The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Yeah, that would be cool. It’s fucking boring staring at the ceiling all day.”

  “Oh! I could bring some books! What sort of things do you like?”

  Kes closed his eyes.

  “You know what, TC,” I said, “we’ve got loads of books, so some DVDs would be good.”

  “Oh sure! Do you like action movies? Of course you do—all guys do. I’ll get a bunch.”

  Then she glanced at her wrist watch. “I should go. My driver’s waiting.”

  She stood up and took a step closer to Kes.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Kestrel. You didn’t have to and I wouldn’t have blamed you for hating me. I mean, God! There’s only five months between our birthdays!” She shook her head. “Dad said that the doctor he’s got is the best there is and that you’re going to get better. I don’t know if you believe in God or anything, but I’ll pray for you.” Then she gave me a cheeky grin. “My girlfriends are going to go nuts when they find out my brother is cute. Hey, is Falcon cute, too?”

  “Christ! Don’t ask me that!” Kes protested, looking disgusted.

  I laughed. “Yeah, Falcon is cute, too. But he’s engaged, so he’s kind of off limits.”

  “Hmm, and I think Kestrel is, as well,” she smiled.

  Then she leaned down and kissed Kes lightly on the cheek. I held out my hand for her to shake again, but she took me by surprise when she pulled me into a tight hug.

  “I’m sorry that we had to meet like this,” she said as she walked to the door. “But I’m not sorry that we met.”

  I listened to her quiet footsteps for a moment as they retreated along the corridor.

  “She seems nice,” I ventured.

  Kes frowned slightly. “Yeah, she’s okay. Not how I thought she’d be.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know—a spoiled princess, maybe? I didn’t expect to ever meet her; I thought she wouldn’t want anything to do with me or Con.”

  “And what about the Sen— what about your father?”

  Kes sighed. “I still think he’s a bastard cocksucking asshole for the way he treated Mom.”

  I crawled onto his bed tiredly, ignoring all the recent times that Kes had pushed me away, and rested with my head pillowed on his chest. After a short hesitation, Kes wrapped his arms around me. I began to relax for the first time in days.

  His fingers stroked lightly across my back, then tangled in my hair.

  I pressed a kiss to his silky skin, soothed by the strong, steady beat of his heart.

  “I don’t know about you,” I yawned, “but I could do without any more surprises.”

  I felt a soft rumble as Kes laughed quietly.

  “What’s so funny?” I mumbled, half asleep.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “What?” I said, prodding his chest. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ve got a boner.”

  My eyes blinked open. “You’ve got a what?”

  “Boner. Stiffy. Chubby. Hard on. Dick like iron.”

  “What?!” I said, sitting up quickly. “That’s not supposed to happen! They only took the catheter out yesterday. The doctor said that your body was in shock and because of the bone pressing into your spinal cord, you wouldn’t . . .”

  Kes’s face split in a wide grin.

  “You’re teasing me!” I accused.

  “Nope. Take a look if you don’t believe me.”

  Cautiously, I lifted Kes’s sheet, only to be met with a huge bulge in his boxers.

  “Oh wow!” I looked back at him, so happy to see his eyes dancing with mischief.

  “You gonna help me out with that, Aimee?”

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to.”

  Kes frowned. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Well, what if the, um, movement does some damage? I think we should leave it alone.”

  Kes grimaced. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No!” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere near that until I know it’s safe.”

  Kes bitched and grumbled, but I was adamant. For half-an-hour, I willed the damn thing to deflate, but it stayed there stubbornly, waving at me, until a nurse arrived to kick me out as visiting hours were over.

  “Maybe she’ll help me out,” Kes whispered.

  I gave him a death stare, but he just grinned at me and then he winked.

  There he was—my Kes was back.

  God knows how I managed to drive to the cabin that night without crashing. I was almost sleepwalking by the time I opened the front door.

  The guys were slumped at the kitchen table over a pile of pizza boxes, and there was a deck of cards on the table. Ollo was sitting by the fireplace, throwing chopped pieces of apple to Bo.

