Room for Recovery

by D. J. Jamison

  He knocked, and Amos immediately called for him to enter. He stepped inside to see the man in bed, the blankets pulled up and the remains of a half-eaten dinner on the rolling table beside him.

  He smiled to see Beau. “You came back!”

  “I said I would,” Beau said, approaching the bed. “How are you?”

  “Bored,” he said bluntly, “and nervous. Wish I could turn off this old brain of mine. I think too much.”

  “I could turn on the TV or get you something to read?”

  Amos brightened. “You have books?”

  “Magazines in the gift shop.”

  His face fell. “Darn. I love a good book, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Was hoping you could read to me. Or am I taking up too much of your time?”

  Beau didn’t ordinarily visit with patients a long time, but Amos seemed lonely. He hated to see that smile vanish.

  “I have an idea. Give me a few minutes.”

  Beau dashed down to a locker room where he left his backpack. He unzipped his bag and pulled out his copy of Catcher in the Rye and high-tailed it back to Amos’s room. He had to do a report on the book for AP English anyway, so it was a win-win.

  He held up the book as he entered, and Amos beamed. “A classic.”

  “Have you read it?” Beau asked.

  “Holden Caulfield and I go way back,” he said with a chuckle, “but I enjoy visiting old friends.”

  Beau sat down in a chair and opened the book to the first page.

  ***

  Wade’s mother had tried dating exactly twice, and each time had ended in disaster. One guy had bolted the second he learned she had two children, and the other had been an utter control freak who tried to tell her how to discipline her kids. He was a spare the rod, spoil the child sort of guy.

  Wade hadn’t liked either guy his mother dated. He hadn’t liked the idea of her dating at all. So, when she’d given up, he’d been happy. Which is why he didn’t see it coming when he rushed down the stairs, late for picking up Beau at his volunteer gig, only to nearly run into his mother on the porch.

  His mother and a man.

  His mother and a man kissing on the porch.

  He let the screen door slam shut behind him. “Who the fuck is this?”

  They jumped apart like two teenagers caught making out by their parents. If he hadn’t been so shocked, it might have been funny.

  “Wade,” she exclaimed. “Watch your language.” After a pause, she added, “Why aren’t you with Beau?”

  “He’s volunteering tonight.”

  “Oh. Of course …”

  Wade crossed his arms and stared at the man who’d just been mauling his mother. He looked to be in his mid-forties with jet black hair. He didn’t look like Wade’s father. He was taller, broader and had more muscle.

  “My bad,” Wade said sarcastically. “Who is this, please and thank you?”

  His mother rolled her eyes, used to his smartass attitude. Her cheeks were flushed, and Wade hoped it was from embarrassment. He wanted her to feel awkward. She hadn’t whispered a thing about any new dates, so what the fuck?

  Her date responded by holding out a hand. “You must be the man of the house,” he said with a guarded smile. “I’m Ray Bernard.”

  Wade shook Ray’s hand, noting he had a firm grip but didn’t try to prove his machismo by squeezing too hard. He also recognized Ray’s attempt to reverse-psych him by calling him the “man of the house,” as if that title meant anything to him. The idea that his mother needed a patriarch in the house was old-fashioned, if not sexist, but Wade grudgingly gave him points for handling himself with more dignity than his mother’s previous dates had.

  “Ray,” Wade said, “no offense, but I’d like to hear from my mother who you are.”

  She blushed. “He’s a friend, Wade.”

  “A ‘friend,’” Wade said, using finger quotes. “You looked more than friendly.”

  “Oh my Lord,” she said, raising a hand to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Ray. I didn’t mean for you meet like this. Wade can be ... blunt.”

  Ray tucked his thumbs in his front pockets and rocked back on his feet. He wore cowboy boots, dark blue jeans and a green flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. Wade could see the collar of a black T-shirt beneath at his neckline. Just as Wade took his measure, he sensed Ray was doing the same.

