by P. D. Cacek
“No, it’s not…. Love sees the whole picture, not just the pieces.”
“Jee-zus. Come on, let’s get out of here. I have to change.”
“You cold?”
“You kidding? They keep this place like a sauna. I just don’t like being wet once I’m out of the water.”
Jamie pulled himself higher into the chair and strapped himself in place.
“Here, let me….”
Jamie slapped his hands away. Hard. “I got it.”
Ryan stepped back, nodding, smiling, making out like it was a joke, and slid his hands into the pockets of his Dockers. He knew better. He’d gone to the hospital’s caregivers’ clinic and read every piece of literature he’d been given on the subject of ‘living with a disabled loved one’.
Jamie needed to accept his limitations and learn to live with them.
And so did he.
With one final grunt, Jamie snapped the last buckle into place. “There.” His face was redder than it had been during the game and he was breathing hard. Ryan shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
“Yay, team.”
Jamie ignored him as he hauled back on the wheels of his chair to make room at the sling for one of his teammates.
“Yo, Jamie! Got a minute?”
Ryan looked up to see Steve, one of the poolside referees, waving him over.
“Sure, be right there!”
Jamie made a hard left, the wheels of his chair kicking up rooster tails through the deeper puddles surrounding the pool, while Ryan followed more slowly, worried about what the chlorine was doing to his Birkenstocks.
Some things changed, some things didn’t. Jamie was getting better, but he was about the same…and there was no therapy or medication for that.
Jamie and Steve, who was also a physiotherapist, were laughing when Ryan joined them and offered his hand to the referee. “Great game.”
“It was. Jamie’s a real shark in the water,” the man said, “so I can only imagine what kind of animal he’ll be on dry land.”
“What?”
Jamie laughed. “Steve-O’s putting together a wheelchair basketball team and wants me to be the captain.”
“I thought you didn’t like basketball.”
Both men looked at Ryan with disdain.
“Watching basketball,” Jamie clarified, “isn’t the same as playing basketball.”
To which Steve-O, the refereeing physiotherapist, added a resounding, “Right. But I’m not going to lie to you, Jamie, it’s a pretty rough game.”
“Hey, some days just getting up is pretty rough.”
Ryan looked down at his feet. He was standing in a puddle.
“I hear you, but I have to say all of us have been pretty impressed by the progress you’ve made in the last few weeks.”
Ryan nodded even though neither man noticed.
“I’ve already talked to your doctors about it.” Steve paused, dangling the bait. “And they all gave you the green light, if you’re willing.”
Jamie’s smile was blinding. “Sounds great.”
Steve shifted his gaze to Ryan. “I’ve never seen a more natural competitor.”
“You should see him at Trivial Pursuit.”
Steve smiled politely then turned his attention back to Jamie in such a way that Ryan wondered if the man was gay and making a move.
“I’m scheduling the first practice for tomorrow afternoon,” Steve said. “You going to be available?”
“He might not even be up by tomorrow afternoon,” Ryan answered before Jamie could. “Depends on how much he drinks tonight.”
Steve-O frowned.
“It’s nothing, Steve,” Jamie said quickly. “Ryan just put together a little thing, sort of a party.”
“It’s just a little get together in the cafeteria’s banquet room,” Ryan explained. “Rehab’s letting us use one of the Bar-B-Ques out on the dining patio and there’ll be nothing stronger than beer and wine…and a lot of soft drinks, of course. I know Jamie’s on medication so I was only joking about him drinking. Really. We’re just going to hang out with some friends and shoot the shit. I already cleared it with his primary and….”
When Ryan realized he was rambling, he shut his mouth so quickly his back teeth clinked.
“Sounds like fun,” Steve said with as much forced enthusiasm as Ryan had ever encountered. “Maybe I’ll stop by.”
Ryan just smiled.
“Great. Going to change now,” Jamie said, already pulling his chair away.
Ryan took up his usual position next to Jamie’s chair as they headed for the exit.
“You didn’t overdo it, did you?”
“What – the party? No.”
Which was the absolute truth.
There were only six couples and dinner was simplicity itself: hot dogs, hamburgers and vegetable kabobs grilling on a top-of-the-line gas Bar-B-Que; bowls of chips and pre-packaged salads; boxed wine, lite beer and either bottled water, soda or lemonade for those who had lost the coin toss for designated driver. The hospital had supplied the paper plates, plastic cups, napkins and several large, pre-lined garbage cans for discards. It was decidedly not up to one of their typical parties, but it was nice and everyone, including the guest of honor, seemed happy.
Which, considering how fatalistic he’d been only a month before, was better than Ryan could have wished for.
Lifting a plastic cup, Ryan tapped a plastic knife against it to get everyone’s attention.
“Yes, I know. I wanted crystal and silver, but didn’t feel like giving them a kidney as a deposit.” He waited for the laughter to die down. “Now, if everyone will please go inside and take a seat…the educational portion of today’s program will begin.”
There was a smattering of expected groans, questions as to what the hell was going on and more laughter as the group began filing back inside. Jamie brought up the rear, pumping away, a half-empty plate balanced on his legs, a cup gripped firmly between his teeth.
