by T. L. Haddix
Eli could tell it took every bit of willpower his father had to force his arms to let go, but he did.
“For how long?” Eli asked once he was on his own two feet again.
“Until you graduate next spring.”
“Dad, that’s almost a year!” he protested, horrified. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months. I’ll be an adult.”
“That’s debatable. Tough shit.”
Eli shook his head. The idea of spending his senior year under such restrictions… “I won’t do it. I can’t do it.”
“Then give me your keys and get out. You can pack two outfits. No laptop, no cell phone, nothing else. I’ll give you a paper bag to put the clothes in and a hundred dollars cash.” John reached for his wallet.
“You can’t do that! I can’t… where would I live?”
John shrugged. “That’s your problem. You’re Mr. Know-It-All. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He pulled the cash out and dropped it at Eli’s feet.
Swallowing down his fear, he looked at his mother. “Mom?”
She crossed her arms. “I agree with your father. You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you live by our rules. But those are the conditions. We love you, Eli, so much, but you’ve simply pushed us too far. It’s starting to effect Molly. I won’t let you do that. She’s only eleven, and she deserves better.”
Unspoken was her accusation that he’d already destroyed the family’s relationship with Noah, who’d moved out two years earlier after he and Eli had fought. He’d gone to Europe as soon as he’d graduated high school, and though they’d spoken, John and Zanny hadn’t seen him since.
“What’s it going to be?” John asked.
Eli knew he didn’t have a choice unless he really wanted to hose up his future. There’d been a lot of talk lately about him getting a full-ride scholarship to a big-name university for baseball and possibly the Major Leagues after that. He might be young, but he wasn’t completely stupid.
“I’ll stay. But I have to talk to Erica first. And she’s probably going to need a ride home. Her car broke down.”
“We’ll call her a cab,” John said. “You can talk to her but don’t leave the street in front of the house.”
Knowing they’d be watching, he nodded.
John stood back so he could pass, and when Eli drew alongside his mother, he paused, tentatively lifting his gaze. Zanny turned away from him, though, and he kept walking.
Erica had been furious when he’d explained the situation, but there was nothing she could do or say to change Eli’s mind. He loved her and he wanted to marry her, but he also knew they’d be doomed before they even started if he didn’t give in to his parents’ demands.
“I’m sorry,” he’d told her. “I’ll see you at school. I love you.” He didn’t ask her to wait. He was afraid of what her answer would be.
When she’d not broken up with him, he’d felt incredibly lucky. A year later, with the sports scholarship off the table thanks to an ankle injury, he’d graduated high school and joined the Army. He hadn’t even told his parents he was doing it until the papers were signed, and he’d presented them with that fact as well as a daughter-in-law in Erica. They’d eloped, getting married at the courthouse.
Two weeks later, a scant week before he was due to ship out to Basic Training, Zanny had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Eli had hated himself at that moment. He felt he’d caused the cancer somehow with all the stress he’d laid on her. The tension in the household had been hard to endure over the past year, and it had worn on all of them.
Noah had come home, Eli’d gone overseas, and Erica had gone to North Carolina, where Eli was deployed from, to live in military housing. Thank God, Zanny had made a complete recovery, and things between them had returned to something resembling normal.
Almost as soon as he’d married Erica, Eli had known it was a mistake. He tried to make it work, but he’d quickly learned that one person couldn’t carry the weight of a relationship on their own. They’d split up for a while, but after a year or so, somehow they’d ended up back together.
That reconciliation had been as big a mistake as their initial vows. Before Eli could figure out what to do, though, Erica was gone, killed in a car wreck. That he’d been on his way home from his assignment overseas to consult an attorney at the time was an irony that hadn’t escaped his notice.
It wasn’t until after Erica died that his relationship with his parents had really started to heal. With her gone, he was able to see the role she’d played in so many of the family’s interactions. He saw that all the warnings his parents and grandparents had given him about Erica hadn’t been because they didn’t like her, but were in fact because they saw her for what she was—a manipulative, thrill-seeking, shallow user who only cared about herself.
He only wished he’d seen it sooner. Preferably before he’d destroyed relationships he didn’t to this day know how to repair.
The nurse came in then to check on him, shaking him out of his reverie.
“You’re awake,” she said softly. “Feeling okay?”
He nodded. “Thinking about some things.”
After checking his vitals, she helped him get to the restroom and back. That was an exercise that tested his limits of humility, but it was worlds better than using a bedpan.
Zanny was stirring when they came back in the room. “Hey, sweetie. You okay?”
“Yeah. You can go back to sleep, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He thanked the nurse, who left after reminding him to ring the bell if he needed anything.
She stretched. “I’m wide awake. My internal clock is all upside down. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
“You look sad.”