  After a loaded silence, Ray smiled. “No harm done, I’m sure it was a surprise to Wade.” He met Wade’s gaze. “Your mother and I have been friends for a while, just friends. We talk on the phone, text — all that kind of thing you kids do,” he said with a smirk. “I started stopping by when I drive through town for work.”

  He waved over his shoulder, and Wade noticed the big rig truck parked on their street. He’d been so focused on his mother’s lip-lock that he hadn’t even noticed the royal blue semi taking up a large stretch of curb across the street from their house.

  He looked at his mother in horror. “You’re dating a truck driver?”

  ***

  Beau hurried out of the emergency room doors to see Wade’s blue Toyota rolling into the parking lot. He’d gotten caught up reading to Amos and lost track of time. At the end of every chapter, Amos asked him something about himself or his life views, and before Beau knew it, they were laughing like old friends.

  Wade’s car jerked to a stop before him, and he opened the door.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Wade apologized as Beau slid in.

  “Actually, I was running behind, so you’re right on time,” Beau said.

  He was in a good mood after spending time with Amos, but Wade was agitated. His fingers tapped erratically at the steering wheel as he waited impatiently for Beau to get settled. The second Beau’s seat belt clicked into place, Wade gunned the accelerator.

  “I know I rushed out of the hospital, but I didn’t rob the place.”

  Wade glanced at him, his eyes distant. “Hmm.”

  “You’re driving like this is a getaway car,” Beau said, pointing to the speedometer, which had ticked up to 40 on a quiet side street. “How about you ease up?”

  Wade lifted his foot, and the car dropped to 30 miles per hour. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just a little rattled, and I need to get home.”

  “You don’t want to study?” Beau suppressed his disappointment.

  Thanks to Amos, his reading for English class was done, so he’d looked forward to spending the evening coaching Wade and admiring the way his forehead wrinkled when he was concentrating. Wade always looked good, but there was something about a hot guy using his brain that was even sexier.

  Wade sped up to catch a yellow light, then had to slam the brakes to stop when it turned red before he made it into the intersection. He groaned and thumped his forehead against the steering wheel.

  “What’s up with you?” Beau asked, concerned.

  Wade raised his head. “I’m being stupid.”

  “I’m gonna need a few more details,” Beau said. “You’re often stupid.”

  Wade huffed a laugh. “You sweet talker, you.”

  Beau waited him out, and sure enough, once the light turned green and Wade resumed the drive to Beau’s house, he started talking.

  “My mother has a boyfriend.”

  “Whoa, really?” Beau said. It wasn’t too surprising. Helen was beautiful, and enough time had finally passed that she was probably ready for a relationship. She’d been a widow for four years now. He proceeded cautiously. “That’s good, though, right? She’s probably lonely.”

  Wade’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Maybe, but she didn’t even tell me. I caught her kissing some stranger on the porch.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah,” Wade said. “Plus, he doesn’t live in Ashe. He’s a trucker. For all we know, he has a woman in every town he passes through, you know? She met him on the Internet.”

  Wade said Internet like it was a dirty word, and Beau burst out laughing. Wade glared at him, but Beau couldn�
��t help it. The role reversal was amusing.

  “You sound like her dad,” he said. Then he clarified, “You sound like her dad, who’s afraid of that new-fangled Internet.”

  Wade rolled his eyes, but a smile played around his lips. “Okay, but I’m not wrong to be concerned.”

  “Just talk to her about it,” Beau said, then amended his statement to add, “but be nice.”

  Wade shot him a look but didn’t argue.

  “Your mom is smart,” Beau continued. “She’s not the gullible type to be taken in, but if you’re worried about her and not just looking for reasons to end her relationship, then talk to her about it.”

  Wade blew out a frustrated breath. “That sounds reasonable.”

  “But you don’t want to be reasonable?” Beau guessed.

  Wade laughed as he turned on Beau’s street, slowing to take the turn into his driveway. “Got it in one.”

