by Robin Cain
“Yes, I thought it turned out nicely,” Sadie managed to say before Vivian took a breath and began again.
“Here we go. Home at last. I bet it feels marvelous, doesn’t it Frank? Aren’t you glad to be home? I bet you are. I’ll get you settled and nice and comfortable. Then I’ll fix you a nice lunch.” Vivian continued to chatter while pushing Frank through the open house door and into the kitchen.
“Thank you, Vivian,” Frank said when he could get a word in. “And thank you, Sadie. It’s great to be home.”
“I’ll go get your things out of the van and bring them in then,” Vivian offered. She left the kitchen door open behind her. A sudden silence fell over the room with her departure.
“The house looks great,” Frank remarked.
“Thanks. It’s so nice to have you home.” Sadie leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Would you like some lunch or something to drink?” She opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water for herself.
“No thanks. I think I need to reacquaint myself with the house, though.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Come. Let me show you what all has been done,” Sadie offered, slightly embarrassed for having not thought of it herself. She set down her bottle and hesitated, not sure if she should push him or just let him follow her. Oblivious to her quandary, Frank efficiently wheeled himself out of the kitchen.
They moved from room to room and Sadie pointed out all the changes she had made in his absence: handrails added; carpets removed; light switches lowered; and furniture rearranged to accommodate his wheelchair. His bathroom had undergone a major renovation, providing him as much independence as money could buy. Sadie felt she had done a tremendous job in a relatively short amount of time to anticipate his needs, but she noticed Frank wasn’t saying anything about it.
The tour ended in the master bedroom where a new second bed was in the room, as well as handrails and a power-assisted lift that had been installed. Seeing the surprised look on Frank’s face, Sadie quickly began to explain.
“I wasn’t sure what would be best. I had the second bed put in here temporarily—just in case it’s more comfortable for both of us if I sleep there.” She let the words linger, trying to read his thoughts.
After the accident, Frank had offered Sadie her sexual freedom. He felt that he had lost his manhood, and she had spent many a day and night trying to convince him—and herself—that having him alive was all that mattered. Now resigned to the fact that she would stay by Frank’s side, Sadie was determined to make the best of it.
One of the subjects discussed at great length in therapy was the matter of their sex life and how it would be significantly affected by his limited movement and feeling below the waist. Aside from the matter of pleasure and satisfaction was the question of conception. They’d never had the discussion before but therapy put the matter on the table. Thoughts of a baby had originally been the furthest thing from both their minds. But, as the discussions continued at the prodding of the therapist, Frank likened to the idea, believing they should try now while they maybe still had a chance. Sadie thought it was all an exercise in futility, but she didn’t want to hurt Frank’s feelings. Viable options were explained to them but none were appealing, so Frank took matters into his own hands.
After conducting some thorough research, Frank learned that an option existed beyond the commonly used invasive procedure to surgically extract semen from the testes. Success had been achieved by a fertility clinic in Chicago using a device that triggered ejaculation with low-voltage impulses of electricity. A paralyzed man with injuries similar to Frank’s was now the proud father of two children after using this device to inseminate his wife naturally. This alternative appealed to Frank’s scientific background, as well as his manhood.
Frank contacted the clinic while in therapy and got the name of a specialist nearby who had knowledge and familiarity with the device. He made arrangements to get there, was put through a litany of tests and exams and learned that his sperm count and mobility were satisfactory. The only real impediment to pregnancy was Sadie’s age. Frank used this as a means to convince Sadie to go along with his plan. For both of them, he said, it was now or never.
Now, as Sadie stood in their master bedroom looking at the two separate beds, she remembered these discussions and wondered if it was all a moot point.
“No, it’s probably a good idea, Sadie. You’re right,” Frank said, interrupting Sadie’s silent reverie but failing to address what she was thinking. “You know, I’m beat from all the activity today. I have to lay down for awhile.”
“Of course. Do you need any help?” She felt inclined to offer even though the lift was the same as the one he had mastered in rehab. She walked over to his bed and removed the decorative pillows and watched as he wheeled over to get in proper placement for the lift. What he had done probably hundreds of times in the past now struck her as incredibly heartbreaking and unjust.
“I’m good. Thanks. Wake me in an hour if I do fall asleep, though. I need to make some calls to the office.” He reached for the control and maneuvered himself into place.
Sadie waited to make sure he was settled, bid him a good sleep and let herself out the door. It wasn’t until she had completely shut the door and started back down the hallway that she let her pent-up tears finally fall.
nineteen
THE WELCOME banner stretched across the entrance to the building measured thirty-six feet long and eight feet high. Ready with balloons and noisemakers, a crowd of MineWare employees gathered just inside the front door to greet Frank on his first official day back to work. Though most of them had visited or spoken to him on the phone since the accident two months ago, he had not physically been to the office before today. Without the blessing of his physicians, Frank decided he was strong enough for at least partial days. The banner, proclaiming to the world he had not only survived but was back among the ranks at MineWare, made him smile. What little he’d had to smile about the last few months flooded his thoughts as he got out of the van.
