by Dale Mayer
“It’s possible. And what about Lance?”
“Lance got shrapnel damage too I believe, but most of his injuries are structural, more so than external. He took several hits, clipped a lip off one of the vertebrae, took off the top head of his hip bone, and his ribs are just a mess.”
“But he’s in a VA hospital?”
Iain nodded. “One of his ankles was smashed, and he can walk, but badly.”
“Sounds like maybe Shane or somebody else here could do a lot for him as well.”
“I haven’t even told him how I’m doing,” he said.
“And that, I think, is because you thought this new beginning, this stage of life, was what you would have to live with,” she said. “So, you didn’t see that you had anything to tell them.”
“But I was wrong,” he said slowly. “As much as I hate to admit it, Shane’s work and knowledge of his field is amazing—and, no, I’m not really seeing any change yet—but, if it doesn’t happen, it won’t be from Shane’s lack of effort. And maybe that’s why I’m holding back because I’m not seeing the progress yet.”
“And how much are you holding yourself back?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his forearms on the edge of the pool to hold him up, his tone sharp. “I’d never do something like that.”
Chapter 8
Hearing the harshness in his tone, Robin realized she was on delicate ground. “Sometimes I think that we don’t always know how much we’re holding ourselves back,” she said slowly, swimming toward the pool ladder in the shallow end with the steps. He splashed beside her. He was willing to be mollified, but, at the same time, she could sense that he didn’t really want to broach this. “Remember some of the heavy conversations we’ve had?”
“Sure,” he said. “Sometimes they stick in my brain and just won’t get out.”
“Right. So, if your body is unyielding, maybe look for a place in your mind where your mind is unyielding.”
His eyebrows shot up.
She shrugged. “I know I’ve had to do the same for myself,” she said. “At one point in time, I wanted to be a vet. But I didn’t want to be a vet just to be a vet. I wanted to be a vet because I felt that other people would then respect me more.”
“How does that have anything to do with it?”
“Because I’d be someone,” she said quietly. “But I had to realize that I had to be somebody inside before I could be somebody outside, at least according to somebody else.”
He blinked. And then he nodded slowly. “I see what you’re trying to say,” he said, “but that’s hardly my case.”
“No, and it doesn’t really seem to fit what I was trying to say either,” she said. “I guess it’s more a case of understanding who we are inside and realizing that what we believe about ourselves and what we believe about our progress and our own mental state affects who and what we are on the outside.”
“I’ve said that a time or two myself,” he agreed, his good mood apparently restored.
Yet somewhere along the line he hadn’t got the message. She didn’t really want to try again because it was just nice and friendly to be on the same page, but she could sense that something inside needed to be pried out for him to take a closer look at. “Well, I’m sure Shane has a lot to say about it too.”
Iain nodded. “But, like I said, sometimes his instructions are a little convoluted.”
“You mean, a little obscure?” she said with a bright smile. “Like you have to dig deep to understand what he’s saying?”
Again, that sharp look came her way, and he nodded. “Something like that, yeah.” He took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ll get changed and then grab some food. I’m quite tired again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “Was this swimming too much?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think it was an accumulation of things over the long week.”
As she watched from the pool, he made his way awkwardly to the wheelchair before he sat down with relief. “Do you want to meet at lunch?” she asked. When he hesitated, she felt her heart wrench slightly. And then she backed up immediately and said, “Actually, no, I might have a nap myself.”
“Good idea,” he said a little jovially, almost too happily. “I’ll have a shower, and then I’ll see. We have a two-hour window for eating.”
“Have a good rest,” she called out. And she made her way slowly to the steps in the shallow end, as she watched him leave. Leaving the pool with a heavy sigh, she grabbed her towel and sat down in the sun, despondent all of a sudden.
She shouldn’t have brought it up. It was for Shane to do. Or the psychologist. Or another specialist she didn’t know about. But she definitely felt a sense of Iain being locked on the inside, whether he knew it or not. And that lock had to open up and free him ever-so-slightly in order for him to see the progress that he sought.
Groaning, she realized she wasn’t likely to see very much of him at all this weekend now. Somehow she’d just changed everything between them. And not in a good way. She grabbed her towel and quickly dried her hair, then wiped down her body and headed back to her apartment. She didn’t even want to go in for lunch now.
Instead, she considered getting away-away, taking a drive into town, picking up a few things that she needed, maybe having lunch at a restaurant in town too. Just taking a complete break from here. A change of location was supposed to be good for the health of the body and the mind. And it would stop her from looking around every corner to see if Iain was there. Now that he hadn’t even mentioned lunch, she knew that was a dead deal too.
At her place, she quickly dressed into casual clothing to head into town, then grabbed her purse and hopped into her vehicle and took the long drive out of the property. She needed a real break. Especially today.
Instead of getting dressed and heading down for food, he collapsed onto his bed, a little more worn out than he expected. Not from being physically tired. His mood was the flattest of all. Her words had struck a chord, as if she knew something he didn’t, as if she’d heard something he hadn’t, and as if she was trying to get him to see something he needed to see that other people saw, but he couldn’t.
