmed, and he shivered at the thought. “Grisly.”
“We even practice IV drips on each other,” Linda said with a chuckle. “One time, there was a mix-up, and someone got a glucose drip instead of saline. He was bouncing off the walls!”
Brutus laughed. “That didn’t cause diabetic shock or anything?”
“Nope, medic monitored him, showed us how. If there’d been any risk at all we’d have pulled the line. So where are we going anyway? This is just a regular neighborhood in town.”
That was an understatement. They’d been driving past house after house, plainly designed suburban houses that didn’t look at all remarkable except in their overwhelming plainness.
Brutus knew it, but got even more excited though as made one more turn. “It is… and here we are.”
He pulled up to a stop in front of a house, shutting off the engine. It was another cookie cutter house, with tan vinyl siding and white trim that reminded Brutus slightly of a gingerbread house, a slightly upward slope to the driveway to what looked like a single car garage that was next to what looked like a small cupola type construction, and solar panels on the roof.
“Welcome to my new training camp headquarters.” Brutus looked at Linda with a hint of nervousness. “Like a boxer leaving the house to go somewhere where he can focus on nothing but prep for an upcoming fight, I’m renting this place for the next six weeks until training camp starts.”
“You-”
“I know it’s smaller than my place, and I’ll have to do all my own housekeeping, but that’s okay,” Brutus said, eager to get Linda on board with his quickly put together plan.
He was jumping into the deep end with both feet, but in his gut it felt right.
“Really all I have to do all day is train, do some studying for the online courses I’m taking, and rest. I figure I can spend an hour a day doing housework.”
“But… when boxers do that, they’re isolating themselves, right?” Linda asked. “What about this? I mean, your home-”
“Come on, let me show you.” Brutus held out a hand. “Trust me, it’ll be okay.”
Linda nodded, biting her lip as she gave his hand a squeeze. Getting out, he went around to her side of the truck, opening the door for her. He was a little nervous, he wanted her to approve of this surprise so badly.
“Let’s start in the garage.” He hit the button on the opener in his pocket.
The door trundled open quietly, revealing a plain concrete floor, a washer and dryer, and two exercise machines, a rower and an exercise bike.
“As you can see, my morning cardio is well taken care of. I even moved my cardio equipment from the house, and I've arranged to use the heavy bag at a local gym.”
“I see.” Linda looked around. “What else?”
“Well, as you can see I’ve got a washer and dryer, although if the weather’s nice there’s an old fashioned clothes line out in the back yard that I think I’ll use,” Brutus said. “Most of what I packed is old team gear, and they’ll replace all that for me as soon as training camp starts. So if some old shorts or t-shirts get a little sun faded, who cares? I like the smell of line dried clothes more anyway.”
The kitchen was small, and Brutus suspected that the house would normally be labeled as a ‘starter’ home by most real estate services. There was enough room for a small three or four person dining table, but really that was about it in the cupola, and the stove had a quirky three burner design. The fridge was shorter than Linda, and as she ran her hand over the door, he knew what she was thinking.
The place was tiny.
“I wouldn’t expect you to whip up three star meals with this, but it looks like you’ve got the basics.” Linda looked around. She looked through the pass-through to the living room, nodding in approval. “Nice recliner though.”
