Life in Bits: A Lesbian Christmas Romance

by Harper Bliss

  “Eileen Callahan.”

  Eileen glanced up, getting to her feet. “Yes.”

  The soft brown eyes that met hers were reminiscent of her first love, Melissa. Not surprising considering she was standing in front of Melissa’s younger brother.

  “Follow me, please.” Mack held the door with one hand and gestured with the other for Eileen to enter. “Second room on your right.”

  The door led to an examination room containing a bed with the prerequisite protective sheet of paper down the middle.

  “Take a seat.” Mack motioned to the bed.

  Eileen hesitated before perching on the edge, the paper sheet crinkling under her.

  “How have you been, Mack?” Might as well address the elephant in the room head on.

  “Good.” He smiled, his shoulders relaxing some. “I couldn’t believe it when I read your name. Have you seen Melissa yet? I had dinner with her last week and she didn’t mention you were back in town.”

  “Not yet. I just got back this weekend and with… jet lag, I haven’t reconnected with anyone other than my folks.”

  Mack nodded with the same dubious look Melissa had worn when she’d sensed Eileen wasn’t being entirely truthful, which had always been one of Eileen’s coping mechanisms. When placed in an uncomfortable situation, she would say just enough to seem like she’d explained everything, but never really cracked the surface. Many times, Eileen didn’t even realize she was doing this until it was too late to take it back.

  “I’m surprised you’re back in Derby. Last I heard, you worked for one of the sports teams in Boston,” she said.

  “I missed it too much.” His eyes mellowed, yet another reminder of Melissa’s easy-going demeanor. “It’s funny, growing up, all I thought about was escaping this small town and then when I did… I couldn’t stay away.” He crossed his arms. “You, though, haven’t been back in how long now?”

  “Nearly thirty years, aside from the occasional visit.” She shrugged her left shoulder and immediately regretted calling attention to the right.

  He stood. “Let’s take a look at your arm.” Mack eased the jacket off her shoulders.

  Eileen remained quiet as he extended her arm as far as it would allow, and moved it this way and that.

  After asking several questions about her medical history and getting her to reveal what she’d learned from the London doctors, he said, “We need you to extend it as much as possible. I can give you a device that’ll force it into position. Prevent bent arm. How are you getting along with eating, showering, dressing…?” He mimed et cetera.

  “Okay…” She didn’t want to discuss this part of her life with Mack. Or anyone.

  “Do you have help? Someone staying with you? Julia?”

  Eileen shook her head. “I have an apartment near here.”

  “I see. There are devices that can help you with pulling on socks, fastening a bra, undoing your pants so you can use the toilet…” His voice trailed off, perhaps sensing her unease, or quite possibly the mention of going to the bathroom was even a step too far for him.

  Eileen didn’t speak or make eye contact.

  Mack paused. “Come on, let’s go into the treatment room and get started then.”

  The gym-like facility had a handful of patients with physical therapists. One woman in her thirties rode a stationary bike, presumably warming up for whatever exercises her torturer had in mind. A man in his sixties lay on a table, lifting one leg in the air.

  Mack directed her to a chair. Next to it was a juvenile-sized soccer ball, which he easily palmed with his massive right hand. “I’m going to set this on your legs. Place your right hand on it and then your left hand on top to secure it.” He waited for her to follow his directions. “Good. Roll the ball down to your knees and then back up.”

  Eileen sat perfectly still for several pregnant seconds. “Really?”

  Mack encouraged her with a smile. “It does help. Eventually, the goal is for you to let go with your left hand and only use the weaker one.”

  Eileen started to pull her good arm away, but Mack said, “Not yet. Build up to it.”

  She continued to give him a steely eye, her chin held high.

  “For me, for old times’ sake.” He pressed a palm to his chest. “Please.”

  She rolled the ball away from her lap, feeling silly playing this game. Then back up. Again and again.

