“You must be Jake!” The vivacious Asian chick pulled me in for a hug. The tiny thing must have only weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, but when she yanked me hard into her skinny arms, I felt comforted for the first time in days.
Relief swept over me as I mumbled, “That’s me,” into her shiny black hair, trying to steal some of her enthusiasm.
She reached up to pat my back, telling me how sorry she was for what we were going through. “I love this girl too, you know,” she whispered, then pulled away and looked up into my eyes, hers glistening with unshed tears.
All too soon, she pulled away and seemed to bury her worry deep inside before she plopped down on the bed next to Aly. Smiling brightly as she chattered about random inconsequential things, she dug through her enormous purse until she found a hairbrush, then nudged Aly until she sat up and turned her back so Hilary could brush her hair.
Aly didn’t speak, but tears slipped from her eyes as Hilary rambled on.
When she noticed Aly reach up to swipe away a tear, Hilary stopped and caught Aly’s chin, turning her face toward hers. “Aly, honey, I know you don’t trust easy, but you trust me, and I’m telling you it’s going to work out,” she whispered.
Reaching her hand to brush Aly’s hair away from her face, Hilary went on. “See that man? He’s it for you. I knew when you told me about him a few weeks ago. I could see the twinkle in your eye. It had never been there before, and I want to see it back. So you get better and when you are, you’ll see I’m right.”
When she left a few hours later, Hilary squeezed my hand, sticking her business card with her cell number written on it inside my palm. “Stay strong and keep me posted, Jake. She doesn’t have too many people in her corner. She needs you.” With a gentle kiss on the cheek, Hilary left me to pretend to be brave again.
After ten days, my beautiful Alyson Road went to rehab a mute, and we—Bess, Lane, James, Barry, and even Camper—all continued to move forward, crossing our fingers she’d come around soon.
Aly
Disgusting salty-smelling sweat trickled down my back. Even the underarms of my T-shirt were soaked through.
“Good job, Aly!” my physical therapist chirped at me.
I didn’t respond; instead I repeated the task once more. Using only my arms, I transferred myself from the chair to the bed and back again. My right foot dragged on the floor, and my stupid stump hung there useless because I refused the temporary prosthetic, wanting the constant reminder of my half-a-woman status.
I went back and forth a few more times before finally falling back on the pillow. Settling my right leg and shutting my eyes, I tried to sneak in a cat nap, even though I didn’t believe they would let me stay there and be comfortable.
“Aly, we have one more exercise, and then you can go back to your room,” Little Miss Chipper said, and I nodded.
I didn’t talk anymore. Sadness coursed through my entire body, rendering words useless.
Why did I need to speak anyway? I wasn’t practicing law. I wasn’t working or studying or climbing stairs. I wasn’t falling in love. I was in an awful-smelling, ugly, bleached environment surrounded with other victims. Some suffered from strokes while others had been in accidents. They were a cross-section of society, both old people and young daredevils, and I despised all of them.
I was rehabbing, which was another way of saying I was broken and they were trying to fix me. There was no cure for losing half your leg, apparently.
“Crutches or chair?”
Sunny, my therapist, was so peppy and cute. She was all smiles, all the time, and I hated her.
I heaved myself back to the chair and up onto my crutches. No way was I riding in a wheelchair. They tried to do that with me a few times, and I became so combative, they had to sedate me.
We did the stupid stretches on the mat, then Sunny worked out the kinks in my neck. The neck rub was heavenly, so I actually muttered a thank-you before loping back to my room on the crutches.
Finally settled in my bed with my eyes closed, enjoying a quiet moment being left the hell alone, I heard a soft knock on my door and huffed out a sigh.
Who now?
No one ever left me alone. Jake came every day, always with goodies in hand, both for me and for the nurses. Sometimes they were smoothies, other days they were some organic vegan brownies that were supposed to be full of protein. Whatever. I wasn’t interested, not in food or anything else.
Jake would murmur with the nursing staff about me, probably going over my progress with them, and then would sit with me while I didn’t say shit. He’d run his hand up and down my arm, telling me all about the gym. And every day, he would say he was sorry.