“Here, let me get that for—”
Ryan reached for the cup but Jamie jerked his head back and managed to slop lemonade down the front of the yellow-and-blue Hawaiian shirt he’d put on for the party.
“Sorry.”
Jamie took the cup from between his teeth and handed it to Ryan. “What the hell’s going on, Ry?”
“Enter, O Beloved One, and the answer shall be revealed.”
Jamie kept whatever comment he might have had to himself and rolled inside. Ryan downed what lemonade remained in the cup, said a small prayer and followed.
As per arrangements he’d made with the cafeteria staff, the tables and chairs had been set up facing the room’s pull-down movie screen, fanning out on either side of the laptop and stand he’d brought from home. Crossing the room, Ryan opened the laptop.
“Sit,” he told everyone as he turned the computer on. “The show is about to begin. With…home movies.”
Everyone groaned.
“Hush,” Ryan ordered. “Come on, people, sit down and be quiet.”
Paper plates and plastic cups were put on tables and the folding chairs creaked as their friends took their seats. Jamie rolled up to him. “What’s going on, Ry?”
“You’ll see. Are we ready?”
Mutters and mumbles answered that they were.
Jamie took the plate of food off his lap and put it on the table next to him, then began blotting the lemonade off his shirt with a napkin.
“Please try to curb your enthusiasm, sir.”
Jamie continued dabbing.
“Okay, will someone turn off the lights, please, and close the blinds?”
Ryan waited until the room got as dark as it was going to get and began the PowerPoint presentation of ‘Jamie’s New Backyard Playground’.
The
bulk of the transformation had been getting the back lawn removed and paved over, and Ryan had captured every moment of that in pictures.
There were a number of gasps, none louder than Jamie’s.
“Whadda think, J-man?” Ryan asked, giving each shot a three to four second pause. “See, I had them put in raised flower beds. Or we can plant veggies. And I made sure you can reach them from your chair.”
When Jamie didn’t answer, Ryan looked down and saw his eyes sparkle in the light reflecting off the screen. Ryan didn’t think he’d be that happy and for a moment he couldn’t speak.
“Pretty sweet, don’t you think?”
Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then you’ll really love this.” Ryan scanned ahead a dozen shots and stopped. He’d taken the picture from the back patio, also fully accessible now, using a wide angle to show as many pieces of the strength-training equipment as Ryan’s savings could afford.
Jamie licked his lips, overwhelmed, Ryan thought as he straightened. Maybe he had gone a bit overboard, but so what? Now Jamie could keep up with his physical therapy in the comfort of his own home.
“So,” he asked the room as he turned off the computer, “what does everyone think?”
Ryan waited for the applause and hoots to subside and looked down. Jamie was quiet, staring at the damp napkin in his hands.
“Jamie?”
“It’s…” Jamie took a ragged breath, “…beyond words. You really shouldn’t have done it, Ry, I don’t….” He cleared his throat and looked up. “So who’s going to get me a drink…and I mean a real drink…to celebrate?”
“J-man,” Ryan said, “your meds, remember?”
“How could I forget,” he said, winking and giving Ryan a smile that was high, wide and handsome, the way it used to be. “But one drink won’t hurt me. Ah, Oren m’man, you are truly a lifesaver. Gimme!”
Jamie took the filled-to-near-overflowing cup from their friend’s hand and finished half of it in five massive gulps.
Coming up for air, he belched and waved at the standing ovation it got.
“Thank you, thank you, you’re all too kind.” He took another two swallows, mere sips compared to his first go-round, and looked up. “Ry, can I talk to you for a minute outside?”
“Sure. Want me to hold—”
Jamie finished the wine as Ryan reached for the cup.
“No need,” he said and tossed the empty to the floor before rolling out onto the patio.
“I think he’s just a bit overwhelmed,” Oren said as he picked up the cup. “You two talk and I’ll keep everyone inside.”
“Thanks.” Ryan gave the group a thumbs-up.
Jamie had grabbed a beer from one of the ice chests and twisted off the cap.
“Hey, we promised Steve-O you wouldn’t drink.”
“You promised,” Jamie reminded him and took a long pull. “That must have cost a fortune.”
“Only a little one.”
Jamie looked at him.
“Okay, so maybe it was a middle-sized fortune. But it’s okay. You need it and—”
“Yeah, I need it.” Jamie upended the bottle and finished it. He belched again, but this time no one applauded. “Don’t you understand anything?”
“Apparently not, so why don’t you tell me.”
Jamie lifted the bottle to his lips and seemed surprised that it was empty. Shaking his head, he tossed the empty into the cooler and pulled out a fresh one. Ryan took it forcibly from him, put it back in the cooler and slammed the lid.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan, you’re not my mother, stop treating me like a child!”
“Then stop acting like one.”
Jamie glared up at him, but only for a minute. “Sorry. I’m…. It was just a little reality slap I wasn’t expecting…but the backyard’s great, Ry, all the equipment and everything. Really great.”