  Beau grabbed his backpack from between his feet and rested his right hand on the door handle. “I know you’re in a hurry, so let me just say one last thing. Do you really want your mother to be alone for the rest of her life?”

  He slid out of the car and slammed the door, hoping he’d left Wade with some food for thought. Helen Ritter was a beautiful, sweet person who had love to give. Unlike Beau’s mother, she wasn’t bitter and jaded. She had a lot of years left, and it only seemed fair she find someone to share them with. She’d had more than her share of grief. All of the Ritters had.

  ***

  The big rig was gone when Wade returned home. He went inside and found his mother and sister seated in the living room, empty bowls of ice cream on the coffee table in front of them.

  “Mom wants to have a family meeting,” Katy announced. She pushed out her bottom lip in the fake pout she’d perfected. “She won’t tell me why.”

  “Sit down, Wade,” his mother said as he hesitated. He’d been in a rush to get home and see Ray out. He felt a little disappointed he wouldn’t get the chance to close the door behind him. He’d been forced to leave in the middle of their confrontation on the porch, and the last thing he’d seen as he backed down the drive was his mother leading Ray through the front door.

  He dropped into an armchair catty-corner from the sofa. “So, your boyfriend left?”

  Katy’s eyes popped wide. “Boyfriend?”

  Helen massaged her temples with two fingers, and Wade told himself to dial it down a notch. As angry as he was, she’d hidden the truth from him, Beau’s reasonable words kept running through his mind. Did he really want his mother to be alone forever? What about after he and Katy were out of the house? He didn’t like the picture of his mother all alone in this big two-story, no one to share a bowl of ice cream with her.

  “Okay guys, I messed up,” Helen said, surprising Wade. “I admit it. I should have told you that I was interested in someone. But in my defense, we really were just friends until recently. He’s only been through town twice.”

  Wade cleared his throat. “You guys met online, right? He mentioned he didn’t live here, so I’m guessing it was some kind of dating site.”

  Helen nodded. “I made profiles on a few, but the dating options around Ashe aren’t great.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, you remember Drake.”

  “He was a jerk,” Katy confirmed.

  “Anyway, I wasn’t too serious about meeting ‘the one.’ I just thought it was fun to talk to new people. I started messaging with some men around the Kansas City area because I grew up there.” She shrugged. “We messaged, then talked on the phone and texted. Eventually, we agreed to meet up. And there you have it, my big secret.”

  “But why, Mom?” Wade said. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to meet him the first time?”

  “I guess I didn’t want to fight about it.” She looked Wade in the eye. “You were confrontational with my other dates—”

  “They were assholes!”

  “Partly because of the way you acted,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s certainly been an interesting way to vet dates,” she added wryly. “You pushed them right to their limits, and I got to see right away their true colors when frustrated. I liked Ray too much for that. I wanted a chance to really get to know him before everything imploded.”

  “So, it’s my fault dating hasn’t worked out for you?” Wade asked, surprisingly hurt by that. At the time she’d dated a series of men, he’d been sixteen and in full-rage mode. They’d only lived in Ashe for a few months, and he was in a cycle of grief and anger with no outlet except his mother. The only thing that kept him in check was the talk his Uncle Trent had with him right before they moved to Ashe.

  Wade and his mother had argued in Kansas City, and he’d hit her. He hadn’t planned it, but he was so angry and she was there, and his fist flew before he even realized what he was doing. Then he’d been so horrified he ran away and slept on a friend’s couch.

  Trent showed up the next day, lured him home and then told him point-blank that if he ever hit his mother again, Trent would personally make sure he was arrested and spent the rest of his teenage years in juvenile detention. He’d never seen Trent so angry, and Wade had never felt so ashamed. He’d never raised a hand to his mother again, but sometimes — if they started to argue — he’d seen a hint of fear in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he’d know she was remembering and a small part of her was afraid.