He mentioned never letting anything bad happen to me again each time he visited. But what if I was the bad thing happening to him?
“I don’t know what happened with us,” he told me two days ago. “It was quick. One minute I was a bachelor, and the next minute, I wanted to take care of you every second. It was like I saw a better me in you. I know I bossed you around and made you move, but something hit me hard with you.” Trying to catch my eye, he leaned closer and whispered, “Please, Aly, say something.”
Yesterday it was, “Aly, I care for you, I’m not going anywhere.” He’d brought dinner—grilled chicken and rice—and I refused it, pointing at my tray.
I’d been here at rehab close to a month. Each day, I banked on them giving up on my bullshit, but apparently they decided I was getting a prosthetic. It was ugly and a poor replacement for what once had resided there. Then I was going home.
Well, not home, to Jake’s place. Of course, I assumed the crew would all be there, the usual bystanders always encouraging me to “do it” and “conquer this” and “achieve that.”
“Aly?” my visitor called.
I swiped a hand across my face, concealing the newly fallen tears, then looked toward the door. Bess stood there, her brown hair flowing down her back, her two skinny legs tucked into dark jeans, and a broad smile on her face.
“Can I come in?” she asked, false enthusiasm filling her words and facial expression.
I nodded, although another cheerleading session was the last thing I wanted.
She sat down on the edge of the bed like she did all the other times she visited. Usually she’d rattle on about her baby or Jake, how much he cared for me, or something like the weather. Summer and the promise of new life was everywhere except in my ugly, desolate rehab room.
I was stuck inside, unable to do anything. Who cared about the weather?
Bess held my gaze and used her no-nonsense “mom” voice. “We are going to talk today, Aly. You’re going to speak to me, and we’re going to make plans for when you go home.”
Saying nothing, I just stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.
Undeterred, Bess went on. “We’ve all given you time, but that ends now. Jake is a wreck. He’s going to murder someone if you don’t come around. It’s time for you to be strong for yourself. You’re alive and that’s what counts.”
When I raised an eyebrow, she sighed.
“Look, if you can’t be strong for yourself, be strong for him. Jake’s barely hanging on. The guilt, the sadness, everything, it’s tearing him apart. He’s hopeful one moment and depressed the next. Then there’s Shirley. He hates her for what she did when he was a kid, but is grateful to her for saving you. It’s driving him nuts.”
No one had ever bothered to fill me in, but I finally put it all together about my rescuer by eavesdropping on Bess and Jake talking in the hallway. Shirley wanted back in Jake’s good graces and to make amends, so she was using my severed leg as a bargaining chip. Apparently Jake wasn’t buying it. Yes, he was thankful she found me and told her so, but that didn’t erase all that had happened years ago.
When I learned that, I’d sat in my hospital bed and half wished she’d have let me bleed out and die. After all, my life was over. I was nothing more than half a woman, a gimp. No one
would want me, and why would they? I didn’t deserve happiness.
Shirley had come to see me once, back when I was still in the hospital. Bess turned her away at the door, but promised to call her and keep her posted from time to time. Although that was what Bess had said, I wasn’t sure if she’d followed through with it.
As Bess sat there lecturing me, alternately giving me a pep talk and then trying to make me feel guilty, emotion spiraled up my spine. I was sick of all the sappiness and wishful thoughts. I was going to murder someone, forget Jake.
Practically spitting fire, I finally spoke, letting Bess have it. “He looks fine to me. Jake. All buff and hot. Girls must be climbing all over him.”
Her eyebrows rose with surprise and she gaped at me. It was the most I’d spoken since the day I woke up with one and a half legs.
Giving her no time to respond, I shouted, “Look at me, I’m half a woman! I can’t compete with those gym girls, and Mr. Hard-body deserves better. A real woman, one who can get down on her knees or wrap her legs around his waist while he slams her into the wall.” Lowering my voice, I narrowed my eyes on her and said, “Did you know he likes to dominate, be in control? What about with a gimp?”
