A Life Worth Living

by Lorrie Kruse

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Seated in the recliner next to his bed, Matt doodled a house design on a napkin. If he ignored the safety rails on the bed, he could almost convince himself everything was back to normal. Well, he might have to do a little more in the way of creative snow jobs, like invent a damn good reason for him to be sitting on his ass doodling at nine in the morning on a workday. That, and come up with an explanation for why he couldn’t feel his ass making an impression in the padded vinyl.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Bad move. He was more aware than ever of the divot his head made against the recliner back, which made him even more conscious of the fact that he couldn’t feel his ass.

  Tight pressure cinched a ring around his neck.

  Think about something else.

  Like what? The fact that, pretty soon, I’m not going to have any money to pay bills? Or, that my physical therapist looks young enough to be a high school cheerleader?

  He could have gotten a real therapist, one who worked only with spinal cord injuries, but no. He’d insisted on staying here, to be close to Crystal. And now, he was stuck with a kid in charge of his therapy. Good plan.

  “Bro?” a deep voice whispered.

  Matt opened his eyes. His best friend, Derrick Vetter, stood just inside the door. He looked like a piece of home in his drywall-mud-splattered jeans and worn winter jacket. Such a change from the kid he’d been in second grade. The only reason Matt had asked the new kid to sit at his table at lunch was because it was the exact thing his father would have done. He hadn’t expected to actually like the pasty-white geek dressed in a suit, complete with a pocket protector. He certainly hadn’t expected to form a lasting friendship with him, not when he already had a pack of friends, all of whom were vying for “best friend” status.

  Derrick’s left hand was clenched around the rolled edge of a McDonald’s bag. The scent of greasy hash browns filled the air.

  Matt grinned. “I hope there’s a Sausage McMuffin in there.”

  “If you had any sense of good taste, I would have gotten you coffee, too.”

  “That’ll be the day, when I’m addicted to coffee like you and Crystal.”

  “Like I said, no sense of taste.”

  Matt watched his friend’s legs move with fluid grace. For a fraction of a second, a bitter jealousy stirred deep in his heart. He hated Derrick for being able to walk. Hated him. He drew in a deep breath and let it trickle out, forcing the anger out, as well. It wasn’t Derrick’s fault Matt had the accident.

  “What brings you to these parts?”

  “Coming to bring you breakfast not enough of a reason, bro?” Derrick handed Matt the bag and then grabbed a chair.

  “Not during working hours. I doubt Dad’s letting you play hooky.”

  Derrick picked up Matt’s work of art. “Looks like I should have brought you drawing pads instead of breakfast.” He dropped the napkin back onto the table. “Our window order came in, but they can’t deliver until Monday and we need it now. Brad and Pops are tied up, so that left me.” Derrick leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “So, how are you?”

  “Great.” Matt fumbled with the McMuffin’s paper wrapper. The comment about Brad and his father stuck to his brain like a burr on socks. They wouldn’t be so busy if Matt hadn’t taken an unplanned vacation.

  Derrick tipped his head and frowned. “You don’t look half bad.”

  “Thanks, I think.” He took in his friend’s tired eyes and wished he could say the same.

  Furrows formed between Derrick’s brows. “No, I mean, I just thought since you’re…”

  Silence spread between them.

  Matt forced a smile and made his voice light. “You can say it. Paralyzed.” The last word was bitter on his tongue.

  “Doesn’t seem possible. We were shooting hoops one night, and then the next…” Derrick’s gaze fell to his clasped hands hanging between his knees. After a moment of silence, he said, “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

  It shouldn’t have, but it had.

  He and Derrick had shared a lot of secrets throughout the years, things Matt would have never given up to anyone else, not even under extreme torture. He wanted to spit out the standard lines that it was okay, that he was okay, but he couldn’t lie to his friend. “I’m scared.”

