Wounded Pride

by Mae, Mandee

  “Let’s get to work.” Speak of the devil.

  He showed. I look up and see Pierce sitting there waiting for me to respond. He came dressed for the occasion today in a t-shirt and shorts. I’ve always loved the way his legs look in shorts. Lord have mercy. I don’t know how long I actually sit there with my mouth open before he talks to me again.

  “Kinlee…are we going to do this or not?” I take a closer look and see he still has the same look of determination in his eyes after all these years.

  Hell, yeah. I don’t want him to leave again so I steel myself and stand up, walking around to the other side to stand in front of him. I looked at his chart several times since that first incident, so I know what he’s here for. The doctors told him he’d never walk again. That he just needed physical therapy so his muscles wouldn’t tighten, but I’m sure he has other plans. He’s always been one up for a good challenge and I’m sure he sees this as exactly that…a challenge to prove them wrong.

  “Yes. Thank you…”

  He doesn’t even let me finish what I was going to say before he cuts me off. “Don’t. I’m here to work on getting back on my feet. That’s it. Nothing more.” He gives me a look that is supposed to tell me that he means business, but it doesn’t fool me. I know him, or I did, probably better than he knows himself.

  “Okay. Can I ask…”

  “No.” He does it again. He turns and starts heading over to the table.

  “Are you going to let me talk to you at all?” I already know the answer to that, but I ask anyway.

  “Only if it pertains to what I need to do, other than that…not yet.”

  Well, at least it wasn’t a ‘no’. Okay, I can deal with that…for now. I instruct him to transfer over to the table and asking him if he needs any help is the wrong thing to say.

  “I can fucking do it,” he spits back, locking the wheels and maneuvering himself over to the table just like I asked.

  “It’s part of my job. This is our first session so I need to learn what you can and can’t do.” Once he’s finally situated, I move the chair back and step back in front of him.

  “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” he asks snidely.

  “What? You mean to ask if you need help?”

  He chuckles, “No, I mean bitchy and demanding.”

  God, it’s so good to hear him laugh, even if it is just a small one. “If it means getting you to meet your goals, then yes, that is exactly how I’m going to be.”

  “Are you like this with all your patients?” At least he is continuing to talk to me even though he said he wouldn’t.

  “Lie back. We need to work on stretching first, and yes, I’m like this with everyone.” He lies back and I kneel down and remove his shoes so I can start with the stretching exercises.

  “Good. I don’t want any special treatment.”

  “Glad to hear it because you won’t be getting any special treatment from me. If anything, I’m going to be harder on you,” I reply, lifting one leg up, bending and flexing.

  He doesn’t say anything back to me because he knows it’s true. I will be harder on him. Not in the beginning, but I will push him more than I would any other patient because I know that’s how he works. If I don’t do it, then he will, but at least I’ll know when to stop. He doesn’t.

  I continue the leg exercises while watching him at the same time. He closed his eyes when he laid back, probably so he wouldn’t have to see me. I have to admit that thought hurts me just a little, but the fact that he is here, willing to work with me, takes some of the hurt away.

  “Okay, sit up now.” He doesn’t say anything but does as I ask. I kneel down in front of him, placing his left foot in my hand. “Push against my hand.” He does a little. He’s not completely paralyzed. He has minimal movement, but it’s a start. It’s more than they originally told him. “Good.” I place his foot down and reach for the other. “Again.” And he does. He has more strength in the right leg than he does the left, which tells me that we are going to have to work harder on the left side. I keep my focus, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel his eyes on me, paying special attention to what I’m doing. I don’t look up and return his gaze. I’m actually a little bit afraid of what I might see if I do.

  We continue working for another half an hour, having him do various things, more pushing and pulling, some strengthening exercises. “That’s it for today. You did well.” I slide his shoes back on.

  “Are you serious? That’s it?” He looks up at me and narrows his eyes, not really believing what I’m telling him.

  I look him square in the eyes and nod my head. “Yes, for today, that’s it.” I stand to my full height and watch him.

  “Not good enough.” He stares at me while shaking his head. “I need to do more. I thought you said you weren’t going to take it easy on me?” Of course, it’s not good enough. He always feels like he needs to do more. He’s never satisfied until he’s accomplished his goal, but dammit, he’s not going to accomplish it in one day.

  I turn and head off to the side to grab his wheelchair, pushing the chair right up to where he needs it to get in. I lock the wheels so it doesn’t move but remain behind it just in case.

  “And I’m not, but for the first day, that’s all we’re doing. We’ll do more at your next appointment.”

  He starts maneuvering himself back to his chair. “Dammit, Kinlee…”

  “Stop right there, Pierce. I said I was going to push you and I will, but not the first day. I know what I’m doing. You just have to trust me.”

  “That’s the problem…I don’t know if I can,” he spits out while repositioning himself in his chair.

  “Pierce…”

  He unlocks his wheels and heads for the door. “Don’t, Kinlee. I’ll be back tomorrow. You’d better be ready.”

