Mending Defects

by Lynn Galli

  By the next morning, it felt like I’d been there a week. Hospitals always did that to me. I signed the release papers without even reading them and went through a morning workout just loading into the car. The drive would take a few hours, but I didn’t care. Happiness was the sight of a hospital in my rearview mirror.

  “Wake up, honey,” Mom said.

  My eyes opened to the unbelievable sight of my garage door. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but Mom was already walking around to my side of the car. The door to my house opened and Dad, Spence, and Mei spilled out onto the porch. I moved to open the car door and flinched. Something felt like it tore open in my neck.

  “You okay, hon?” Mom opened the door for me.

  “Yep, just forgot to move slowly.” Like an idiot.

  Gravity helped slide me out of the car and I managed to stand without much fuss. Walking was another matter. My leg had stiffened up on the drive, making me regret asking the doctor to try using my femoral artery before the carotid. Even a failed attempt meant a hole, stitches, and pain in my groin. I’d be walking with a limp for more than a week and he still had to force the stent in through my neck anyway.

  To avoid stabbing pain with each step, I shuffle walked like a prisoner in ankle cuffs for the first time. The path to my house seemed to stretch to impossible lengths before my eyes. All the snow and ice didn’t help matters much. Dad and Spence trotted over to help, seizing my arms and practically lifting me along the path. I bit down on the screech of pain because it was the only way I’d get into the house. My strength wouldn’t have lasted past the garage door.

  “I wish you’d stay with us,” Mom repeated as they maneuvered me onto the sofa.

  “My house doesn’t have stairs, Mom.” Good thing, too. We’d just found out that I couldn’t lift my leg up a full riser without suffering a knife wound to my groin.

  “You’re staying here anyway, Dana,” Dad told her.

  “Slumber party,” Mei announced, pointing at her bag near the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “I can manage, guys.”

  They both rolled their eyes. Even if I weren’t lying, they weren’t going to leave me alone. I knew I’d be okay to get to the bathroom and the kitchen but staying long enough to make dinner would be difficult. Having Mom and Mei here would be like living with a house staff.

  “How bad is it?” Spence asked, adjusting a pillow to prop me up. He’d been the other person besides Mei to come visit me after my surgery in high school. Most people were freaked out by sickness, teenagers especially. Not Spencer. He showed up after baseball practice, only missing days when he had games. He became one of my best friends that month.

  “Not too bad now that I’m home.” Tomorrow it would really start hurting once the pain meds were out of my system, but I’d manage it with ibuprofen.

  “Good. I’ll get out of your hair for today.” He kissed my cheek.

  “Go do mayorly things, and take my dad with you,” I pleaded. Having Dad here made us all nervous. He’d be much better when I could walk without looking like I was marching on broken glass with every step.

  “Sure thing.” He grabbed my dad’s arm. “We’re out of here, Henry. Let the ladies have their fun.”

  “You sure, honey?” Dad looked hopeful that I was well enough to dismiss them.

  “We’re sure,” Mom answered for me. “You guys take off.”

  Mei shuttled them to the door as Mom fussed over me on the couch. She’d be like this for the next couple days until the throbbing pain passed on to aches. I’d get to sore by next week. By three, all traces of soreness would be gone, and I’d be all set for hopefully years-decades if I could manage it.

  I gazed at my mom and best friend, realizing how lucky I was to have them. Some mothers might have checked out with a sick child to block the heartache. Most best friends would have decided that they had better things to do than sit by a bedside. Not these two. I felt as lucky to have them as I did to be born in a year when my condition was no longer an automatic death warrant.

  “Hungry?” Mom asked, heading to the kitchen. She didn’t fool me. She already had my favorite all ready to warm up.

  Mei winked at me, pulling up my legs to push a pillow under my knees. She knew my mom was shoving something into the oven whether I was hungry or not.

  I laughed then clutched my neck and chest. That really hurt. I always forgot that. Coughing and sneezing were the worst, like the lash of a whip followed by molten steel rolling down my neck and chest. Good times, but I could manage for a couple of weeks. It would all be worth it once the pain was gone.

  Chapter 7

  Freedom never felt so good. My mother had only agreed to go back home because my friends would be taking shifts for meals and visits over the next few days. That would continue until I was walking without a limp and able to turn my neck without the bonus dull throbbing. At least my chest had stopped hurting and I was one week closer to being whole again.

  I stepped out onto my porch and let the fresh air revitalize me. Crisp still, but not frigid. The snow was melting and would soon be gone. My dad had cleared my driveway for probably the last time this season while I was recuperating. I felt good enough to shovel it now, not that I’d be able to do it. Just walking the length of my wraparound porch sucked all of my energy, but I felt good enough to try.

  One of the willow chairs on my porch beckoned. I eased into the chair and settled in. I could watch the forest around me for hours. It was my own reality television series. In the winter there wasn’t much to look at, but I still liked the way the snow weighed down the limbs of the pine trees and clung to the spindly trunks of the aspen trees.

  The sound of huffing had me rotating stiffly to check out my driveway. A blur of white came bounding toward me. Only the black nose and black tipped ear were clearly visible among the snow. Someone called out as the dog reached my steps and headed straight for me. He plowed his snout right into my lap, tail wagging eagerly. No fear of people for this dog.

