by Dale Mayer
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” he said, “I don’t see any progress. I don’t see anybody dancing around the hallways. I don’t see what was for somebody who’s now doing much better.” The words had just burst free of his chest.
She stared at him in surprise, then nodded ever-so-slightly. “That’s a really interesting point,” she said. “Of course I see the progress in many people, but then I saw them when they initially got here. I’ve also said goodbye to an awful lot of people who have been here and have improved to the point that they have gone on to completely normal lives. But, of course, you, as a patient, only see the other patients as they are today.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Though you talk about all these people who have improved so much, I don’t see them. They aren’t here for me to see that kind of change. I don’t have any friends here. I don’t have anybody who was in terrible shape before and now is looking so much better. So, for me, it’s just all these nebulous possibilities that you guys keep talking about. And honestly? I don’t know if I sincerely believe it, or if you’re just plain lying.”
“Do people lie to you much?”
“People lie all the time,” he said flatly.
“Doctors?”
He nodded. “Absolutely doctors. Sure, they need to do one more surgery. They need to do this. They need to do that, and yes, of course, it all went well. But the funny thing is, I still can’t do very much at the end of the day.”
“Which is why there are no more surgeries, I presume?”
“Actually, the doctor said he’d done the best he could at this point.”
“Good,” she said. “Now you can walk away from that stage of your life and move right into this one.”
“Which is why this is the one that I see,” he said. “I don’t have a clue about what comes after this.”
“And that brings us right around to the same conversation,” she nodded. “And, if I were to introduce you to some guys who have shown remarkable progress here, would you believe them? Or would you think that we lied to you again?”
“But I wouldn’t have been the one to see them when they arrived,” he said flatly. “So any change is change that other people say has happened and not what I’ve seen for myself.”
“You have a black-and-white viewpoint, where you need to see everything for yourself, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “At this point in time anyway. People are always talking about how much better everything will get, but I haven’t seen it at any stage of the game. So now it’s really hard for me to believe anybody.”
“Why did you come to Hathaway House?”
He stared at her for a long moment until she nudged him again.
“I presume that you wanted to come. The fact that you’re here should mean that you applied and went through the effort to come here because it was your choice.”
“I came because of my sister,” he said.
“Ouch,” she said. “There’s a huge waiting list for all the beds here, so please don’t tell the other patients that.”
He looked at her for a long moment and said, “Maybe somebody else should have my bed,” he said, “because I sure don’t know if I’m the right guy to be here.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve been through a lot in the name of progress and haven’t seen any happening. So it’s hard for me to imagine it’s even possible. So I probably should just go back to the same VA place I was at before and let somebody else make good use of being here. I don’t think I’m the right person at all.” And, with that, he spun his wheelchair and headed out of the room.
Chapter 6
Just enough of an insider grapevine existed in a place like this that Ilse had heard about the bit of a disruption in Keith’s world once he’d had the psych visit. But then she could understand why he wouldn’t want anybody questioning what he said or saw or thought or felt. She just happened to be walking down the hallway to Dani’s office, when she heard the sound of a wheelchair moving rapidly behind her. As she pivoted, she saw Keith turn into his room and slam the door behind him. Hard. She winced at that.
As she got to Dani’s office, she was happy to find her in and not in a meeting.
Dani motioned to the chair across the desk, as she was on the phone. She quickly finished the call. “Problems?”
“Nope,” Ilse said. “Just bringing up the budget and supply invoices for the last month.” She handed them to Dani, who took a quick look.
“You always seem to be on target.”
“That’s the job,” she said with a laugh. “You wouldn’t like it if I came in saying I needed an extra fifteen hundred dollars this month.”
“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me,” Dani said. “It seems like everybody needs an extra fifteen hundred dollars right now.”
“Right,” she said with a nod. “That was a pretty hard door slam a few moments ago too,” she said. “It was Keith, but I have no idea what’s wrong.”
Dani clicked her mouse, frowned at her monitor, and said, “Well, I have a pretty good idea,” she said, “but I may go talk to him later, or maybe I’ll just let him work his way through it.”
“I guess a lot of that happens here, doesn’t it? Just working their way through it, I mean.”
“There is,” Dani said, her tone serious. “These guys have issues that we can’t even imagine. And yet they still manage to keep fighting the good fight. Even when I feel like I might have given up a long time ago.”
“I was thinking that earlier today,” Ilse said with a small smile. “I’m not sure I’d have the strength and the endurance to do what these guys are doing every day.”
“I know,” she said. “I watched my father for a long time. He’d get depressed and morose, angry—so angry at what life had done to him,” she said. “It made growing up pretty rough over those last few years as he tried to heal. Once we started this center, and he had a purpose, something to work toward, it made a huge difference for him. But it really was seeing something beyond the immediate future that made a difference in his world.”