  Derrick closed his eyes for a moment as he took in a deep breath. He let it out slowly. His cheeks remained puffed out until he finally sat up straight, his gaze meeting Matt’s only briefly. “I’d be damn scared, myself.”

  “What if I don’t walk again? How am I supposed to work?”

  “There are plenty of jobs you can do.”

  “None that are going to get the group home done under budget and on time. I convinced Dad to bid on the contract, and now I’ve screwed it all up.”

  “You didn’t screw up anything. This isn’t your fault.”

  “How do you know? What if I could have avoided the accident?”

  “It’s true, then? That you don’t remember anything about the accident?”

  “Last thing I remember is crawling through my kitchen window.” Wishing the whole time he’d replaced the spare house key to its hiding place outside the last time he’d used it.

  “That reminds me.” Derrick dug in his jacket pocket and then held up Matt’s key ring. “Think these might have helped?”

  “Where’d you find ‘em?” Matt had searched the jobsite for at least an hour.

  “Right where you’d expect them to be. In the tool trailer, behind the miter box, under the sandpaper.” Derrick dug in his pocket again. This time he pulled out Matt’s cell phone. “Good thing your pecker’s attached.”

  “Where was my phone?”

  “On the bathroom window ledge—outside—under a pile of snow.”

  Great. Matt snagged the phone, hit the power button, and said a little prayer. The start-up jingle played. Even as he muttered a thank you to the cell phone gods, something felt wrong. Before the thought could take root, Derrick distracted him.

  “You know, all you’d have to do is put your stuff away when you’re done with it.”

  “You sound like Dad.”

  Derrick shrugged.

  Put your stuff away when you’re done with it, he thought as he set the phone on the table. Such a simple concept, one he’d heard a thousand times. He had a problem with simple. He had a problem with a lot of things. Like not being able to remember leaving the house. “It’s weird having a chunk of your memory missing.”

  “I’d think that’d feel normal to you.” The dimple in Derrick’s cheek showed.

  “Remind me to laugh later, okay? Seriously, it’s bugging me why I was out there.”

  Derrick picked at a lump of putty embedded in his jeans. “You decided to take a cruise. Nothing odd about that.”

  “I wouldn’t have been out for a ride. The roads were bad.”

  Derrick kept his head down, but his finger paused. “You probably didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “I remember almost hitting the garage when I got home, the driveway was so slick. There’s no way I would have gone back out unless there was a good reason.”

  “Knowing why isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

  Matt shrugged.

  “You should be happy you can’t remember. You really want to go through the accident over and over?” He looked back at Matt for just a second. “Trust me. It’s best you don’t remember.”

  Matt looked down at his uneaten sandwich. He’d been a hell of a lot hungrier ten minutes ago. “I can’t stand that I’m letting Dad down. Crystal, too.” He rubbed his forehead as the weight of all of his worries pressed down on him. “Damn, Derrick. How can I expect Crystal to stick by me? This isn’t fair to her.”

  “Oh, come on now. You don’t seriously think she’d break up with you just because you’re paralyzed, do you?”

  “Just because I’m paralyzed? Of course not. But it isn’t going to help matte
rs. Not when we’ve had more than our share of ups and downs.”

  “Just like the rest of the world. Nobody’s got a perfect relationship.”

  “My parents do.”

  “Your parents don’t air their problems in public, that’s all. Crystal’s not going to leave you hanging, not over this, and that’s a guarantee I feel comfortable making.”

  Matt found himself smiling. “And I should take your word on this because you’re so successful at long relationships, huh?”

  “Hey, I dated Heidi for eight months.”

  “Her name was Holly, and you barely made it four.” Like he was anyone to talk. Until he’d met Crystal, his relationships had been as short and scattered as Derrick’s.

  “Four months? Really? It felt longer.” Derrick glanced at his watch. “Speaking of longer, wish I could stay, but I promised Pops I’d be back by eleven.” Derrick stood. His gaze landed on Matt’s legs for only a second before he looked away, his attention high on the wall. The lighthearted moment vanished. “I’m sorry, Matt. This never should have happened.”