  There it is. There’s the Pierce that I know. If he wants me to push him, then I will. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m just not going to hurt him in the process. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. Again.

  Chapter Four

  He came back the following day just like he said he would. For the next couple of months, he came in, Monday through Friday. I pushed him some days more than others, but there were days that we did smaller exercises. He would get so pissed when I wouldn’t let him do everything that he wanted to. He didn’t leave like I had expected him to. I suspect that he stayed because it was so quiet and because there was someone else in the room. Those days I paid special attention. There were days where he just sat and looked out the window, not saying a word. There were even days that he just sat there and either stared at the wall or the floor. He showed no emotion. His face was like a blank canvas. I would sit at my desk for hours just watching him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. I wished so many times that I could read his mind. I prayed time and time again, wanting desperately to take away the pain he was feeling. I cringed inside knowing I was responsible for a lot of that pain that I saw on his face and vowed that I would never be the cause of that pain again. I also knew that he still suffered from PTSD and I could only do so much. I couldn’t make him talk to me or anyone else for that matter. He was the one who had to go through the motions. There was no magic pill or potion. It had to be dealt with.

  He was different when he came in today. This was what he’s been working so hard for. He was in a different mindset. There was more determination in his eyes today. He came in and wheeled right up to the bars. I reach around him to put on the belt.

  “I don’t need that fucking belt. Get it off me. I can do this,” he states firmly.

  “I can’t. I have to have it on you in case you fall,” I tell him back just as firmly. If he wants to be an ass, then I can be an ass right back.

  “I’m not going to fall…” he starts to reply before I cut him off.

  “Are you going to sit there and argue with me about a damn belt or are you going to show me what you came here to do?” I knew that would get his
blood boiling, but he needed to know that I wasn’t going to back down. There were several times these past few weeks that we got into a very heated argument over what I would or wouldn’t let him do. He can be one stubborn ass when he wants to be, but so can I.

  “Fuck. Fine. Let’s do this.” He reaches up and places both hands on the bar.

  “Okay. Now start out slow. Don’t push yourself too far. This is just the first time. We can work…”

  “Would you just shut up and hel…” He lets out a deep breath, not continuing with what he was going to say. I know that he was going to ask me for help, but that was something that he’s been dead set against from day one. Asking for my help. He won’t do it. “Can we just get on with it? Please.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” He was pissed at me to begin with because I wouldn’t let him do the long bars. I told him that he needed to start out on the short one and work his way up to the long one. We argued back and forth for several minutes about that yesterday before he finally gave in and agreed. I know it was hard for him to accept that he needed to start out slower than what he wanted, but in the end, I truly believe that he will walk again. I just have to keep reminding him that this is a process and that nothing ever happens overnight.

  I grab hold of the belt and move the chair out of the way slightly so I can get around it when he stands. I’m holding my breath and jumping up and down inside at seeing him on his feet. This is what he’s worked so hard for. He still has a long way to go, but this, right here, is the beginning. This right here is what I’ve been praying for as well.

  He slowly lifts one foot, then the other, making his way down. One painstaking step at a time. He stumbles once, catching himself on the bar, but my grip on the belt tightens all the same.

  “Fuck. I’ve got it, goddammit. Let go of me.”

  “Keep going. Take the next step.” I don’t let what he says hurt me. I only encourage him to continue because I know that’s what he needs. I know he’s anxious to get to the end of the bar. Hell, I’m just as anxious for him to achieve this milestone.

  He keeps a good, slow pace. Moving his arms forward and then taking a step. He only has a few to go and he will have made it to the end. “Great job. How are your arms?”

  “Good.” This time I only get a one-word reply.

  “Okay. Do you want to turn and go back or do you want me to get your chair?”

  “Do you really need to ask that?” he states sarcastically.

  “Yes. I do, but I know the answer. Take it slow.”

  I help him position himself so he can turn, one slow step at a time until he’s facing the other way. This is why I was dead set on him doing the small bars first. I knew that he would want to go back the way he came. Never doing things the easy way. Always wanting to prove that he can do more than he thinks or feels he can. One day he’s going to push it too far and I’m not going to be there to stop him.

  We slowly but surely make our way back to the end of the bars. What would normally take us a few seconds to walk has taken him several minutes, but he finished. That’s what’s important. That’s all that matters in the end. When he reaches the last of the bar, I duck under him and reach for his chair, bringing it up close so all he has to do is turn to sit down.

  “You did really good. I’m pr…”

  “Don’t. Take this damn belt off me.” He doesn’t wait for me to take the belt off. He rips it off himself and tosses it aside.

  Where in the hell did that come from? We have been able to talk a little more lately and I thought that some of the walls that he had were starting to come down. But from that remark he just made, they’re right back up where they were to begin with.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’m not here tomorrow.” I had to tell him something. He can’t come back tomorrow and expect to do the same thing. That will be pushing his body too hard, and I can’t let that happen.