“Look, Jamie, I just thought, you know…you always liked to exercise and I thought…. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s great, really. I’m just….” He tried to laugh but it didn’t quite work. “Whoa… okay, guess we know why you’re not supposed to mix booze and pills, huh?”
“Guess so. Look, honey, once you get home and things get back to normal, it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, when I get home.” Jamie looked up at him and puffed out his cheeks.
When the silence grew too long, Ryan jerked his head toward the banquet room. “How about we get back to the party?”
“In a minute. I want to run up to my room and change.” He pulled the front of his shirt away from his body. “Getting a little sticky in here.”
“Gotcha,” Ryan said and ruffled Jamie’s hair before heading back to the party. “We’ll be waiting.”
“Ry?” Ryan turned. “Thanks…for everything.”
Ryan blew him a kiss and walked away as Jamie wheeled his chair toward the rehabilitation building.
“Aren’t you missing something?” Jiro asked as Ryan entered. “Where’s our guest of honor?”
“He wanted to change.” Stepping to one side, Ryan waved his arms over his head. “Everybody ready for dessert? I have it on good authority that Oren and Jiro made one of their famous ice-box lemon cakes.”
“With Rachel-Sachiko’s help,” Jiro said to which Oren added, “She was our inspiration.”
“Awwww.”
Ryan smiled as he walked to the industrial-sized coffee urn the staff had set up for the party and began filling Styrofoam cups. The party was winding down and if Jamie didn’t get his butt back soon he’d miss saying goodbye to everyone.
Not that anyone was going to leave without seeing him. While he manned the urn, their friends waited with cake plates and coffee cups, or both, and told him how great they thought the new backyard was and how lucky Jamie was to have someone who loved him like that.
Ryan continued to smile and nod and say he was the lucky one.
Which seemed to be the right answer.
“Ry?” Jiro said, handing him his cup for a refill. “We’re going to have to go soon. Our babysitter has an evening class at Cal State Long Beach tonight.”
“Oh, sure.” Ryan took the cup and began filling it. “Let me go get—”
The room’s entrance door slammed open and everyone in the room, including Ryan, jumped.
“Ryan!”
Steve, Jamie’s physiotherapist referee, was running toward him soaking wet, his clothes plastered to the lines of his body. It would have been almost erotic, if it hadn’t been for the look on his face.
“Steve, what’s wr—”
“It’s Jamie!”
Ryan dropped Jiro’s coffee down his leg but never felt it as he took off running, following the man out into the hall and down two corridors. He didn’t even realize their friends had followed until he heard Jiro’s scream echo off the tiled walls.
“NO!”
Jamie was lying at the edge of the pool, pale and still and limp, while an equally wet resident pumped his chest. Ryan could see the watery outline of Jamie’s wheelchair at the bottom of the deep end.
“I don’t know how long he was under,” Steve-O shouted. “We stopped by to check the chlorine levels for the evening’s session and found him. I hit the panic button then we jumped in to get him. The crash cart should be here any minute. Tom?”
The resident breathing into Jamie’s mouth sat up and shook his head.
“Move!” Ryan said and shook off Steve’s hand when he tried to hold him back. “I know what to do,” he told the other man, “Move.”
The other man, Tom, looked at Steve then got to his feet and stepped back.
“Ryan.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan said, “I know how to do this.”
He did, they covered CPR in the caregivers’ clinic he took. Kneeling, he wrapped his
right hand over his left and pumped Jamie’s chest five times then stopped, tipped Jamie’s head back and breathed into his lungs.
Jamie’s lips were cold.
Ryan sat up and started again.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Breathe. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Breathe. “One. Two—”
“Ryan.”
“Four.”
Breathe.
One. Two.
“Ryan.”
Four. Breathe.
“Ryan, stop it.”
One. Two. Three.
“Ryan.” Jiro touched his shoulder. “You promised, Ryan. You promised him.”
Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four.
“They’re here. Ryan, the crash cart’s here.” Steve grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. “You have to let them work on him.”
Ryan felt lightheaded and nauseous as two men in white, one pushing a gurney, the other carrying a portable defibrillator, muscled him aside and kneeled next to Jamie.
“Ryan, you have to stop them.”
Blinking, Ryan felt a hand turn him around and then Jiro was standing in front of him. “What?”
“You have to stop them, Ryan,” his friend said. “This isn’t what he wanted.”
“No, it was an accident.” It had to be an accident. Jamie wouldn’t have done this on purpose. He was getting better. “He’ll make it.”
“You promised him, remember? You promised to let him go.”
“It was an accident.”
“Ryan, he’ll hate you.”
“If he hates me it means he’s alive.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan.” Jiro pushed Ryan back. “Stop, he’s DNR.”
Ryan saw the two men kneeling next to Jamie stop and look up. One of the men was holding the charged paddles just above Jamie’s chest.
“He’s DNR?”
“Yes.” Jiro’s hand felt very warm against his arm. “You made him a promise.”
“I can’t.”
“You promised him. Let him go, Ryan.”
Ryan took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Let him go, Ryan.”
JAMES ALAN COOPER, Jr.
August 5, 1988 – August 24, 2017