  Before Matt could open his mouth, Derrick had left. Matt frowned at the empty doorway. He wasn’t sure which was more unsettling—that Derrick had called him by his name, instead of “bro,” or that it looked like his pal was about to cry.

  Despite Derrick’s advice, he thought back to that night. Why had he gone out? If only he could remember. Then what? He’d magically be able to walk again? Like Derrick said, maybe it was best he didn’t know. Besides, trying to recall a memory that wasn’t there was giving him a headache. That, and worrying about how he was going to make ends meet.

  He thought again about calling the bank to ask for interest-only payments for awhile. It had been a random thought before. Working things out in his head. A random thought that might be the only way to hold on to his house.

  Two phones were within reach. One attached to the bed. His cell phone, right there within reach on the over-bed table.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He saw his house superimposed on his retinas. It really was a great house. One he couldn’t stand to lose.

  He grabbed his cell phone, and that weird feeling hit him again. He looked at the phone from all angles. Visually, it looked the same, right down to the drywall putty embedded in the grooves and a paint-smeared thumbprint on the back. He stared at the display, and it hit him. The battery bar showed a full charge. The battery should be dead or, at the very least, well on its way.

  Obviously, Derrick had charged it. Which made sense. ‘Cause that’s how Derrick was. Always thinking two steps ahead. Why go through the work of giving the phone back only to have it be dead? Satisfied, he punched the menu button. Instead of dialing the bank’s number, he scrolled backward through his incoming call history. He was curious about what had been happening in his real life, which didn’t seem to have slowed down. He’d already gotten three calls today, alone.

  Ski-Doo dealer, probably with a question about the Jet Ski he’d ordered. The one he’d have to postpone until money wasn’t an issue anymore. Wally, from bowling. Travis, from pool. Going back further, he saw several numbers he didn’t recognize mixed in with those of friends and other common numbers. The lady who owned the duplex they were remodeling had called the day after the accident. Then the history jumped to the day before the accident with a call from Sam, from pool.

  “Wait a minute,” he mumbled as he scrolled back up. No calls the day of his accident? Stranger things had happened, but not this. He scrolled back down with the same results. “Piece of crap phone.”

  Still baffled, he dialed his bank’s number. Maybe when the cell phone bill came, he’d look at the itemization pages he usually ignored. See if he’d really gone a whole day without getting any calls.

  “Good morning. Fuller Lake Community Bank. How may I help you?”

  Putting aside his phone’s mysterious glitch, he asked for a loan officer. The man “Uh huh’d” through Matt’s explanation of why he couldn’t make his full payments. “So I was hoping I could make only partial payments for a while.”

  “A while?”

  “Five months, maybe.” The number had popped into his head. A nice number. Half of ten.

  “On all of your loans?”

  His stomach tightened as he imagined the guy laughing and asking if Matt were crazy. “If possible.”

  Dead silence filled the air.

  Matt clenched the phone.

  “All right, Mr. Huntz. I’ll put a note on your file approving a five-month extension during which you can make interest-only payments.”

  He made arrangements for the payments to be automatically transferred from his savingsaccount each month and then hung up. Five months. Why’d he say five months? And what the hell was he supposed to do after that if he wasn’t walking again? Beg the bank for another five months? Even if the bank said yes, his savings would be gone by then.

  No. He couldn’t think that way. He’d told Crystal things would work out, and they would. Somehow.

  Five months. The same amount of time it’d take for disability to kick in. His eyes tracked over to the nightstand where the disability benefits form lay amidst the rehab center brochures.

  There had to be another way.

  Like what? Sell the house before the bank could foreclose on it?

  Shit.

  Hating himself for what he was about to do, he grabbed on to the arm of the chair and stretched toward the nightstand. He worked the form closer with his fingertips. Rehab center brochures tumbled off the nightstand as he snagged the form. The brochure for Milwaukee Spine Care Center landed on top.