  After several minutes, Mack said, “That’s a great start. Now for something different.” He placed a large exercise ball in front of her. “If you could spread your legs wide…” Color speckled his cheeks.

  Eileen ground her jaw, but she complied.

  “If you can’t bend over to maneuver the ball, you can stand at the table and do the exercises there.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, then. Put your weak arm on top. Secure it with your left hand. This exercise involves moving the ball in a few directions. First, forward and back.” With another encouraging smile, he motioned for her to begin. After the fifth repetition, he said, “Now to the left and back to the center. Five times.” Once finished, he instructed her to move it to the right. “Like the other exercise, work up to being able to do it solely with your right hand.”

  They continued with other exercises, almost all of them just as simple.

  “What’s the point of all these?” Eileen asked as she slid a folded towel on top of a table away from her and then back.

  “To get you to the point where you can reach for a glass. If you continue to cradle your arm all the time, your fingers will naturally want to make a fist.” He balled up his fingers. “Conversely, the more you extend the arm, the more the fingers will extend.” Mack stretched out his arm and followed up by unfurling his fingers. He reached for a jar of peanut butter on a shelf immediately to Eileen’s left. “Here’s an exercise you can do at home. All you need is a jar like this.” He held the Skippy aloft. “I recommend a plastic one.” Mack placed the jar on its side in front of Eileen and positioned her right hand on it. “You can tape your hand to it if need be. Roll it back and forth on a table. Attach a straw to it so you can see the progress.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Eileen bristled. “All of these… so-called exercises are ludicrous. Shouldn’t I use a weight machine or something? Kick this into a higher gear?”

  Mack hooked a stool with his left foot and pulled it so he could sit side-by-side with Eileen. Pressing his palms into his thighs, he said, “You had a stroke, Ellie, which is an assault on the brain. Once the swelling went down, you experienced some return of movement to your right arm. But significant damage has been done. In order to acquire more return, we need to train other parts of your brain to take over. Create different pathways for messages to travel from your brain to your arm. You can retrain your brain. However, in order to do so, you have to use a lot of repetition.” He placed his hand on her right shoulder. Massaging it, he said, “These muscles bounce back before the arm, hand, and fingers. That’s why we’re starting with the shoulder and we’ll work down into the hand. Like I said, the goal is for you to be able to reach for a glass.”

  Eileen absorbed his words. “How long?”

  Mack cocked his head. “For the exercises? Several minutes each.”

  “No. How long until I can use… my arm again?”

  “I won’t lie. It takes time and patience to construct new pathways.”

  “Weeks?” She squeaked, closing one eye, peering up at him.

  “I think it would be beneficial to have you work with an occupational therapist as well. To learn ways to overcome your limited arm movement, such as new techniques for getting dressed, taking a shower, and quite possibly driving a car again. An OT can suggest ways to set up your home. Make it safer.”

  “You make it sound like I’ll always be this way. An invalid.” She patted her right arm with her left hand.

  “Let’s not think that way. Individuals make the most progress during the first few months. It’s im
perative for you to exercise every single day. If you do so, you’ll see improvement. Even years later.”

  “Years!”

  “Don’t focus on a specific time frame.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Ellie, like I said earlier, the muscles and nerves in your arm aren’t receiving the essential messages for movement and manipulating objects. With diligent treatment and dedication, the neural linkage between the brain and arm can be repaired. I know you’re eager, but it takes time. There’s no way around it.”

  “I don’t have time!” She sucked in a deep breath. “I need to be back to normal by the end of the year.”

  Mack lowered his eyes. “I wouldn’t set that as your goal.”

  Too late, Eileen thought.

  “I want to shoot straight with you. It’s possible you may never fully recover complete use of your arm. I hope this isn’t the case. I know you—your heart and dedication. If we work together, we can do everything possible to get you back to where you want to be. But you have to realize there’s no magic pill to get you there.” He motioned for her not to speak. “I know. You feel like you don’t have time. Unfortunately, your body is telling you differently. You need to listen.” He dipped his head to peer into her eyes. “Something you aren’t good at, if I remember correctly.”