The accident and rehab, though they had held their own pains and sorrows, didn’t seem nearly as hard as coming home had been. Having to reacquaint themselves and acclimate to the new set of circumstances, he and Sadie had to learn how to cope with the long journey ahead. This life-changing experience had forced many lessons upon Frank, countless numbers of which required searching his soul long and hard to understand. Angry and bitter during many of the early days, he had slowly let the circumstances of his reality sink in.
As Frank regained some sensation to small, irrelevant regions of his lower half, more significant and long-term feelings for the appreciation of his life and recognition of his past wrongs flooded his conscience. Sadie’s steadfast commitment, juxtaposed with what he perceived to be Citra’s obvious narcissism, stood testament to his own gross miscalculations. Nearly brought to the edge of what could have been the end of his life, Frank knew he would now spend the remainder of his days trying to make up for it. He thanked God every day for having been given the opportunity. He and Sadie both knew they had a great deal to work on but, somehow—instinctively and silently agreeing to let the past go—they began their voyage with only the baggage of lessons learned.
The realization that it wasn’t going to be easy came quickly to them. Frank found the truth of that particularly evident in what were now their clumsy attempts to reestablish their sex life. They awkwardly grappled with the inabilities of both their bodies and their minds, discovering it took time and practice, in addition to pharmaceutical aids and patience, to find ways to pleasure each other. Though vastly different from what they had once shared, their sex life actually became the means by which they were finally able to reconnect. Void of any real meaning before the accident, their lovemaking now reflected an expression of their commitment and, as a result, Frank wholeheartedly wanted the relationship to work.
That’s why it had been such a distraction this morning when he’d learned Sadie’s period was late.
She had acted like she hadn’t wanted him to know—which was odd—but it must have been because of her uncertainty. Analytical as he was, Frank would’ve preferred absolute confirmation before he got too excited, but now he knew and had that to think about. Proud as a peacock that their recent efforts may have worked after all, Frank beamed with pride. But he had to get to work.
Frank felt badly leaving Sadie home alone with Vivian. She had grown to be more of a curse than a blessing these days. Though her training and assistance with his therapy was invaluable, her intrusive and informal manner were becoming more than he could bear. She assumed camaraderie between them that didn’t exist, engaging in unwelcome conversation by the boatload and making increasingly brazen comments about how attractive she found him.
She would incessantly pry into his psyche, insisting Frank needed to ‘get in touch with his chi,’ certain he wasn’t doing what he needed to do to heal. His troubles, she tried to tell him, were a function of disharmony and things being out of balance. Her physical massages were becoming too intimate and it was apparent that her personal feelings were poring over into their relationship. As an analytical and practical man, he wanted no part of her psychobabble and, as a married man not attracted to her in any way, he wanted no part of her obvious attempts to get close to him. Frank often wondered what the hell Janie had been thinking by recommending her.
To complicate matters, Sadie had never warmed up to Vivian. Beyond suspecting Vivian was snooping and secretly listening in on private conversations, Sadie seemed convinced Vivian was developing an attraction to him early on. Though he had tried to convince her that it was all in her imagination and they simply were not used to having this third person around, he wasn’t all that convinced of it himself. He anticipated Vivian was going to prove to be more trouble than she was worth one day very soon and guessed it would only be a matter of time before Sadie let her go.
Now, as Frank rolled up the ramp leading to the main lobby of MineWare, he tried to rid himself of these thoughts, knowing he shouldn’t worry about it. Things would work out and there were bigger issues awaiting him. He hit the switch to open the main door.
Thunderous applause greeted him. His employees, gathered in force, came up en masse to pat him on the back and shake his hand. Touched and overwhelmed by the warm welcome, he cleared his throat and addressed the group.
“Thank you. Thank you, all of you. It’s nice to be back. I appreciate all your cards, calls and concern. You helped me through a great many rough moments,” he told them.
With tears in her eyes, Frank’s assistant, Janie, was the next to speak.
“Frank, we are so happy to see you. We’ve missed you.” Though she’d spent many, many hours with Frank since he’d come home from therapy two months ago, she was happy to see him back inside the walls of MineWare. Frank was touched by her emotion but he didn’t want any more of that today.
“Thank you all, again. Now get back to work!” he bellowed, hoping to bring a little levity to the room.
After gales of laughter, more blowing of noisemakers and coffee cups lifted in a toast, each employee singly took turns welcoming him back. Citra stood at the back of the room, impatiently waiting to steal a quiet one-on-one with Frank. She walked up to him when the crowd subsided. A broad smile lit up her face.
“Hello, Frank. I’ve missed you.” Outfitted in a siren red, tight-fitting dress and wearing her trademark shoes, Citra showed no outward signs of the accident. She had healed well.
“Hello, Citra. Thank you.”
Frank leaned forward as best he could to hug her. Citra awkwardly bent down and put her arms around his shoulders. Frank took notice of her unease immediately and, realizing with a nearly certain finality that there was no room for her in his life, he quickly excused himself and turned to wheel away. He headed in the direction of the Security department, but he first stopped at Janie’s desk. Citra hung around to eavesdrop.
“Janie, before I forget, have some roses sent to Sadie today, will you?”