  “Oh, honey,” Helen said, moving off the sofa to ruffle his hair. “I shouldn’t have said it that way. I don’t think those men were right for me, and I don’t think the time was right for any of us. But this feels different, and I wanted a chance to see if Ray was even worth introducing to you guys. Because I know it won’t be easy, seeing me date someone.”

  “Will he move in?” Katy asked in a small voice.

  Helen returned to the sofa, putting an arm around Katy in a half-hug. “No, of course not. We’re nowhere near that stage. We’re just dating, and he doesn’t even live here.”

  “So, if it gets serious, who moves?” Wade asked.

  Helen shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’d go back there?” Wade pressed. “Live in Kansas City again?”

  “I don’t know, Wade,” she said more firmly. “Let’s just see how the dating goes. He’s met you now, and I want him to meet Katy. Then we can decide if we want to keep seeing one another.”

  “How can you trust him?” Wade said. “He’s a truck driver.”

  “Would you stop with that?” she said with an exasperated laugh. “He drives trucks for a company, yes. He mostly serves the Midwest. That hardly makes him dishonest?”

  “He could be dating women all over the place.”

  She pressed her lips together. “That could be said of any man,” she said. “I trust Ray. He’s been consistent and reliable. He’s shared a lot about his life.”

  “Let me guess, his wife died of cancer,” Wade said dryly.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. He’s divorced. He’s tried dating around Kansas City, and he’s had a couple of relationships, but nothing lasting. He’s just doing the same thing we all are, Wade.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Trying to connect with someone.”

  Chapter 11

  Beau passed through the recovery department, a “Wishing You a Speedy Recovery!” greeting card in one hand, his copy of Catcher in the Rye in the other. The night had been slow, and he’d thought of Amos Jacobs, alone in the hospital with no close loved ones and the fact no one would be bringing him cards or balloons, so he’d made a card purchase of his own. The book he’d brought with him, in case Amos wanted him to read again.

  “Good evening, Beau,” the charge nurse called.

  He strolled up to the counter. “Hey, I thought I’d stop and see how Amos Jacobs is recovering. He’s still here, right?”

  Amos had been admitted only the day before, but sometimes surgery patients were released quickly if it was a routine operation. Given Amos’s
age, Beau suspected he wouldn’t be in and out in a day.

  “That’s sweet, but a bit premature. His surgery was pushed back.”

  “Oh, wow. Well, can I pop in and say hi?”

  “Just don’t wake him if he’s sleeping,” she said, waving him along.

  Beau smiled gratefully and headed down the hall. He peeked in to be sure Amos wasn’t sleeping. When he saw him propped up on his pillows, he tapped on the doorframe.

  Amos looked over with a scowl. “What— Oh, it’s you! Come in, come in. I thought another sadistic nurse was here to torture me.”

  Beau laughed as he came through the door and took a seat in the chair beside the head of the bed. “You know the nurses are here to keep you healthy.”

  “Harrumph. They poke and prod me, and I haven’t even had my operation yet. I shudder to think how they’ll be when I’m frail and vulnerable.”

  There was an ornery twinkle in his eye.

  “I thought maybe you’d want to pick up where we left off,” Beau said, lifting his copy of Catcher in the Rye.

  “Oh, yes,” Amos exclaimed. “I love literature. You know, I used to teach English to high school students like yourself.”

  “Really? When was that?”

  “Must have been more than 15 years ago now,” he mused.

  “You probably know this book well then,” Beau remarked. “Was it required reading for your classes?”

  Amos chuckled. “Indeed, it was. But the great thing about the classics is that they reveal something new with every read,” he said. “I’d love to hear more. You’re such a good reader.”

  Beau flushed at the praise. It was silly to feel good about reading to an old man, but at that moment it seemed a precious gift.

  He lifted the book to read but paused. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

  “I don’t know, can you?” he teased.

  Beau rolled his eyes. “I opened the door to that one. Um, I have a friend who asked me to tutor him,” he said. “As a teacher, how did you draw the line between teaching someone how to do something and doing too much for them. It’s been a bit tricky not to just tell him how to do his paper.”