by PJ Sharon
I chose my words carefully. “Right now, I think Alex feels responsible for Lee’s death. I don’t know what he knows or remembers about what happened, but I don’t think it was his fault. I’d like to prove that, and give him some peace of mind. If I find out that Lee…went into a dangerous situation knowing he wouldn’t come out alive and that he did it on purpose, I promise I will never tell Mom.” I was good at keeping secrets. I folded my arms across my chest and tilted my head, meeting his eyes with the same look I’d given him when I promised to never do drugs or have unprotected sex, (conversations we both agreed to have only once).
He spoke softly, “Do you think your mother hasn’t wondered the same thing? She is suffering enough without having you dig up dirt on your brother. She needs to believe he died with honor.”
Our gazes locked. “I’m not trying to hurt Mom. I know she couldn’t handle something like that, but I need to know the truth—whatever it is. And so does Alex. It’s not fair for her to blame him.”
He shook his head and rubbed a meaty hand along the back of his thick neck. “Don’t you have any friends? You should be going to the mall, buying shoes, getting manicures—whatever it is seventeen year old girls do in their free time.”
I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head on his barrel-like chest. “I have lots of friends, but you know all that girly stuff has never been my thing.” I looked up into his face and batted my baby blues, giving him the look I knew would melt the last of his resolve. “It’s your fault I’d rather be sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I learned from the best.”
A smirk twitched in the corners of his mouth and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a snug embrace. “All right, I’ll look into it. But don’t say anything about this to your mother and you leave Alex alone about it. He’s got enough to deal with.”
I squeezed him tight. “Thanks Brig. I knew I could count on you.”
Chapter 8
“Who taught you to drive?” Alex gripped the dashboard of the Rabbit.
“Who do you think?” I asked, checking my speed and slowing down a little.
He relaxed and sat back, his face growing solemn as he stared out the window at the passing high school. “Lee, probably; he was a crazy driver.”
I flinched, brushing off the twinge of tightness in my chest. “Actually, it was Brig. He thought I should learn defensive driving techniques. He says ‘a girl should be prepared for anything’,” I said, in my best growling Brig voice.
I glanced over to catch a flash of a grin. My heart did another little dance and I wondered just how far I would go to see that smile every day. I couldn’t even let myself go there. Alex was in no way ready for my emotional neediness. Stick to business.
“It must run in the family, then,” he said. “I just hope you’re a better driver than your brother.”
I ignored the comment, wanting to avoid discussion of my brother’s obvious character flaws. Aside from nearly burning down the high school, Levi had wrecked every vehicle he’d ever owned, from his mini-wheels, to BMX bikes, to motorcycles and cars. The Rabbit had actually been lucky to survive. It had a ton of dings and dents, scars from Levi taking a baseball bat to it in one of his fits of rage. We’d gotten most of the big dents out, but the Rabbit wasn’t pretty. I braked at the corner and turned left onto Main Street, passing the skating rink and the old town hall.
“This isn’t the way to the lake.” I felt his eyes on me, another chill raising the hairs on my arms. I clenched my jaw and prepared myself for an argument.
“I know. Trust me. You are going to love what I have planned. Well…maybe not love it…but you’ll know it’s the best thing for you.”
“That does not sound good. Do you mind cluing me in on the plan?”
“Do you always have to know what’s going to happen next?
“No, but I like to be prepared.” I glanced over, noticing his face had gone pale.
It dawned on me that he was scared. It wouldn’t be easy facing everyone and dealing with the stares and questions. I sympathized with him but if he was going to get better, he might as well climb the hard hill first. “You know you can handle whatever comes your way, don’t you?” I asked, turning into the parking lot of Vic’s Gym and sliding into a space.
Alex let out a groan when he saw where we were. “You’re kidding, right? I already have PT scheduled for tomorrow at the hospital. I thought you were supposed to be giving me a ride home. If I’d known you were going to play a dirty trick like this, I’d have waited for a ride from my mom.”
I let him rant for a minute before I interrupted. “I figured the physical therapist could cover the basics. You know, getting used to the prosthesis, doing the whole straight leg raise routine, gait training and stair climbing. But just think about how much faster you’ll get better if you add a few times a week at the gym where you can work on your whole body.” Before he could argue, I added the challenge, “You do want to get better, don’t you?”
“That’s not the point…”
“I think it is. Either you want to get better, and are willing to do whatever it takes, or you don’t.”
“I feel like crap and this thing is already uncomfortable as hell.” He motioned toward his new leg which was covered by his jeans and sneakers. If I didn’t know his lower right leg was missing, I wouldn’t be able to tell with him sitting here in the car. He stared out the window at the front door as if willing someone to pull down the blinds and hang the closed sign out. “I just don’t think I’m ready…”
I cut him off again. “What I have in mind for today has nothing to do with your leg. Stop making excuses…”
“I’m not….”
We argued for another ten minutes, until finally he gave up. “Enough already! Obviously, since you’re holding me hostage here in the car and you have the keys, I’m not going home until you get your way.” He opened the door and climbed out, reaching for his crutches in the back seat. “Going in can’t possibly be as much torture as sitting out here arguing with you,” he muttered.