  As soon as he saw me, the little monkey shrieked and chattered happily, and then climbed up my pant leg to wrap his arms around my neck and snuggle into my hair.

  “Man, that little dude has it made,” said Tucker. “If I tried to do that, you’d smack the shit out of me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Tucker,” I smiled.

  “No?” he said, looking wary.

  “No, I’d knee you in the balls, punch you in the stomach and then smack the shit out of you.”

  “Huh,” he said. “Good to know.”

  “How’s the boss?” Zef asked.

  “Bored. Fed up. Doing okay. His . . . sister visited today.”

  There was a shocked silence.

  “Wow,” said Zach at last.

  “Yes, it was pretty emotional. Kes is exhausted. And it’s always so busy there—he never gets any proper rest. And now with all of the paparazzi, the place is a zoo.”

  “We were talking about that,” Zach said. “The hospital isn’t treating Kes. I mean, they’re not giving him medicine or anything. I was thinking, couldn’t he be here, in his own home?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Zach. He’s got a special bed and mattress so he doesn’t get pressure sores from lying on his back the whole time, and nurses still have to come in and turn him every two hours.”

  Zef cursed and looked like he wanted to punch something.

  Tears pricked my eyes and I gave a weak smile. I understood his frustration; I felt so tired and defeated, but all I could think of was that we had to keep going.

  I was too tired even to eat. The guys continued their half-hearted game of poker (not strip poker this time, thank goodness), so I stumbled upstairs to collapse on my bed. Bo came with me, squirming until he found a comfortable spot curled up against my back.

  “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, “because Kes is going to boot your furry little butt the hell out when he comes home.”

  Bo chattered and chirruped away, and I felt his tiny hands wind into my t-shirt.

  “Schemer,” I grumbled, then I was asleep.

  The next day, I was relieved when Zach offered to drive me to the hospital.

  “You need to take a break, Aimee,” he said cautiously.

  “God, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” I yawned. “All I do is sit around all day.”

  He sighed. “It’s emotionally stressful. We’re all the same. Ollo completely scammed us last night. I didn’t even notice he was counting cards until he’d taken two hundred bucks off of each of us.”

  “I wish he’d come to the hospital and play a few games of poker with Kes. Why won’t he?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” Zach said. “He just hates being where non-carnies hang out.”

  “Jeez, a hospital is hardly ‘hanging out,’” I complained.

  “Yeah, but you know he hates being stared at. The carnival is his home. Anywhere else . . . he doesn’t do so well.”

  “Like Kes,” I said sadly.

  “Yeah, like Kes.”

  When we arrived at the hospital, a team of four nurses were log-rolling Kes to one side, something he had to go through every two hours, day and night, as a way of relieving pressure on h
is back, despite the special mattress they’d given him.

  “Are they going to have to do that for the next three months?” Zach asked.

  A nurse overheard us.

  “No, in fact Dr. Wrobel said we won’t need to do it past today, certainly not every two hours. We use this during the acute bed rest stage when the injury isn’t stable. During spinal shock, the paralyzed limbs are floppy and we need to control their movement. But Mr. Hawkins is past that stage now.”

  Zach frowned and glanced at me. “Could we care for him at home?”

  The nurse’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. SCI patients require a high calorie and high-protein intake to combat the negative nitrogen balance associated with immobility, as well as bowel management,” we both winced, but she continued talking. “Relieving pressure on the skin in contact with the bed is crucial, although . . .”

  “Although what?” I prompted.

  “If you had a Freedom Bed at your house, that would be a possibility.”

  She saw my confusion.

  “A Freedom Bed is an automated mattress that rolls the patient safely, as well as offering head and leg elevation. But it’s expensive.”

  “How expensive?”

  “About $35,000.”

  I looked at Zach and he nodded at the nurse before she smiled and walked away.

  “What do you think?” I asked him.