He shrugged as she perched on the edge of the bed and covered him with the blanket. “I was thinking about some things. Mom, I’m sorry.”
Zanny touched his face. “Sorry about what?”
“About how I was when I was a teenager. The things I did, said. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her smile was soft. “Oh, my sweet baby boy, I’ve always known that.”
“How?”
“A mother just does.” She took his hand, clasping it between hers. “I forgave you a long time ago for all that.”
Eli bit down on the inside of his cheek. “For all of it?”
“Of course. I’d also know if you didn’t regret your behavior. I’d still love you, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yes. Now, let’s see if you can get some sleep.” She stood and pulled the covers up, tucking him in carefully.
“What about you?” he asked around a yawn.
“I’ll lie back down and rest. Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, Mom.”
He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have the family he did, but he thanked God they were his. Having spent the last few years away from them in an estrangement of his own making, he was surprised by the thought that crossed his mind as he drifted off, that maybe he’d had to lose part of his body to gain his real self back.
Chapter Five
Throughout the first weeks of his recovery, Eli felt like he was being slapped with one emotional hurdle after another, to say nothing of the physical struggles he was encountering. For someone who’d been very active, very athletic, his entire life, dealing with his newfound mobility challenges was turning out to be a harsh reality.
The decision of what to do with his severed foot was something that felt surreal, like an excerpt from a horror movie. The social worker he’d been assigned had explained that he had options, including donating the foot for the purpose of letting it be used to provide ligaments and tendons for grafts for soldiers needing reconstruction. Or Eli could let the facility handle the disposal, mos
t likely incineration.
The third option was to have the foot shipped stateside, to a funeral home in Hazard, where he’d grown up and where his family still lived, so it could be buried in the family cemetery.
The whole process felt macabre.
“It’s one thing to have your appendix out or tonsils, but this is my foot,” he told his father after the advocate had gone. “I don’t know what to do, what to think.”
John, sitting in a chair beside the recliner Eli was in, laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “Your mom went through similar emotions with the mastectomy. What do you want to do?”
Eli shrugged. “I know the noblest thing would be to donate it.”
“But?”
“It’s my foot. I liked my foot. I was rather attached to it,” he said sardonically. “Do you think I’d be crazy to send it home?”
John shook his head, his smile sympathetic. “No. Not in the least. Like I said, your mom felt similarly when she had surgery. You should talk to her.”
Eli quirked an eyebrow. “First, I don’t want to bother her. Second, we’d be discussing her…” He held his hands out in front of his chest, feeling his face heat to nuclear red. “No offense, but that’s fifteen degrees of too awkward to contemplate.”
His father was rubbing his face, trying to disguise his amusement. “I can understand that. Still, without getting into specifics, if you need to talk to someone who’s been through a loss not unlike what you’re going through now, keep her in mind. And you wouldn’t be bothering her. You know better than that, Eli Thomas.” He glanced at Eli, shaking his head slightly.
Something about the moment, perhaps the stress of everything that had happened, caught Eli’s funny bone. He snickered, then burst into laughter. “Oh, God. It isn’t funny, Dad. But it kind of is. What am I supposed to do? Plan a funeral for my foot? An Irish wake? Do we buy it a tombstone?”
Within a minute, he and John were simultaneously laughing and crying. Every time their amusement would die down he would look at his father or John would look at him, and they’d be laughing again.
“This is not funny,” John finally gasped, hiding his face. “We shouldn’t be laughing.”
“Better that than sobbing.” Eli grabbed a handful of tissues, splitting them with John. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin making arrangements.”
“I’m sure your social worker could help with that. If you want a burial, we’ll make sure it happens. Say the word.”
Eli nodded. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
By the time he was due to be sent stateside a week later, the foot was waiting in a funeral home in Hazard. After a brief discussion and with the family’s blessing, Eli had decided to have the mortuary hold it until he was able to return Stateside. They’d have a private ceremony then with the burial.
Zanny, Noah, and Molly had flown home the night before Eli was transferred to Walter Reed, while John was going to be allowed to fly to Maryland on the medical transport with him. Noah and Molly would be returning to Kentucky, and his parents would be staying in Maryland.
With any luck, he’d be able to leave Walter Reed sooner than later and then head to rehab. Part of being John Campbell’s son and Owen Campbell’s grandson meant he healed faster than most people. Though Eli didn’t have the same kind of ability as Noah or as his grandfather, who was a shape shifter, he had a gift for seeing patterns that he’d gotten from John and just a little touch of something extra in his genes. In any event, he was hoping almost desperately that he’d have an accelerated recovery.
Once they’d started getting him back on his feet with crutches at Landstuhl, he’d had several discussions with his doctors about what to expect.