  Chapter Four

  “I can’t believe she showed up like that,” Kelly said, giving a dismissive shake of the head.

  “At least I got my key back. That’s something.” Naomi sipped from her cappuccino. The quality of the coffee had gradually improved since she’d started working at the hospital, first as a volunteer and since last year as a full-time social worker.

  “Yeah right.” Kelly pushed her cup away. According to her, the beverages at the hospital coffee shop were only getting worse with the years.

  “Derby’s a small town. It’s important to me that Jane and I can remain friends.” She cleared her throat. “We’re likely to run into each other all the time and I would prefer it if we could be civil to each other.”

  “God, you’re such a lez, Nomes.” Kelly grinned at her. “Best friends with your ex, who cheated on you. Where will it end? Braiding each other’s hair in the old people’s home?”

  Naomi chuckled. “Who knows? And I wouldn’t say best friends. I already have a best friend.” She shot Kelly a wink. “Jane and I will probably be more like acquaintances, I guess. But I did promise I’d go to her photo exhibition on Friday.”

  Kelly shook her head—again. “You’re too good for this world. If it were me…”

  “I know,” Naomi cut her off. “You’d never give her the time of day again.”

  “I’m just angry with her because she hurt you. You’re my best friend and I want you to be happy. If Frank cheated on me, you’d be equally angry with him.”

  “I’d give him a very stern talking-to. You can be sure of that.” Naomi cradled the coffee cup in her hands. “But it’s not the same with Jane and me. We weren’t made for each other like you and Frank. Now that a few weeks have passed, I feel more relieved than hurt. Like it was this very clear instance of life telling me something I was perhaps too blind to see. And it’s actually working out for me instead of causing me a huge bout of heartache.”

  “I guess I should be glad you see it that way then.”

  Naomi sat facing the door and, absently, kept an eye on who left and entered. The hospital coffee shop was busy, with quite the line forming at the counter. She checked her watch. She had ten more minutes before she had to get back to work.

  “I’ll be just fine, Kel. Now about Thanksgi—” Derby Hospital was full of people Naomi had never encountered before, but the stranger entering the coffee shop just as Naomi looked up, stood out for some reason.

  She was tall and lanky with wild, reddish blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Maybe Naomi noticed her because she looked out of place, as though she wasn’t from Derby, or at least had never been to Derby Hospital before.

  The woman’s right arm was cradled against her chest, her brow set in furrowed determination.

  “Earth to Naomi?” Kelly was waving her hand in front of Naomi’s face. “You were saying?”

  Naomi followed the woman with her gaze. She witnessed how the woman joined the line at the counter.

  “About Thanksgiving.” Naomi forced herself to look away and refocus on the conversation with Kelly. “We should…” The clatter of something falling to the floor pulled Naomi’s attention away from Kelly again.

  The red-haired woman had dropped some coins. Before she knew it, Naomi was out of her seat, collecting them from the floor.

  “Here you go.” She handed the fallen coins to the woman.

  “For heaven’s sake,” the woman bristled. “I could have picked those up myself. I may look like an invalid, but I’m—”

  Their eyes met—the woman’s were a hue of bright green Naomi didn’t think she’d ever come across before—and she stopped talking, holding Naomi’s gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” the green-eyed woman said, her gaze softening. “Thank you for your help.”

  Naomi, used to working with people who were trying to come to grips with the new physical reality of their lives, offered a wide smile. “Don’t mention it.” She glanced at the woman’s incapacitated arm and shoulder.

  The woman turned away from her, as though wanting to hide her injured body part. “Have a nice day.” She returned to the counter, the line having now shortened considerably.

  When Naomi rejoined Kelly, her friend was on the phone. Naomi took the opportunity to sneak a peek over her shoulder. The woman was now ordering at the counter.