I inwardly gloated at my triumph and collected the gym bag out of the back seat that I’d arranged ahead of time with his mom. She was totally behind my plan to whip Alex into shape and I’d cleared it with his PT, getting special instructions about the limits of the temporary prosthesis and what to look for if there were problems. She didn’t want him damaging the new skin, so we needed to check occasionally that there were no pressure sores developing on the stump. There was no room for squeamishness on my part. I took a deep breath and dug in my heels, ready to face whatever happened next. Getting Alex’s cooperation would likely be my biggest challenge.
I had said the word ‘stump’ aloud to myself a hundred times over the last several days while I researched and read everything I could find on prosthetics, below the knee amputees, and rehabilitation. With the right attitude and proper care, Alex could live a fully functional life. If I had to pin him to the ground, he was going to learn to deal with this new situation. No matter what it took, I wouldn’t let him settle for anything less than a full recovery. He had no idea what he was in for and I wasn’t about to tell him up front. I hated to be so sneaky about it, but I knew he’d never cooperate otherwise. Stubborn and Marine were words I knew to be synonymous.
Alex followed a few steps behind me, still mumbling under his breath. The squeak of his sneaker over the end of the prosthetic foot came down on the pavement in an uneven cadence signifying his limp. I took another deep breath and promised myself that when I was done with him, that limp would be a distant memory. The more permanent and high-tech prosthetic limb that would return him to near full function was still being designed for him, and awaiting necessary adjustments based on how well he adapted to the one he had on, but the casted lower leg, titanium post, and rigid ankle joint would have to do for now.
Vic met us at the check-in counter. She acknowledged Alex with a firm handshake and handed him a key on a small chain. “T
his’ll open up locker number twenty-four. You’re welcome to use it whenever you like. As far as I’m concerned you have the run of the facility.”
Alex took the key and looked from me to Vic, obviously aware this had all been pre-arranged. “Thank you, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pay for membership.”
Vic waved him off. “I have special rates for military. No charge considering all you’ve done for your country, Corporal.” There was an awkward silence and then Vic turned her attention to me. “I reserved the meditation room for the next two hours. It’s all yours.”
I thanked her and led Alex to the locker room, handing him the bag his mom had packed with a towel and workout clothes.
“You thought of everything,” he said, a sarcastic grimace reminding me of the boy I’d once tripped and pushed face first into a mud puddle.
I turned my back, hiding the grin that crept across my lips. “I’ll meet you back here in five.”
Fifteen minutes later we sat on meditation pillows facing each other. “Why don’t you take off the prosthesis so you can sit comfortably,” I said, noticing him squirm and stretch his right leg out straight as if it didn’t quite belong to the rest of his body.
He eyed me without humor. “What are you up to, Jordie? I really don’t feel like…”
I cut him off again, a technique I’d learned from my mother, no doubt. I had to hand it to her. She was an expert at cutting down on a lot of unnecessary arguing and complaining. She either interrupted or walked away, the latter skill not being my strong suit. “I told you, this has nothing to do with your leg. Take it off and get comfortable. We’re going to be here for a while.” He didn’t move. I reached over and grabbed his artificial foot and pulled.
“Hey! What are you doing?” He wrapped a tight fist around my wrist, stopping me.
“Are you going to take it off, or do you want me to?” I met his gaze with the coolest expression I could drag to the surface. He glared back. His hand felt like a vise around my wrist, on the verge of too much pressure. I held my ground. “I’ve already seen it, Coop, and there’s nobody here but us.”
After a tense moment, he let out a harsh breath and let go of my wrist, “You’re impossible,” he grumbled. He yanked up the bottom of his sweatpants and removed the leg with exaggerated movements. He let the pant leg dangle below the knee, the vacancy looming between us like an echo, vibrating as if his foot were still there and invisible at the same time.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. His voice sounded tired.
I waited for him to put the prosthetic leg off to one side and assume a modified version of a cross-legged pose. “Because you need me,” I said. “Now close your eyes and breathe.” I closed my eyes and focused on my breath, still sensing him watching me. My heart fluttered and skipped in response.
“I can’t,” he said, frustration seeping into his tone.
“Yes. You can. I find meditation very helpful. Vic says meditation is the path to all wisdom.”
“You are so weird.” He cracked a smile and my heart skipped again.
“Maybe I am,” I said, my lips twitching in an effort to sound serious. “You’re not the first one of my friends to think I’m weird, but meditation does help. Trust me. The only thing holding you back is what’s going on in your head. If you can clear and focus your mind, you can totally overcome any physical, mental or emotional limitations you might be facing. Meditation is the best way I know of to clear the mind…except for beating the crap out of the heavy bag, but I figured we should try this first, considering you’re still recovering.” I crossed my legs into lotus position, rested my hands palms up on my knees, and sat up tall. “C’mon, it can’t hurt to try it.” I took a few cleansing breaths, closing my eyes once more.
A moment of silence filled the room before his voice, hollow and empty, broke through. “How is it, that you don’t blame me for Lee’s death?”