  “Hello, pup.” I set my coffee down and reached for his ears, rubbing vigorously. “Haven’t seen you before.”

  “Kitty!”

  I looked up to find my neighbor standing at the foot of my driveway, hip jutted, foot tapping, another smaller dog relaxing at her side. “Kitty?”

  Lena shrugged and moved forward when she saw her dog wasn’t going to back away from my massaging hands. “It’s to prompt me to think of a real name.”

  “Is he new?” I re-examined the dog. He had to be two or three years old.

  “Just got him last week at the shelter. I went in for this one here.” She pointed down at what looked like a schnauzer next to her.

  “And came away with two?”

  “They were best buds. What was I supposed to do?”

  I grinned. We both knew she’d been suckered, but I liked that she didn’t seem to mind. I inclined my head at the chair next to me. She hesitated but didn’t have much choice when the bonus dog didn’t move. The small grey dog settled between us. “Looks like you got two of the best. I recognize that one as a schnauzer, but what have we got here?”

  “Pit bull mix.” Her chin lifted, almost like she was waiting for me to object. After thirty seconds of silence, it dropped and she looked away. “My co-op would never have allowed a pit bull where I used to live.”

  “You won’t find that a problem here.” I shifted to Kitty’s hind quarters and started scratching. His head dipped and he went into bliss.

  “I can see that.” She stroked the curly chin of the smaller dog.

  “You should probably nix the name. What about that one?”

  “Fender.” The schnauzer wiggled his behind at the sound of his name.

  “Nice.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced around. “You have a great view here.”

  “Almost exactly like yours, but from the other side.” I got her to smile. “Want some coffee?”

  “We won’t stay long.”

  “Half a cup?”
I wouldn’t give her an out, already pouring from the thermos I’d brought out with me. It was so nice to talk to someone who didn’t ask how I was feeling or look at me like I might break in half with every move I made.

  “You should open a coffee shop.” She accepted the mug and warmed both hands while sniffing the aroma.

  “That good, huh?”

  “I held on to your thermos for an extra day just for the lingering scent.”

  I laughed. She was loosening up. Bound in a parka and jeans, she looked like a real local. Only the fact that she’d swept her hair up into a messy knot leaving her ears exposed gave away her status as new to the area. She’d misjudged how cold it was before she started walking tonight. Her nose would soon become just as red as her ears.

  “You had a steady stream of people in and out of your place this past week. Are you running a side business I should know about?”

  My smile faltered, but then I realized that she didn’t know about me. It seemed like everyone else in town did, but this woman thought I was as robust and healthy as anyone else. “Book club.”

  She laughed, the sound hearty and warm. “Every day?”

  “I like to read.”

  Her hands came off Fender, waving in surrender. “I just bet.”

  “You wanted to join?”

  “Every day for a week? I couldn’t possibly keep up with that schedule. What are you guys reading, complete trash?”

  “Nothing wrong with mindless lit.”

  She stared at me, not one ounce of humor on her face. “If you say so.” Deadpan worked for her.

  Her eyes drifted down to the edge of my turtleneck. I reached up and checked that my collar covered the bandage that would come off with the stitches tomorrow. Nothing appeared out of order, but I hitched up the shirt just in case. She watched my fingers make the adjustment, scrutinizing like she was trying to find Waldo.

  I rushed to deflect her attention. “You’d join for my coffee.”

  “That’s true.” She tipped the last of the coffee into her mouth.

  “I’ve got more.”

  “I’ll remember that.” She stood up and slapped her thigh. Kitty looked over and realized he was going to have to leave. He backed into me for one last rub then bounded off the porch to join Fender on their walk back. “Glad it wasn’t something else.”

  I steeled my expression, searching hers. It was possible that she’d run into someone who spilled the story about my procedure. I would hope that they’d keep my medical condition private from someone I hardly knew. It was too much to ask that they wouldn’t tell her other things about me, but my medical history should be off the table.

  “Stop by anytime.”

  She waved and headed out. Our third meeting and I already felt like she was becoming a friend.

  From the Journal of Lena Coleridge:

  Good day today. The kids seemed to respond to the assembly. I worried for nothing again. Kids need rules and guidelines. Some might drag their heels, but they’re all mostly good. None of these kids strike me as violent, a nice change from Baltimore. Hormone induced stupidity for sure, but for the most part, they have good intentions.

  Kirsten is becoming a trusted ally. She’s not resentful at all-big relief. Thought I’d get some attitude when she lost her gig as interim principal, but she prefers being a vice principal. Ugh, so not for me. She’s great for bouncing ideas around and a good conversationalist in general. Focuses on work a little too much, but I can’t be choosey with friends in a small town. Another downside I’m learning to live with.