  “We could probably do it,” he said, frowning. “He’d have to sell his Beamer. I guess it’s up to Kes.” Then he shook his head. “He’d still need some nursing care—checking his blood pressure, stuff like that? I don’t know if we’d be able to get what he needs in Arcata.”

  “What about from his mom’s place, Safe Haven? They have nursing staff. Maybe they’d be prepared to help.”

  Zach nodded slowly. “I can find out,” and he walked away with his phone already clamped to his ear.

  Kes was finally allowed to rest again and we were alone.

  I sat next to him and he smiled up at me wearily.

  “You look beautiful, baby.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself, Donohue. But maybe you should shave off some of that face fur. I could do it, if you like.”

  “Nah, that’s okay. Maybe later. Or I could grow a beard?”

  I pulled a face. “Scruff I can handle, but I don’t want you looking like you belong in ZZ Top—you’re too pretty for that.”

  “Pretty!” Kes scoffed. “Could you make me sound any fucking less manly?” Then he sighed. “Except for the fact I’m stuck in a fucking bed all day.”

  “Kes,” I rebuked him softly. “That doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

  He closed his eyes. “I know. I’ve gotta suck it up. It could have been worse.”

  I didn’t reply because we both knew that he could have been coming home in a wheelchair permanently. Although that was still a possibility.

  A few minutes later, Dr. Wrobel made his visit. He’d flown in from Minneapolis earlier in the day—probably at huge expense.

  “Well, Mr. Hawkins, this is all progressing very satisfactorily,” he announced.

  “Ya think so, doc?”

  “Yes, indeed. Very satisfactory.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said tentatively.

  “Sounds dangerous,” Kes teased.

  “Shut up, you! I’m talking to Dr. Wrobel.”

  The doctor hid a smile as I continued.

  “Would it be possible to care for Kes at home if we could get one of those special Freedom Beds?”

  I heard Kes’s sharp intake of breath while Dr. Wrobel studied me.

  “It might be possible,” he said at last. “But I’d still have to insist on a qualified nurse to visit daily, particularly in the beginning.”

  “But if we could arrange that?”

  “I see no reason why not,” said Dr. Wrobel. “Patients often do better in their own environments.” Then he looked at Kes. “And we’ll have to start your physical therapy as soon as possible.” He took in our surprised faces. “Yes, to avoid muscle wastage—I have trialed several innovations that will work for you, I believe, Mr. Hawkins. I’m requesting a Physical Therapist consult today.”

  He started to leave the room, but Kes called after him.

  “Hey, doc, what about sex?”

  Dr. Wrobel’s eyebrows shot up so high, I thought he’d lose them in his thick thatch of gray hair.

  “It’s unlikely that you’ll achieve a viable erection at this stage . . . oh! You already have?”

  Kes gave his trademark smirk, the one I hadn’t seen for so long.

  “Got no problems in that department, doc.”

  “Well, that’s good news, but I’m afraid you’ll have to refrain from achieving release.”

  “What?” Kes said, his voice disbelieving.

  “The urge to thrust will be too strong,” Dr. Wrobel said patiently. “And I have to insist that you do not move your pelvis during the next 10 weeks.”

  Kes’s face fell so far, it was almost comical.

  “Jeez, doc, have you got any idea how fucking uncomfortable it is to have a boner for hours and not be able to do anything about it?”

  Kes’s voice was indignant, almost pleading.

  “I have a vague recollection, if memory serves,” Dr. Wrobel said drily.

  I had an urge to giggle, but I managed to stop myself.

  “I can’t even get blown?” Kes asked mournfully.

  My cheeks were scarlet and I promised myself we’d have words about that later.

  “It wouldn’t be wise,” Dr. Wrobel answered, keeping a professional expression on his face, although I was sure a smile was lurking at the corners of his mouth.

  He nodded at both of us and left the room.

  “Lookin’ a bit warm there, baby,” Kes grinned at me.

  “You’ll pay for that, mister,” I threatened. “Maybe I’ll never give you a blowjob again.”

  “Naw, you wouldn’t do that to me,” he said confidently.