I opened my eyes to see Alex staring at me, a tortured look on his face, his eyes glassy. My heart pounded louder and steadier while I tried to control my emotions. I wanted to cry. But I knew Alex would take it as confirmation that down deep, I did blame him. When the truth was, I didn’t. I needed him to know that truth.
“It wasn’t your fault. I know it, and you know it. And if you don’t know it for certain, you and I are going to find out together. Now, close your eyes and breathe.” I closed my eyes and sucked a deep breath in through my nose, waiting for the pulse in my ears to subside.
“Jordie…I’m sorry…about Lee.”
I kept my eyes closed, willing the air to continue to move through me, my calm in the storm. I felt hot tears behind my eyes but I kept them locked away. “I know,” I said. The calm I reached for deep inside came out in my voice, and I felt Alex relax—sensed his heart open just a crack.
“Jordie.”
I opened one eye. “What now?”
“Thanks for believing in me.”
I smiled and closed my eye. “Just breathe, okay?”
Chapter 9
“Don’t you think you should stick around today and help Brig at the antique shop?” Mom poured her second cup of coffee, her fuzzy slippers, bathrobe, and the newspaper tucked under her arm, signs she would disappear back up to her room for another few hours before starting her Saturday. I had already been for a six mile run and was scarfing down a bowl of cereal before picking up Alex for the gym.
“I told Alex I’d be there by nine.” I slurped the last sip of milk from my bowl.
“You’ve been spending too much time with him, Jordan. This is your summer vacation. What about your friends?”
“Alex is my friend. Besides, nobody’s knocking down my door to hang out. Penny has a lot going on taking care of her mom right now and she’s at skating camp practically every day. All my other friends have summer jobs, are on vacation with their families, or are otherwise as busy as I am, so for now I want to focus on helping Alex.”
I put my dish in the sink, towering over my mother. Standing as close to her as I had the day of the funeral, our shoulders touching, I realized we hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in a room together since that day, let alone had any physical contact. I heard her crying at night and I suspected she heard me too, but it felt like we were worlds apart in our way of dealing with this horrible loss—and neither of us knew how to bridge the distance.
“Don’t forget your obligation to your grandfather. You’re supposed to be helping him.” She stared down into her coffee cup.
“Brig can get along without me for a few hours every day. Why don’t you say what you really mean, Mom? That you don’t want me hanging around with the person you think is responsible for Lee’s death.” I stared out the kitchen window, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
She sucked air through her nose—never a good sign. “Since you mention it, yes,” she snapped. “I don’t understand how you can stand to be around him after what…”
“It wasn’t his fault!” I shouted, at the end of my rope with her bad attitude about Alex.
“The military report said…”
“It was wrong! I don’t believe…”
“It’s in black and white, Jordan…”
“You can’t be serious! How can you be so…so…judgmental…and so…naïve? Like everything the military says is gospel. You’re just looking for someone to blame so you don’t have to look at the truth… ” My blood was boiling and I faced off with my mother, the two of us working up to a full-blown explosion of words we couldn’t take back.
“And you can’t see the truth when it’s staring you in the face. Talk about naïve…” She had slammed her cup onto the counter, coffee spilling over onto the folded newspaper.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice extra chilly.
“It means you’re only attaching yourself to Alex so you don’t have to deal with your own loss. You act like it doesn’t matter that your brother is gone…” she was crying now, her words coming out in sharp gas
ps.
“How can you say that?” I screamed. I’d been trying to hold it together for her, and now she was accusing me of not caring.
“What’s going on in here?” Brig burst in through the kitchen door, undoubtedly hearing our raised voices all the way out into the garden.
“Mom doesn’t want me to see Alex. She thinks it’s his fault—what happened to Lee. And she doesn’t think I even care that Lee is dead.” By now my anger was dissolving to tears and I heard my voice pitch into that whiny teenage girl sound that I hated so much when I heard my friends do it. But I couldn’t help it. She wasn’t being fair.
“I didn’t say any of that,” she sniffled and lowered her voice, gaining control in front of Brig. “I didn’t tell you that you couldn’t see him. I just said I thought you were spending too much time with him. You’re only seventeen years old, Jordan. You should be out having fun with your friends, not babysitting a Marine recovering from trauma.” Her voice shook. “And I didn’t say you didn’t care…oh what difference does it make?” She turned her back and stomped out of the room. “Do whatever you want. You always do.”
With that, she disappeared up the stairs, leaving me crying in the kitchen and feeling worse than if she had stayed and fought. “Why does she start with me and then walk away? It’s like she wants me to hate her.” I sobbed, turning my back to my grandfather and staring out the window at the ragged scarecrow that stood amongst the neat rows of vegetable mounds and prize-winning tomatoes, still green on the vines, and looking all perfect. Tears spilled down my cheeks faster and faster. “I can’t stand it. She always runs away from a fight. It seems like she spends most of her life hiding from the truth, existing in her own protective bubble and leaving the rest of us out here to deal with reality.”
“Your mom…she isn’t strong like you are. She’s afraid of all the hurt the world can bring. She’s had her fair share of troubles and…well…she thinks she needs to protect herself. It’s just her way.”