“Sure, what should the card say?” Janie asked, grabbing a pad off her desk.
“‘Can’t wait! I love you, Frank.’” Janie wrote the words down, looked up and gave Frank a questioning look.
“She’ll know what it means, Janie. Thanks. And also, come with me, if you will. There are some things I need to follow up on with you.”
“Be there in a second. Let me get these flowers ordered.”
Citra stood and watched Frank leave, stunned and more than a little irritated by his slight. The two receptionists and Janie, as well as some of the party stragglers, were now looking at Citra with smug expressions. Regaining her composure, tossing her hair back and giving them her best “go fuck yourselves” look, Citra turned and walked back to her office.
She didn’t like what she was seeing and hearing these days. Since Frank had returned home, he hadn’t given her the time of day. Rarely available to discuss anything with her, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid seeing her. There was always something that prevented her from getting close to him. She had been made to take the back seat in his life and was now realizing her opportunity to move to the front had long since passed.
Their fight in Paris had nearly been the end for them. They’d flown home separately, with Citra bitterly angry and convinced she was going to quit MineWare and Frank—regardless of any deal they had made. When she landed back in L.A. hours later, Citra realized she couldn’t just up and walk away from everything Frank had laid out for her. Her pending deals and her upcoming trip to London all had to be addressed, not to mention the potential income with the partnership she’d lose if she just walked away. So Citra had decided to stay with MineWare, basing her decision on those things alone.
She had successfully managed to avoid Frank outside of work for nearly a week after their trip to Paris and their relationship at work became one of strained politeness—her speaking to him only when necessary and him avoiding her and any confrontation. But, right before Citra’s trip to London, Frank had finally broken down and made an effort to work things out between them. After much talk and plenty of promises, convincing her he didn’t want to lose her, Frank swore things would be different and that he would get everything to happen faster. Though Citra didn’t believe that promise applied to ending his marriage to Sadie just yet, she believed he would come to realize he needed her in his life on a permanent basis. Citra had been convinced it was only a matter of time—up until Frank’s ill-fated decision to drive her to the airport. That had spoiled their run and, like getting “Snake Eyes on the Come Out roll” in a craps game, they’d wound up losers all around.
The crash had been a blur. They had taken her car to the airport so Frank could arrange to have some work done on it while she was gone. The roads were flooded from a recent rain. Frank was driving, talking about Sadie and not really paying attention. She remembered that part clearly. The next thing she knew she was writhing in pain, surrounded by paramedics doing their best to try and console her. The last time she saw Frank that night he was still trapped in the car and the fire crew was using the Jaws of Life to get him out. She remembered screaming.
Suffering only a broken rib and some bad cuts, she was released a couple days later. Though she was then finally able to visit Frank, she found herself unequipped and unable to deal with his emotions. Ranging from angry to sad to suicidal most days, Frank’s mental and physical pain was more than she could bear. With her being clearly unable to help him and their conversations no longer containing talk of the relationship they’d once had outside of work, her visits eventually became a strain on both of them. Visiting less during his final days in rehab, she knew they’d meet once he got out. But there was nothing left of them these days.
Now that she was missing the attention and the benefits of the inside track, Citra was a little nervous about what it meant for her future. Though she had a contract holding Frank to his promise, she had also expected to one day be sharing in the real wealth as �
��Mrs. MineWare.” She had made the company millions through her sales efforts and, having made Frank personally happy more times than she could count, she believed he couldn’t live without her in more ways than one. Now that Frank was a cripple, she was convinced she might have to change her direction—and maybe even her loyalties. For the last few days, she’d even been hearing rumors that the OurWare project was coming in way behind schedule.
Now that Frank had publicly snubbed her, Citra decided she’d better attend the day’s scheduled project meeting. Under the ruse of needing to have information to “tease” her existing client base, she sat as an observer along with a host of programmers and designers. Her longevity and status with both MineWare and Frank was her admission ticket to this otherwise exclusive meeting of the current OurWare wizards. The project meeting’s topic discussion involved a key new element to the program upgrade. Though not technically trained as the others attending, Citra had been around long enough and knew just enough to make sense of most of it.
Ray Richardson, the senior programmer of the group, ran the meeting. A slightly balding man in his mid-forties with a paunch and pale complexion, Ray had the telltale signs of too many hours spent in front of a computer screen. He was going over the results of the latest testing phase when Citra entered the room and sat down.
“We had been having some issues with this one section of code, as you all probably know, but we believe we have addressed it successfully with the addition of Mel’s improvements,” he told the group, referring to the only woman programmer seated at the expansive table.
A real genius at spotting coding errors, Mel—a petite, twenty-something Asian girl, with jet black hair cut so short she looked like a young boy from behind—was one of the company’s most recent hires. Her ability to assess code was becoming legendary among her co-workers. She seemed to instinctively and immediately know if it would fit or not, as if the puzzle pieces were labeled. Her talents remained the admiration and the envy of the entire team with whom she worked. Mel’s solution to this troublesome section of code had not only alleviated the problems, but had given rise to new coding that would significantly enhance the product.