And, if one thing was guaranteed to piss him off, others talking behind his back would do it.
Or to think that other people knew something that he should know, but they were leaving it for him to figure out. One of his old girlfriends had been like that. His buddies had all known that she was having an affair, and they’d waited for him to figure it out. Nobody, not one of them, had nudged him in that direction to say, Hey, take a closer look at what’s going on here.
He’d been so angry at the end of that relationship that he’d lost his friends at the same time. No, he hadn’t really lost them. He’d walked away from them and realized they weren’t exactly what he wanted in a friend. He knew it was the bro thing to do with some guys. To either tell all or tell nothing. And all of his bros—apparently—had been of the tell nothing variety. This just brought all that back up again too. And it sucked. Who needed that crap?
Now that he was collapsed on his bed, he had a two-hour window before he needed to get food. Otherwise he would have to wait again. And he hadn’t had breakfast either. He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax and to drop off for a short nap. Yet, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Robin.
He should text her and see if she was willing to meet him for lunch after all. Or not. Maybe it would be better to figure out her words first. Sometimes one had to go it alone, and just no other way would make it happen. And then he remembered Bruce and how long it had been since he’d contacted Iain. Or Iain had contacted him. So Iain quickly grabbed his phone and sent his buddy a text, checking in to see how he was.
Bruce answered almost right away. Hey, we extended our stay once again, so we just got back two days ago. How are you?
Good, Iain typed with a smile as he responded. Working hard. How was your trip? Successful?
That’s great. And yeah we’re giving us a second chance. Had like another honeymoon after we talked things out. And you? Making progress?
That was great news on Bruce’s relationship. Yet Bruce had asked that same question that Iain hated so much, and he didn’t even know what to say. He tossed down his phone, punched his pillow, and closed his eyes. He willed sleep to take him under so he didn’t have to answer. And, when his cell buzzed again, he bet it would be Bruce again. Iain ignored it. At least for the moment, he needed to just be alone and to figure this out for himself.
Chapter 9
Robin kept glancing at the purchases she’d made a couple days ago. She was getting ready for work, but her gaze kept falling on the bag with the two journals in it. She didn’t know why, but something about them had caught her eye. She’s been in the dollar store, amazed that items of such quality were at such a cheap price. It had been almost like fate calling to her. She wanted something like this for herself to work through some of her own issues, realizing that it had been a long time since she’d had a relationship. Also noting that she was still, although she didn’t mean to, looking at every man and judging him. Until Iain.
After meeting him, talking to him, she found that things in her life had focused in on this time, on this person, and she realized that she needed to be the best that she could be too. And that was likely way too New Age–sounding for anyone. She groaned and finished brushing her hair, braiding it up nicely and then walked over to pull both journals out of the bag. They were nice and simple, almost masculine looking, but had enough of a feminine touch to make her smile. She left one on the table and reached for the matching fountain pens that she had bought too.
“This is way too quirky,” she muttered. “His and hers, when there isn’t even a him and a her yet is a little bit pushy.”
But she tucked the journal into her scrubs pocket, grabbed a fountain pen, and stuffed it into her other pocket. Then she headed into work. Sometimes, in life, one had to take a chance. She may have already pushed it too far with Iain that last time they were together in the pool, but she realized that was just part and parcel of this journey. If he wasn’t for her, then fine. If she wasn’t for him, well, maybe not so fine. But still, it’s something that she would live with. At least she hoped she could.
She worked through her morning, kept busy with a steady stream of clients and animals, from clipping toenails to changing the tomcat’s way, to stitching up another cat that had gotten into a scrap, and then a dog with a boil to be lanced. By the time she was done, she called out to Stan and said, “I’m heading to lunch.”
“I’ll leave here in another ten minutes or so,” he said, distracted. “I’ve got a bunch of paperwork I need to finish up.”
“That’s because you’re the boss,” she said, laughing.
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned.
Still smiling, she headed upstairs to the cafeteria area. She had both the journal and the pen in her pockets still. And she was still of two minds as to whether she should give it to Iain or not. She didn’t want to push him or to make him feel uncomfortable, and she was likely to do both.
In the cafeteria, she took a long look around. So many people were here that it was hard to see if Iain was around or not. She walked over, got into line, and, when she got up to Dennis, she asked him, “Have you seen Iain yet?”
He was busy serving people ahead of her, but he glanced back, frowned, then shook his head. “You know what? I don’t think I have.” She nodded and grabbed a large salad, but he shook his head and handed her a plate with a rack of ribs.
She nodded with joy. “I’ll never say no to your ribs.”
“You better not,” he said. “You’ll make me overhaul all my recipes again.”
At that, she laughed joyously. “You have the best recipes.”
“Me and Grandma,” he said with a nod. “We’re forever trying to outdo each other.”
“Keep it up,” somebody said behind her. “Because we’re the ones getting the benefit of it.”
Dennis’s big grin flashed. “Yeah, that’s why I do it.”