It was mean of me; I knew that. Bess didn’t need to hear about her brother-in-law’s sexual proclivities. I knew it was over the top, but I wanted her gone. A month’s worth of pent-up anger and self-pity spewed from my mouth as I sat up straighter, laying into Bess whether she deserved it or not.
“He needs a woman who works, uses her degree she fought to earn. Not a woman who hobbles like an old lady afraid to go back to work, one who’s scared and looks over her shoulder, worried that someone’s going to kidnap her again.”
Bess gave me a sad smile. “You are a whole woman, Aly. You are who Jake wants, not the girls at the gym. I’ve never seen him at peace until the few weeks you two were together and happy.”
The tears turned on again, a raging flood that ran down my face. “No. I don’t want to believe it.”
In my heart, I knew Jake was devoted and dedicated, but my brain couldn’t accept that. My emotions had reverted to the first few weeks I knew Jake, when I wanted to pretend there was nothing between us, that he wasn’t a sweet and kind man, and I was only having fun.
But what we had was so much more, almost right from the beginning. It had been a strange sequence of events, but they belonged to me, to us. The truth was, I loved the man, and for Jake’s sake, I couldn’t allow myself to get wrapped up in his life again, or allow Jake to get attached to me.
“I can’t listen to this,” I mumbled.
“Yes, you will,” Bess said with certainty. “Listen, you know I was an addict. I was beyond broken back then, and it took me years to get my life together. I get it; I get you. When I met Lane, I didn’t think I deserved him. And now I think, what if I didn’t have him, or our baby, or even James?”
Swiping at my wet cheeks, I let out a snotty snort. “That’s different. Look at you—you’re young, sexy, beautiful, making a difference in the world.” I pointed at her slight frame settled next to me.
“You’re all those things too,” she said.
Wildly I shook my head, pressing my lips together, refusing to engage in discussion.
Bess grabbed my arm and shook me. “Aly! You are not shutting down anymore. Stop it.”
I shrugged away from her hold and turned my face away from her. The goddamn tears came fierce and heavy, slanting in a hot trail down my cheek.
“You’re going back to Jake’s,” Bess said firmly. “His home, not the rental. Did you know he renovated a room in his basement? He brought equipment from the gym for you to rehab with. You’re going to get your life back, Aly. For you. For him. For me. He’s too afraid to ask you to live, to fight. He’s going through the motions, praying you’ll come around, and he needs you. He needs to take care of you.”
“Some days, I want to die,” I said, sobbing. “At first, I couldn’t stop thinking about living when I was stuck in that barn. Now I wish I’d died.”
Bess got up and lay down with me, curling her body around mine. “You are not going to die until you’re old, Aly. You’ve got a full life of living ahead of you.”
She stroked my hair as I sobbed, rocking me in her arms until I couldn’t cry anymore. We fell asleep like that, our breaths commingling, our bodies curled up together like kittens.
She was the sister I never had, the confidante I’d always dreamed of. Curled up in Bess Wrigley’s arms, I dreamed of growing old, like she said. In my dreams, I was gray and Jake was still fit and gorgeous, but his arm was flung around me, holding me close as he kissed my temple.
“Ladies.”
The bed depressed next to me. With one eye opened, I saw Jake. He was a mess. His hair was unruly, thick stubble lined his face, dark circles ringed his eyes, and new veins bulged along his biceps.
He looked terrible, and it crushed me that I hadn’t noticed his suffering, being so caught up in my own tragedy and all. Here was this guy I’d thought I was falling for, and despite my being a total nut, he cared for me. Yes, he was bossy, and swept me up into a whirlwind of a romance, going way overboard by moving me to a new place and buying us a dog.
But he’d made me want to live once. Could he do it again? Could I live a full and happy life like Bess said?
“I’m going to go,” Bess said in a hushed voice. Sweeping her dark hair behind her ear, she pushed off the bed and stood up, her eyes speaking clearly to me. Jake is a good man. She glanced at Jake and nodded before she slipped out of the room.