  Rounding out the good day, I stopped over at Glory’s. Nothing to worry about there. Turns out all those people coming and going from her house this past week wasn’t because of bad news. Thought it might have been a death in the family, but she joked about a book club. I’m curious, but she didn’t seem sad, a little tired but not sad, and I don’t know her well enough to force the issue. Maybe it was a town project or something. People keep telling me there are all sorts of festivals that happen in the off season. She could be on the town council for all I know. She certainly has the likable personality for it. I should trust Kitty-and change his name-but for now, trust him. He’s a good judge of character. Perhaps we’ll be stopping by on our evening walks more often. Her coffee and various baked items aren’t the only attractive things about her.

  Chapter 8

  The smell of must still lingered in the school district boardroom, despite the recent renovation. I’d recommended a full reno during the last budget meeting not just the cosmetic changes that were made. Three meetings later, the rest of the board now agreed with me. It was one of two topics we had slated for what should have been a short last meeting of the school year. When I’d arrived, I was shocked to see all the seats full. Either this town was starved for entertainment or they felt there was something other than drywall bids and next year’s meeting dates to discuss tonight.

  “Glor,” Terry, the superintendent of the district, greeted as I took my place on the dais two seats over from him. “How are you feeling?”

  Three weeks had passed. I felt great, but that didn’t stop everyone in town who hadn’t yet checked in from asking after my health. Small towns sucked sometimes. Big city life with no one knowing about my heart condition and when I’d had surgery sure had great appeal at times.

  “Fine, thanks, Terry. Big crowd tonight, huh?” I wanted to get his mind back on the matter at hand. Enough concern already. Time for something else big to happen and take me off the gossip list.

  “Huge. A lot of people signed up for public comments.” He glanced over at the door where people were signing in. He wasn’t concerned about what they’d say. He was concerned he’d miss tonight’s episode of Dancing with the Stars. We’d spent many pre-meeting sessions rehashing what happened on the show. Even if I liked the show, I wouldn’t have to watch it with his exhaustive reports.

  We were soon joined by the other three members of the board, and Terry rapped his gavel to start the meeting. He called roll, which I’d never understood since everyone could see us sitting behind our name plates and everyone in the audience knew who we were, but he liked to stick with tradition.

  When I acknowledged my presence I caught movement in the second row on the aisle. Lena’s face swung up and over to stare at me, an astonished smile on her face.

  “Hello, neighbor. Surprised?” I could tell by the degree of astonishment that she hadn’t looked closely at the names on her offer letter.

  Once we’d gone through the boring business that could just as easily have been written up in a newsletter and distributed, Terry opened the floor for comments. His assistant called out from her list, prompting the first public comment in a year since we’d voted down upgrading the uniforms for the boys’ basketball team. Voted down because they weren’t going to upgrade the girls’ uniforms at the same time. Some people in town felt that since the boys’ team did much better than the girls’ that they should have new uniforms. Surprisingly, three of the board members initially agreed.

  One of my clients, Rebecca, scurried down the aisle from the back and tapped the microphone. This was the first time I’d ever seen her in a meeting much less attempt to speak out. Her son, Jaden, wasn’t exactly a stellar student or athlete. In fact, I think he pretty much only excelled at lunch.

  “Are you aware that there’s been a policy change regarding suspensions at the high school? Apparently the new principal doesn’t understand how we do things around here and has taken it upon herself to institute new policies and procedures.” She stressed certain words as if we weren’t all aware that we had a new principal who was female.

  Terry swiveled his head to look at us, obviously wondering if any of us knew there’d been a policy change. I hadn’t heard about it, but many of the parents made agreement noises, clearly having signed up to talk about the same thing.

  “We’re all very concerned about how this will affect our children,” Rebecca continued.

  He
ads nodded throughout the room, and I had to turn away to hide my smile. Who knew this many parents had kids who have been or were in danger of being suspended? It always seemed like the parents with kids who acted up had the loudest voices. Perhaps that was why their kids acted up. They learned it from their parents.

  “This woman you hired,” she began, giving each of us a steely glare for having the nerve to hire someone to fill an important position, “has decided to enforce unnecessarily strict rules. Our students are suffering the punishment, and these minor discretions are being recorded on their permanent records. It’s hard enough for kids to get into college these days. Having a suspension on their record could ruin their chances.”

  Knowing her nightmare of son, Jaden, I wanted to laugh out loud. He was the kind of kid who deserved to spend time in a military school. I sought out Lena whose eyes were trained on Rebecca, looking calm but clearly ready to speak if she needed to.

  “What policies are you talking about?” Terry finally asked.

  “She’s suspending kids for being tardy and for speaking out in class. She’s even suspending kids for pranks they play on each other.”

  Terry glanced at me as if I’d take over. I was the member with the most objectivity when it came to policy issues. Since I didn’t have a kid that could be caught up in these rules, they often looked to me to comment.

  I looked again at Lena before addressing Rebecca. “I take it Jaden has been suspended?”

  A low chuckle went through the crowd before some of them realized that their kids were in the same pool. Rebecca often acted like she starred in her own version of Real Housewives of Aspen. Dramatic wouldn’t do her personality justice. Mess with her son and you’d find your car scratched by one of her many diamond rings.

  “Not only has he been suspended, Glory, but it’s going on his record. He’s been forced to sit in a prison cell for five days.”

  “What?” Mitch, the owner of a car dealership in town, leaned onto his forearms, showing interest for the first time in many months.