Robin moved down and grabbed a cup of coffee and a glass of water and then sat outside in the shade. She’d been craving this heat, and now it was too hot for her. She sat in her corner up against the wall and ate quietly, loving the food, especially the ribs. When she was done, she sat back and sipped her water, looking at her cold coffee. “I should remember to not get the coffee at the same time,” she muttered.
Dennis had been working his way through the tables, cleaning up dishes, when he heard her and said, “I’ll get you a fresh cup.”
“You don’t have to serve me,” she said, pushing her chair back to stand up.
“But if I don’t serve you,” he said with a smile, “I’ll be serving somebody else. And there’s nothing wrong with serving you, so let me do this.”
She frowned at him. “Don’t you have help to clear all this?”
His grin widened. “But it’s not about having help,” he said. “I enjoy this. I enjoy having the time and the opportunity to talk to everybody. Collecting a few dishes won’t hurt me. Not only that but it also keeps me humble.” And, with that, he took off.
She sat back down, wondering, because he did have a great attitude to life, and they could all learn something about that from him. When he returned with a fresh cup of coffee, she murmured, “Thanks.”
He looked at her quizzically. “Something on your mind?”
“Just contemplating the convoluted way that we look at life.”
“Ah,” he said. “Those kinds of questions.”
“Do you ever get hung up on them?”
“I try not to,” he said. “Hung up is not an easy way to live. You’ve got to keep things flowing. Otherwise you’re stuck, and you can’t move forward. And we’re never stuck for the reason we think we are.”
“I’ve heard that phrase used regarding anger,” she said. “Like we’re never angry for the reason we think we are, but I’ve never really understood that. I guess what you’re really saying is, we have to dig deeper to find the true reasons for our actions.”
He grinned and nodded. “Something like that.” Then he took off again.
She sat here, wondering what her reasons were for buying the journals. She really just wanted to give Iain an outlet that, if he didn’t want to talk to her, and he didn’t want to talk to his psychologist, Iain could hopefully work out his own problems himself. And, with that, she stood, her coffee cup in her hand, and headed toward his room. When she knocked on the door, she got no answer. But the door itself didn’t appear to be quite latched because it pushed open ever-so-slightly. She pushed it open a little bit wider and called out, “Iain, are you there?”
Still no answer. She poked her head around the door, but his bed was empty. She walked in, placed the journal and the pen on his bed, and then walked back out again. He wouldn’t necessarily know it was from her, but she could always send him a message later. On that thought, she frowned, walked back over, picked up the pen, and on the first page wrote a simple note, saying, This might help you work your way through things. And walked out. She hated to admit it, but, as she left, her footsteps increased in speed so that she was almost running. No almost to it. She was running away.
When he got back from his session with Shane, he found a little leather-bound book and a pen on his bed. He looked at it as he slowly stripped off his hot and sweaty clothing. He wanted a shower and then to head out for some food. It had been a rough morning and an even rougher weekend. He couldn’t help but feel like he was pushing Robin away, and that made no sense to him because he really wanted to be friends with her and potentially see if they had more than that between them.
Of all the women he’d met in his life, she was the only one who had shown any interest in who he was now. And that meant everything to him. To create a relationship in a place like this meant seeing each other with all the ugly bits and pieces showing. And al
so a lot could be said about a woman who could like who he was now. And maybe, if he was lucky, even fall in love with who he was right now.
It had to be a good thing because she’d be seeing him for who he truly was, instead of the image he may have projected before. And no doubt he was a very different person now than before. He’d still been a good man regardless, but he’d been cocky and sure of life, sure of what he was doing. At least he tried hard to project that image. Whereas now he’d had his feet knocked out from under him. Literally.
After his shower, he made his way back to his bed with his crutches, a towel wrapped around his hips and a second one in his hands to dry off his hair. He sat down on the side of the bed, groaning with the effort.
No doubt something was going on inside him because he could feel himself resisting Shane, resisting everything he was pushing Iain forward to.
Whether it was Iain’s belief this was all a waste of time, he didn’t know. He was dealing with so much pain, and he was at this point in time where it didn’t seem like there was any progress, so why bother? And yet Shane was so encouraging and seemed so cheerful and happy about Iain’s work that it’s almost like a disconnect existed between Shane and Iain. Or at least between him and the reality of his body.
Iain didn’t see any change, didn’t see putting his body through all this for no change whatsoever, whereas Shane said he definitely saw an improvement. Iain couldn’t see it, and he was so caught up in the pain and the torture that he was going through on a daily basis right now that it was hard to see anything optimistic. He wanted to believe Shane, but how was Iain supposed to do that?
He picked up the notebook, then opened the front cover and read the note. His eyebrows shot up. “Well, you definitely bought this for me,” he murmured. He looked at the fountain pen and smiled at the old-fashioned tool. It brought back memories of school days where he’d taken a calligraphy course for an easy elective class, something that he’d really enjoyed at the time. But he wasn’t much of a writer, so he hadn’t really found a whole lot of purpose in it.