“You’re young, you’re in excellent physical health, injuries notwithstanding. That said, I have my doubts that you’ll be able to return to your unit. You’re looking at about a twelve-month recovery here, and though prosthetics have come a long way, the job you did was very physical, wasn’t it? That decision will ultimately be made by the Medical Evaluation Board once you’re discharged to rehab.”
“It was a very physical job, yes. What if I don’t want to go back?”
“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with your social worker once you get to Walter Reed. I don’t think there will be a problem for you to get a separation authorized, but the last word isn’t up to me. You don’t have to make the decision now.”
But he thought he already had. In the last few days, he’d started getting to know his family again. His relationship with Noah was still strained, however, and Eli was no longer willing to let that be the status quo. Though they’d talked some during the last few days, it hadn’t been enough. Their discussions had mostly remained superficial. He felt hopeful, though, since a lot of the deeper tension between them felt like it was gone.
So when a couple of days into his stay at Walter Reed the time to make the decision came, he signed the papers that would initiate the process for a separation, saying good-bye to his Army career with some regret but also with the determination that leaving was the right decision.
It would take a few weeks for the paperwork to come through, but his social worker and doctors didn’t see any issues with him being approved. Much like his doctor in Germany had speculated, the amputation meant he’d likely be found unable to return to the position he’d had. He’d receive a decent chunk of separation pay, enough that he’d be able to take the time he needed to figure things out.
He wasn’t sure what he’d end up doing with his life, but first and foremost was fixing what was broken with his family, and in order to do that, he had to be home.
Chapter Six
Ten days after he returned to the United States, Eli found himself being transferred once again, this time to the VA hospital in Lexington, Kentucky. He’d finish his inpatient rehab there, then be discharged home to Hazard, where he’d face intensive outpatient rehabilitation including occupational and physical therapy.
Learning how to care for the wound, for the remaining limb he had, was so foreign he couldn’t express it in words. It was as though the body he’d lived with his entire life was suddenly alien. He’d had some phantom pain and sensations, though not much thus far, and he counted that as a blessing.
Conversely, he’d become intimately acquainted with the proper use of elastic bandages and shrinking socks and the like over the last several days since arriving in Lexington, and he was forcing himself to be consistent with the massages and exercises that were essential to his healing even as he was firmly in denial as it pertained to the loss of the foot.
He figured he’d be referred to Psych if he let anyone know he half expected it to grow back. The Campbell genes were strong and unique, but they weren’t that powerful.
Eli wasn’t looking forward to taking his first steps in the prosthesis. His doctors, amazed at his progress with the healing of the wound, had ordered the preliminary artificial limb made. Three days after arriving in Lexington, he met with the prosthetist for his initial fitting. The device itself would take about two weeks to be created, and he’d come back up to the VA from Hazard to receive it.
As far as injuries went, he knew his were on the less-severe side compared to a lot of the men and women in the facility. He’d have to be hurt a lot worse than he was now before he felt he was entitled to the least bit of self-pity.
Still, he knew better than to underestimate the loss he’d endured, both of the foot and of the career he’d tremendously enjoyed. Every night as he lay in bed trying to get to sleep, the sight of the flat sheet past his left calf haunted him. He’d taken to shoving a pillow under the sheet simply to create the illusion of having both feet. It felt slightly pathetic, but it worked.
The problem was, he needed a distraction and badly. There was only so much exercise and therapy he could do, and there w
ere a lot of hours he needed to fill.
He had his phone, which had somehow made the trip from Afghanistan with him, but his laptop, along with the rest of the belongings he’d had on his deployment, were at a facility in Maryland being inventoried and sorted. Anything in his footlocker that belonged to the Army would stay with them, and anything that was his would find its way to him.
He’d learned over the years that things had a way of getting lost during deployment, though, and everything he’d had over there could be replaced. There were a couple of books and a handful of pictures he’d like to get back, but he wasn’t suffering without them. He might have someone hit one of the electronic stores in town and pick him up a new laptop to give himself something to do.
He’d just gotten back to his room Friday afternoon and showered away the sweat from the intense workout the therapist had put him through when a light knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” he called, slipping a clean T-shirt over his head. The movement only hurt a little, his ribs and collarbone having healed as fast as the rest of him.
A familiar blonde stepped inside a second later, concern furrowing her brow.
“Oh, my God. Sophie!” Eli felt a grin spread across his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What are you doing here? Molly posted on your Facebook page yesterday that you’d been injured, and I hopped on the first flight from Houston. Are you okay?” she asked as he got awkwardly to his feet, holding on to the end of the bed for balance, and hugged her.
“I’m fine. A few modifications, as a nurse put it in Germany, but I’m okay,” he assured her, holding her tight. “Oh, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”
She smiled up at him, tears clouding her blue eyes as she touched his cheeks. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m so sorry about the leg.”