Jake took her place in the bed. I moved my right leg a little bit, letting the tingles escape. The phantom tingles tickled their way down my missing left leg, and I let them run their course. I knew they weren’t there, but I pretended I was whole for one moment.
“Aly, come back to me, babe.”
Settling in, he kicked off his running shoes and snuggled closer. “Come back to me. I love you.”
I love you?
Trembling, I lifted my hand to touch him but let it fall. He needs you, I told myself. So I lifted my hand again and brought it to Jake’s broad back, then drifted it in slow strokes up and down his spine. “I’m going to try to come back, Jake.”
Somewhere between declaring I wanted to die and falling asleep, I’d decided I wanted to live. I didn’t know if it was what Bess said or my dream that had changed me, but I was ready to live.
“Good,” he said, and snuggled closer.
As I stroked his back, I felt a lump under his shirt and panicked. “What is that?”
“It’s all good, Aly-cat.” He stood abruptly and tugged off his shirt, his movements sending his abs and arms rippling. He turned his back to me and reached over to rip a bandage off his shoulder blade.
I blinked, unsure what I was seeing was real. Tattooed across his shoulder blade was one of those silhouettes of a woman’s legs, except this one had one real leg and one with a prosthetic. It should have been ugly, but it wasn’t. It was very sexy. Red stiletto fuck-me heels adorned each foot, both the real one and the prosthetic, and underneath, Legs was written in a beautiful script.
“You ready to get your new leg, babe?”
Aly
“Shoot!” The bottle fell to the floor, sending bright orange lotion squirting everywhere except where I wanted. Deflated, I slammed my palm into the counter and grabbed my crutches. I let out a defeated sigh as I hobbled over to the stupid bottle, bending over on one foot to grab it, and cursing the fact I didn’t put on my damn prosthetic.
I needed a break from that mechanical hunk of junk. Of course, it was top of the line; I had government-employee health insurance. It still stank; it was ugly and foreign. And it wasn’t me. For God’s sake, all I wanted was to go into the damn bathroom and have some girl time without having to strap on my suit of armor.
With my right leg laid out straight in front of me and my good ole stump there too, I slumped down on the floor and snatched up the bott
le. It was the Fourth of July, and I hadn’t spent much time outside so I was pale as a ghost. Was it too much to want to look sexy, seductive even, with an uneven body?
I slathered the hideous self-tanning lotion over my muscles and curves. My right leg had definitely benefited from the grueling workouts; it was toned and firm. My arm muscles flexed as I blended the cream into my fair skin. I was more fit than ever before, everywhere but my left leg. My right quad was sculpted, my calf equally as defined. I could have run a million steps with two legs, and they wouldn’t have been this muscular.
I guess one is better than none.
Shoving all of it to the back of my mind, I went back to prettying myself. I’d never been self-conscious before. I used to take care of myself, making health and wellness a priority but not a life mission. Forced to live within a budget in my old life, I’d bought flattering, somewhat sexy professional and casual clothes on sale. Now I lived with a muscle man and was a semi-cripple.
Okay, so I hadn’t shoved my inadequacies as far back as I’d hoped. If I wasn’t so fragile, why did everyone continue to treat me as if I were?
There was a knock on the door, followed by it opening a crack. “Al, you good?”
“Yep,” I squeaked out.
The door opened wider. “Babe? What’re you doing on the floor?”
Proud of myself for holding the tears at bay, I pushed up to one leg and leaned against the counter. “I was putting on some cream. I’m good.”
Jake didn’t waste any time. He stalked across the bathroom tile barefoot and shirtless, his workout shorts hanging low on his waist, and picked me up.
I slapped his back. “Jake! You’re getting self-tanner all over you.”
“So what!”
Tossing me over his shoulder, he walked me over to the couch in the far side of his—our—bedroom. A throw pillow fell to the floor as he set me down.
“Get it,” he commanded Maverick, and the growing puppy gingerly picked up the pillow and brought it to Jake. In addition to a slew of PT people and gym buffs, a dog trainer came twice a week to train Mav to be helpful to me.
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