  I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “No orgasms for 10 weeks for you; it’s a good thing I can get myself off.”

  Kes groaned. “You’re evil.” Then he opened his eyes. “Can I watch?”

  I winked at him and he groaned again.

  Dr. Wrobel was as good as his word. I’d never known a hospital to be so accommodating, and I wondered how much the silent hand of the Senator was behind it.

  We ordered the eye-wateringly expensive bed which was definitely worth more than the entire cabin, and moved around the furniture in the living area to make room for it. The men who delivered it also took charge of the complicated assembly. They seemed bemused by the presence of Ollo and Bo, and the fact that several of Kes’s carnie friends had asked if they could winter with us.

  All the carnie folk knew what had happened to Kes—I think wintering with us was their way of supporting him.

  The carnies had been working on their new routines outside when the delivery truck had arrived. I suppose you don’t see a professional knife-thrower at work every day, or a contortionist tying herself in knots. I was worried the delivery truck would drive over the cliff when she winked at them and bent so far backwards, that her head popped up between her spread thighs. I’d become so used to the way we lived, that I’d almost forgotten that other people thought we were different.

  I’d become used to living in a community; used to cooking for a crowd; used to finding strange gifts of food or flowers deposited in my kitchen; used to kissing my man who couldn’t move.

  Bo loved the new bed, immediately using it as indoor jungle gym. The delivery men scratched their heads.

  By now, the paparazzi invasion had died down, so Zef and Tucker had been able to give up their informal security jobs.

  In between shifts, Tucker had been laboring hard to make the dirt path from the main road to the cabin as smooth as possible for the ambulance when it came. His easy-going good nature had hardened into something determ
ined and focused. I knew Tucker blamed himself for Kes’s injury, and even though we’d all told him he was wrong, I knew he had to work it through for himself. We all did, in different ways.

  Zef had left for Pasedena and Daniel’s Rose Bowl game, and I’d insisted that Tucker go for a drink with Ollo and some of their friends. I was staying the night again at the hospital with Kes, something else that I doubt would have been allowed without Dr. Wrobel’s considerable influence.

  We saw in the New Year quietly with a kiss, our hopes as silent as our prayers.

  “Some year, huh?” Kes said quietly.

  “We found each other again.”

  Kes pulled me closer into him, and I moved carefully so I didn’t jostle him.

  “Yeah,” he said, and kissed my hair. “That was a good part.”

  The next morning, I searched the hospital for another pair of prism glasses for Kes to use. I sat on his bed next to him, his head against my thigh as we watched Daniel score the winning touchdown in a closely fought game. The camera panned across the spectators, and we saw Zef and Lisanne jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

  “Fucking fantastic,” Kes said wistfully. “I wish we could have been there.”

  “Me, too. But we’ll make other wishes come true.”

  Kes smiled up at me. “Still believe in magic?”

  I snuggled down into his arms and kissed his soft lips. “More than ever.”

  The next day, January 2nd, after only ten days in the hospital, Kes came home.

  I watched nervously, half terrified, clinging to Zach’s arm, as the ambulance bumped and swayed down the long dirt driveway. Tucker had worked wonders with a shovel and four tons of gravel, but it wasn’t an asphalt road.

  Con and Hilde had flown in on New Year’s Day and were driving up from LA with Zef and Mirelle to join us, and I’d planned on Kes having a quiet return home. It didn’t work out like that: by now, we had twenty carnies as well as our small family lined up to welcome him. I couldn’t say no—they were his family, too. At least I’d been able to tell him in advance so it wouldn’t be a complete surprise.

  He shrugged it off when I told him and said he was getting used to staring up at people all of the time. I knew he was just trying to make me feel better.

  The ambulance doors opened and I wanted to run to Kes, but I let the paramedics do their job. Kes waved and called out to a few people. His voice attracted Bo’s attention, and the little guy ran up shrieking. I thought the paramedics were going to drop Kes, and it was only their years of training that made them keep a firm hold as Bo swung himself up to sit on Kes’s chest.