  He let his gaze linger for a moment and then sighed. Going to Milwaukee just wasn’t in the cards. Turning his attention to the disability benefits form, he told himself this was a show of responsibility. Doing the right thing. Making a pact with the devil was what it felt like. Providing for Crystal, he reminded himself. That’s what this was all about. It had nothing to do with admitting he might not be able to work. Still, signing his name felt like he was signing a contract agreeing to stay paralyzed.

  Eager to be rid of the form, he dialed the extension for Deborah Stryker’s office. She promised to collect it within the hour.

  “Oh, by the way,” she said just before he could disconnect the call. “I called your insurance company this morning. Just in case you change your mind about staying here for therapy.”

  He felt a smile creep into place. Maybe he could go to Milwaukee after all. A reward for signing the damn form.

  The smile fell. No. Going to Milwaukee wasn’t what he wanted. Still, he held his breath while he waited for her to continue.

  “Your insurance won’t pay the full benefits for a specialty rehab center.”

  He released the breath but with a sense of loss. Funny how he could feel disappointed and relieved at the same time. At least now he wouldn’t have to second-guess his decision.

  “However,” Deborah continued, “your insurance will allow admittance to a specialty center and the benefits are only fifteen percent less than what they’ll pay if you stay here.”

  Shit. Nothing like dangling a brand new laser level in front of a gadget junkie who’d sworn off buying more tools. He had to force out the words. “I already made my decision. I’m staying here.”

  “It’s a good decision. Everyone on the therapy staff here is a highly qualified professional.”

  He thought of Cheerleader Abby and found Deborah’s statement hard to swallow. “Where’d you have your therapy?”

  “At a general hospital in Madison. My care was more than adequate. The problem was, I wasn’t willing to work at it and the therapists were too busy to force me to see how badly I was screwing up my life.” She paused, as if to give the words time to sink in. “It took me a long time before I was able to care for myself. At the time, it didn’t matter to me. After all, I was going to be one of the few who recovered.”

  “You say that like there’s no hope at all.
”

  “No, I say it like it’s wrong to ignore the fact that your condition might be forever. I also called Milwaukee Spine Care Center.”

  “And?”

  “They have an open bed.”

  Those words stuck with him long after he’d hung up.

  They have an open bed.

  For you.

  “Dangle that damn laser level some more, why don’t you?” Despite what he wanted, he’d made his decision and it was the right one. Staying here was best.

  §

  As if to prove Matt’s decision to stay had been the right one, his afternoon was filled with visits from friends who wouldn’t have gone all the way to Milwaukee. When he saw Crystal walk in with his parents that night, any final doubts were washed away. If he were in Milwaukee, he’d be alone tonight. No Mom. No Dad.

  No Crystal.

  Snug in his bed, Matt put out his arm, willing Crystal to fill the open space. She set a plastic shopping bag on the bed next to him and then leaned over. Her kiss on his cheek was quick, reminding him of his mother’s kisses. All too soon, she was standing beside him instead of being in his arms where he wanted her. She brushed her finger across his cheek. “Too busy to shave today, huh?”

  He rubbed the bristle. “I kind of like it.”

  “This is just a passing phase, right?”

  He’d been shaving daily since he was sixteen. With a zillion other things to occupy his time since he’d been in the hospital, he hadn’t bothered. He kind of liked having one less thing to do. Besides, the beard was coming in nicely. Seemed like a shame to get rid of it. He shrugged.

  Crystal sighed and shook her head. Apparently, she didn’t feel the same way. But she didn’t push the matter. Instead, she asked, “Any new developments today?” Her eyebrows were slightly arched, expectant.

  New developments. Like, had he moved his toes? Taken a step? Anything positive in the way of a recovery. He wished they were back on the topic of his beard. But they weren’t. He couldn’t make himself say no, that there’d been no recovery, so he settled on distraction. “Yeah.”