  When she finished her call, Kelly got up. “Sorry to cut our riveting Thanksgiving celebrations meeting short, but duty calls. Megan claims to have found a discrepancy in the hospital budget I’ve only verified a million times.” She rolled her eyes. “See you later.”

  “Tell Megan she has a hundred percent track record of being wrong when it comes to questioning your calculations,” Naomi said.

  “Will do.” Kelly shot her a quick smile and bounded out of the coffee shop.

  Naomi glanced behind her again and noticed the woman she’d just helped looking around for a table. She scooted out of her chair and waved at her. “There’s room here.”

  The woman eyed Naomi’s table as if it was the least appealing spot for her to sit, but then seemed to cave, her gaze softening again.

  “Thanks. Again.” She sat down and deposited her cup on the table.

  “My pleasure. I’m Naomi.” Naomi thought better of holding out an outstretched hand, foreseeing annoyance when the other woman wouldn’t be able to hold out her own.

  “Eileen Makenna. I hope I didn’t chase away your friend.” Eileen shuffled in her seat and shrugged her coat off her shoulders. “You’d think half of Derby is sick with how busy it is in here.” She gave a half-smile, then turned away slightly, as if wanting to mask her weak shoulder and arm.

  Naomi decided not to bring up Eileen’s arm, nor ask her what brought her to the Derby Hospital coffee shop.

  “It’s that time of the year, I guess,” Naomi said, instead.

  “God yes, I’d forgotten how cold it can be around these parts.”

  “So, you’re from around here?” Naomi asked.

  “Used to be. I’ve been gone a long time, though. I guess you could say I’m home for the holidays.” The smile she tried on next didn’t radiate a lot of holiday cheer. “How about you?”

  “I work in this hospital. I’m a social worker and I volunteer at the children’s cancer ward a few times a week.”

  “Wow.” Eileen pursed her lips together for a brief moment. “You’re unlike most people then, who prefer to turn away from the darker sides of life.”

  “If you put it like that.” Naomi didn’t see it like that at all, but this wasn’t a discussion to have with a stranger who had ended up at her table by sheer coincidence. “What do you do when you’re not home fo
r the holidays?”

  “I’m a photographer,” Eileen said matter-of-factly.

  Naomi inadvertently snorted.

  “Why is that so funny?” Eileen glanced at her with raised eyebrows.

  “No, I’m sorry. It’s just...” She didn’t think she should mention Jane to this woman she’d just met. Besides, Jane might be exhibiting some of her photos at a local gallery on Friday, but being a photographer was hardly her profession. “Someone I know is having her first photo exhibition this Friday.”

  “Really?” Eileen drank from her coffee again. Naomi’s cup was long empty. “This town may end up surprising me yet. Where is it? I’m always keen to spot some local talent.”

  “On Main Street, next to the tavern.” This time Naomi couldn’t stop herself from saying more than she perhaps ought to. “And I wouldn’t be so sure of spotting any talent.”

  “Now I’m doubly intrigued.” Eileen slanted her torso over the table a little, adopting a conspiratorial posture. “Tell me more. I’ve been away a long time. I need to be caught up on all the gossip and it seems to me I’ve landed at the right table with the right person.” For the first time, her smile reached all the way to her eyes.

  Naomi mirrored Eileen’s smile, but waved off her comment. “I’ve said too much already. Just a cowardly quip about my ex, who happens to be the photographer in question.” Naomi thought of all the hours she’d posed for Jane as she studied light and composition, deeming herself the one and only rightful heir to Annie Leibovitz.

  “What’s your ex’s name? Will I have heard of him?”

  “Her.” Naomi locked her gaze on Eileen’s. “And no, that’s highly unlikely.” She couldn’t drag her gaze away from Eileen’s. God, those strange green eyes. “Her name’s Jane Rodman.”

  Eileen nodded. “Well, Naomi, it looks like I might see you at Jane Rodman’s photo exhibition on Friday then.” She flashed Naomi another smile, which, just like the light that only a few seconds ago had appeared in her eyes, dimmed brusquely.