“I can see that,” Ilse said. “A lot of the current philosophy says forget about tomorrow, forget about yesterday, and just focus on today. But then, if today looks pretty bad, and you can’t see that there’ll be a tomorrow that’s any better, it just makes for a really rough today.”
“It usually takes a few weeks here,” Dani said. “In some cases, as long as six weeks for the guys to realize that progress is really happening and that there really is hope for something beyond this. They come from these centers and hospitals, circumstances that are often less than ideal, or, at the very least, they’ve been allowed to wallow in the collective misery, so their mental attitude is way less than ideal. And it’s not just a physical shift but a mental and an emotional shift here. They have to let go of all that stuff, and it’s hard, really hard. A lot of them cling to it out of fear. Others cling to it like it’s protecting them because it’s what they know and is like a safeguard for when it just doesn’t get any easier.”
Ilse stood and said, “It’s hard when somebody really hits you in the heart, and you see his struggles, and his daily strength amazes you.”
“Keith again?”
Ilse nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I’ve never had a patient here affect me like this.”
“It may not ever happen again,” Dani said. “You see it on a professional relationship level, as if something about him as a patient is really amazing to you,” she said. “But it looks to me like you are seeing the man inside. That’s why nobody else has affected you before, and nobody is likely to affect you in the future because something special is happening between the two of you. It’s the same relationship elements as any male and female the world over experience.”
Ilse looked at her in surprise. “It’s hardly a place for personal relationships though,” she said slowly.
But Dani was having none of that.
“This place has been very much the place of personal relationships,” she said with a boisterous laugh. “I mean, Aaron and I started it,” she said, “but easily another maybe half a dozen to a dozen relationships have evolved ever since. I never expected to be a matchmaking service here, but we’ve certainly seen many happy couples.”
“I wonder if Robin has introduced Iain to Keith at all,” Ilse said suddenly. “Maybe if Keith saw how Iain is now, it would give Keith some hope that maybe he could improve too.”
“I suspect he’s one of those guys who wouldn’t believe the change because he didn’t see Iain before.”
Ilse winced. “You could be right,” she said. She walked to the doorway. “You got all your paperwork, and I’m good now, right?”
Dani quickly flipped through the pages. “You’re good.”
“Perfect,” she said. “I’m off to make sure dinner is on time.”
“Good luck with that,” Dani said. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. I have enough trouble cooking for myself, without trying to cook for hundreds, like you are.”
“It’s what we do,” Ilse said with a laugh, waved goodbye, and headed down the hallway.
As she walked past Keith’s room, she froze for a moment, and wondered. Unable to help herself, she reached out and knocked on his door. But instead of a cheery “Hello” or a “Come in,” it was a stern “Go away.”
At that, she frowned and said, “That’s not a very nice thing to say, you know?” She hesitated, remaining outside the door.
After a dead silence for a moment, he spoke, a grudging, “Come in.”
Knowing she was confronting the bear in his cave, she pushed open the door but stayed outside the doorway. “Obviously you’ve had a rough afternoon,” she said gently.
He just glared at her.
“I’m not pitying you,” she said, raising both hands. “That would be the last thing I’d do. I just wondered if maybe a cup of coffee and a piece of pie or something would make you feel the tiniest bit better.”
He stared at her in astonishment, and a glimmer of humor appeared in his eyes, until he was suddenly chuckling. “Is that your solution to everything?” he teased.
“Hey, it works in my world,” she said, relieved to see his dark mood lifting.
“You’re right,” he said. “Coffee and pie would be absolutely perfect.” He looked around at the bed that he’d finally managed to get himself back into. “The trouble is, I don’t think I can go out there again. Not right now.”
“Don’t have to,” she said. “I’ve still got a few minutes. I’ll go grab you a piece.” She started to leave, then stopped and turned back. “Do you want ice cream on the pie?”
“Is the pope Catholic?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Responding with a giant eye roll, she said, “I presume that means yes.” She quickly walked down the hallway, but now she was the one wearing a big grin. Maybe she couldn’t do a whole lot for him, but just the fact that she’d gotten a smile out of him was a huge turning point.
Back in her kitchen, she cut a piece of apple pie, put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it, then added a couple blackberries on the top. Pouring a cup of coffee, she disappeared again, ignoring the grins of everyone around her. She didn’t care what they thought or that they would gossip about it after she left because, if this simple act would make one person in this place feel better, then she was all for it. The whole thing had given her a new appreciation of the food that she put out for these people. She saw with fresh eyes just how much it could mean to them to know something like an apple pie awaited them at the end of a particularly rough day.
As she approached his room, she realized the door was still open. She had left it open, knowing she was coming right back. As she stepped through, she said, “I’m sorry about leaving your door open.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “This way I don’t have to growl at you again to open it.”
She burst out laughing as she walked over and placed the treats on the table, then moved the table across the bed. “That’s a good point,” she said. “I’ve got older brothers, so you don’t scare me.”
He looked at her with interest. “Are they as small as you?”