  He stops where he’s at but doesn’t turn around. “Fine. I’ll be back Thursday.” And then continues forward.

  After I look at tomorrow’s schedule and explain to my boss that something’s come up, even though it’s a complete lie. I’m able to move appointments around and take tomorrow off just like I told him. I call my mom and let her know that I’ll be by to visit after work, which will be in about 15 minutes. Pierce was my last appointment so as soon as I shut everything down and chart the progress, I’m out the door and headed to my parents’ house.

  My mom assaults me with questions as soon as I step inside. Maybe I shouldn’t have come over.

  “Well, how’s he doing, dear?”

  I walk past her, trying to ignore the question, and straight into the kitchen to grab a glass of tea. It doesn’t work.

  “Kinlee?”

  I turn to face my mom. “I can’t talk about it, Mom.”

  She looks a little offended by my comment but doesn’t stop. “Oh, I won’t say anything. I can keep a secret.”

  A secret? Why in the hell does she think this is a secret? She knows that he’s been coming to therapy. How I don’t know, but everyone knows everything in a small town. Everyone always knows everyone else’s business.

  I can’t hide the snicker that bubbles up. “Mom, I don’t have a secret. I can’t talk about the patients. It’s called confidentiality. It’s the law.”

  “Hogwash.” She gives me a disapproving look and waves her hand. “I know he’s going to you for therapy. I just want to know how he’s doing.”

  Hogwash? Who in the hell says hogwash anymore? I smile wide with my reply. “Well, then I guess you’re just going to have to ask him, aren’t you?” I give her the same response that she gave me not so long ago. Ha! That felt good. She doesn’t look too happy with my reply, but that’s all she’s getting. I take my job very seriously. You don’t ever discuss patients…with anyone.

  We sit out on the back porch for a while, drinking tea and talking. She continues to throw in little tidbits about wanting to know how Pierce is doing and I deflect her every time. She finally gives up when my dad gets on her. I’ve always looked up to my mom and dad. They always seemed to have the perfect marriage. I mean sure, they’ve had their fights like normal married couples, but the love that they continue to show each other, after all these years, is clearly evident when they look at each other. It’s written all over their faces. They don’t care if they were behind closed doors or out in public. Their hands roam where they want to and if they want to kiss, they do. It doesn’t matter who’s around. That’s something I want. That’s the type of relationship I want to have when I get married. That’s the type of relationship I had and let go.

  Rising from my chair, I tell my parents that I’m heading out. I have some things to take care of before the end of the night. I need to run by the store and grab a few things for supper. I hadn’t planned to stay for dinner tonight and decline when asked. I just want to be by myself this evening. I walk back inside, depositing my glass in the sink, then head out the front door. There were a lot of things running through my head as well that I need to work through. I need to be alone for that.

  Chapter Five

  “Dammit, Pierce. Slow down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He showed up Thursday rearing to go. Something’s crawled up his ass today and I don’t like it. His shirt is already sweat stained. He looks like a complete mess. It’s a good thing he’s my last appointment. It’s taken all my control not to knock him on his ass just to get him to slow down. Of course, I would never do that, but damn, he’s really pushing my buttons.

  “I can’t. I have to do this.” The determination is there on his face as well as something else that I’ve never seen before. I don’t like the look of it. Something’s going on in that head of his.

  My grip tightens on the belt. I don’t have a good feeling about this. He’s pushing himself too far this time. I have the chair within reach and if I have to yank him back down in it to get him to slow down, then I will…unfortunately, I don’t get to.
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  His feet tangle on the next step and he trips. When he tries to readjust his grip, his hand slips as well. I’m able to slow the fall, but he still goes down.

  “Shit. Are you o…”

  He pounds his fist into the mat several times. “Fuck! Why’d you do that? I had it. I was almost there.” He yells so loud that it startles me and when he finally stops beating the mat, he turns to stare at me. “This is your fault.”

  “My fault? You were pushing yourself too hard. I told you to slow down. What is going on with you today?” I can’t believe he’s actually blaming me for this. I didn’t make him go down.

  He looks angry. He grits his teeth together and reaches for the chair, pulling it right behind him, shoving me completely out of the way in the process. I go around to the side to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself any more than what he already has.

  “Goddammit. Stop already.” He pushes away my hands and manages to get himself into the chair. His arms were visibly shaking. He’s obviously pissed.

  I’m stunned. He’s never talked to me like that. The anger in his voice. The way he’s acting. Something is definitely wrong. Once he has himself situated he reaches for the belt and tears it off him in a matter of seconds, throwing it on the floor, and is out of the room in no time flat. I don’t yell after him. He needs time to cool down. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll go by his house and see how he’s doing.

  I’m shocked again when I pull up into his drive and realize where I’m at and how close we actually live to one another. How in the hell had I not known this is where he lived? I walk by this house every evening on my walks. The entire time I’ve been back, he’s only been four blocks away. How we have not crossed paths before is beyond me. I wonder if he’s seen me walk by his house. Why hasn’t he said anything?