She chuckled. “No, they sure aren’t. They’re big. Both of them are six foot tall, and they used to call me Pint Pot all of my growing up years. It was totally embarrassing.” Yet she smiled at the memory. “But, as older brothers do, they also protected me, looked after me, and completely spoiled me.”
“Sounds like you have a good relationship with them.” He looked at the pie, plucked a blackberry off the top, and took a bite. “What is it about something like this treat midafternoon on a bad day that just brightens everything up?”
“Because food is the nectar of the gods,” she announced. “I learned how to soothe the most savage of beasts of my brothers with food, so I highly doubt anybody here in this place is any worse.”
He chuckled and used his fork to break off a piece of the apple pie with some ice cream and put it in his mouth. He put the fork down and melted against the sheets. “I was in such a bad mood before,” he said, “and, seriously, your little bit of kindness has gone a long way to making my day better.” He lifted the coffee cup. “Cheers.”
She smiled, walked back out, and, as she turned by the door, said, “Well, let’s hope the rest of your day is better.” Inside, she was thrilled, and her own heart was considerably warmer too because she felt happiness when doing something nice for somebody else—but to also know it was appreciated meant so much.
There really was a special connection between the two of them, even though she’d been determined to keep it more formal, but it was well past that now. She really liked him. The fact that he wasn’t capable of doing anything more than lying in the bed and just talking to her also kept it in perspective. She didn’t want to do anything to distract or to disturb him, but she really wanted to do everything she could to help him heal, and maybe then there’d be something between them at the end of the day, and they could explore it a little more too.
The apple pie had been absolutely divine. Keith didn’t know if she made it or if one of her sous chefs had, but, wow, the filling had been thick and rich. The pastry was fluffy and flaky. And, by the time his plate was empty, he was wishing he’d asked her for more. It was hardly fair to ask for seconds, but, at the same time, he just couldn’t resist having this treat. He didn’t think he had much of a sweet tooth, but she was proving him wrong. And, of course, the coffee was always good.
He sank back against the bed, wondering at his mercurial moods these days. Before it had never been a problem because he’d always just been depressed. He hated to even say it because saying that he’d been depressed would just make things worse. No way he was depressed, but it just made him feel better to avoid that label, and that was difficult too. Critical moods meant that his moods were shifting.
Before he had been filled with a total apathy, a sense of weightiness maybe, and an acceptance that nothing would change. But now, instead of always feeling that same dark moodiness, he found these pockets of bright laughter that he didn’t even know what to do with.
He stared down at his hands, wondering, when a knock came at his open door. He looked up to see his sister. She had a big grin on her face and something in her arms that he couldn’t even believe. “What the heck is that?” he exclaimed.
She laughed and walked to his bedside. “I don’t want to put him on top of you if he’s too heavy.”
He shifted in the bed as she laid down the largest rabbit he’d ever seen in his life. Immediately the rabbit hopped forward, its big nose, monstrous eyes, and huge ears heading toward Keith’s face, looking to sniff him closer. He reached out a gentle hand, letting the rabbit sniff it; then he gently tugged on one of its long silky ears.
“This is Hoppers,” Robin said in a bright tone.
He looked up at her, down at the rabbit, and asked, “Why?”
“Wh
y what?” she said, laughing.
“Why would somebody give this rabbit nuclear steroids so he looks like this?” he said in disbelief. “It’s as big as I am.”
“Not quite,” she said.
At that moment, Hoppers stretched right out, as if really enjoying Keith’s bed. Dropping his head down beside Keith’s waist, Hoppers snuggled in.
“Good Lord,” he said in astonishment, but he couldn’t stop touching him. “He’s beautiful. And is he always this calm?”
“Always,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “He’s a semipermanent resident.”
“How does somebody become a semipermanent resident?” he asked, frowning at her.
“He didn’t used to be here, but he’s so big that he requires a certain amount of care, and we haven’t found the right adoptive home, so we’ve built a run for him. Or rather, Iain did.”
“Ah, the mythical Iain,” Keith said. “I have yet to meet this guy. You know that, right?”
“I’d love for you to meet him,” she said warmly. “He was in the same position as you were not that many months ago. I forget how far he has come.”
“He probably wasn’t quite so bad though,” he said.
“He was bad, Keith,” she said.
Something in her tone made him look up and study her face. “How bad?”
“Different than you but ugly bad,” she said. “I did wonder, for a long time, if I could handle a relationship like that,” she said. “I didn’t feel very good about having those questions go through my mind, but the good news is that Iain is in wonderful shape now. He’s recovered beautifully, and—even if, down the road, he has a setback and ends up in a wheelchair again—I already know that I can handle it. Those thoughts came in fleeting moments of doubting myself, wondering if I was capable, if I was a big enough person to do this. I can tell you that I’m just so happy to have found him.”
And, indeed, she was positively glowing. He’d never seen his sister like that. “He appears to have had a pretty strong effect on you,” he said in surprise. “I’ve never seen you look so happy.”