I cry shamelessly, not caring that my colleagues can see me feeling defeated.
Two hours later I'm at Samaritano Hospital. There's no one from Klaus's family to call. His dad, Chico Schneider, is on a honeymoon cruise in the French Riviera with his fourth wife. His mom, Débora, still hasn't been discharged since her last plastic surgery. His sister, Úrsula, hasn't spoken with him in two years.
I go into the hospital's ICU feeling sad, devastated for my friend, it's depressing to be alone in this type of situations. I introduce myself to Dr. Jacó Freitas, a trauma specialist, and the news he gives me are not good.
"Nice to meet you, Mark. We were able to stabilize Klaus, but he slipped into a coma. He's had two CT's, showing that he has fractures at T11 and T12, besides a severe compression of the spinal cord. We’re getting ready to perform thoracic spine surgery. His situation is precarious, is there any family member that we can call?”
I shake my head.
"No, it's just his friends. He has an older sister, whom I'm going to call, but I'm not sure she'll come. You understand, right? Family issues,” I tell him, embarrassed by friend’s unhappy situation. Ever since Úrsula came out as lesbian, the whole family rejected her. Even though Klaus hadn't taken a hard stance either way, his silence had hurt Úrsula.
"Okay. As soon as we're done with the surgery I'll let you know."
"I'll be right here."
"The only reason I don't invite you to the surgery it's because I can see how shaken you are, so it wouldn't do any good for either you or him."
I nod and Jacó walks away.
Steve has arrived at the hospital, along with Frankie and Felipe, Klaus's business man. I go over to Felipe and we hug each other, we're old friends. Him, Klaus, and me. He looks at me with his usual frightened eyes and I try to reassure him.
"He's strong, he'll come through."
Felipe asks me what the doctor said, and I tell him, trying for a hopeful tone.
"His medical team is good, he's in good hands."
I excuse myself and walk distracted across the hospital, I stop next to the chapel and decide to go in. I sit on the last bench and talk with God the same way I talk with my friends. It's true, even though I'm a man of science, my parents were Jewish, and I'm a religious man. I believe in God and I know He'll get my friend out of this mess. Maybe taking him out of the car like that saved him, but it could’ve also worsened his spinal fracture. No matter the outcome of this surgery, I believe I did the right thing. If I hadn’t gotten him out of the car, he would’ve burned to death. I would've never forgiven myself if I had stood by while he burned, but I also know that if everything goes to shit and he loses body movement, I won't be able to forgive myself either. Let God's will be done, Klaus's life and the future of our friendship are now in fate's hands.
CHAPTER 2
TWO MONTHS LATER
I open my eyes slowly; a white glaring light almost blinds me. I try again but everything still unfocused, as if I'm seeing the world through foggy glass. A man dressed in white enters my vision and I can hear him talking with me, but my tongue is too heavy to answer back.
"Klaus, can you hear me? If you can hear me, blink twice."
I blink twice and he smiles. He's a middle-aged man, with a beaked nose and glasses. He calls someone else and a younger man steps into the room.
"Are you feeling well?" He asks. "Can you talk?"
"Hurts," I mumble, my voice a fragile thread. "My head hurts."
"I understand, sir. That's because of the edema you suffered, along with the medication that can leave you feeling dizzy. But you should be feeling better in a little bit, more cheerful. I'm Dr. Jacó Freitas and next to me it's Dr. Danilo Guedes.
My head is pounding, and in seconds my memories rush back at me, leaving me feeling even dizzier, scenes unfurling in my head, like a spinning kaleidoscope. I remember the race, shit! The race... I get agitated, speaking louder than I should. Fuck! I was five laps from winning. Why did that asshole Lewis have to hit me with his piece of shit car and take me out of the race? When I get my hands on him, I'm going to punch his teeth in.
My eyes feel heavy and I close them. I don't know for how long I nap, it takes me a while to regain consciousness, but now everything is clearer, my sight and my memory. Despair bowls me over.
"The race, I lost. Shit, I lost. I need to leave. I have to get out of here."
I try to get out of bed but can't control my legs. They don't listen to my brain commands to move. I turn to Dr. Jacó.
"I want to move my legs and I can't," I say wild-eyed. "What's happening to me?"
Dr. Jacó looks at Dr. Danilo with a closed off expression, then sits at the foot of my bed, talking quietly.
"Klaus, take it easy. You were in an accident. You suffered fractures in two vertebrae and a severe spine compression, a very serious situation. You were extremely lucky, and your spinal cord wasn't severed. There was some complication during your medical rescue, but the surgery, which I performed, went as well as expected. You've been in a coma for two months. You can't move your legs because for now your lower limbs are paralyzed, but all test show that it's very likely that it's reversible, though we can't be a 100% certain right now. I need you to remain calm and..."
"What do you mean calm? You’re asking me to remain calm, am I hearing it right? You just told me that I'm paraplegic and you’re asking for calm? Are you fucking serious doctor? Or is this like some kind of bad joke?"
"Please, remain calm, Klaus, I never said the paralysis forever. I don't want to be glib about this and promise you results that may not happen. We may not be able to reverse your paralysis, but the tests were encouraging. Let's hold on to that. You'll have to work hard to have a good quality of life and walk again as soon as possible."
I hit the bed's rail. My patience hanging by a thread.
"How long is 'as soon as possible'? Just freaking tell me, I want to know how long it's going to take me to walk again."
Jacó doesn't say anything and Danilo takes over.
"Let's not cling to time frames, Klaus," Danilo says quietly. "What matters is that you have a good chance. But it will all depend on your body, how it recovers from the trauma. We still have to run a series of tests and check on the extent of the trauma, and it's not all depended on us. A lot of the work is going to be yours. PT is going to be essential, the key to getting back to normal. Besides, you'll have to help us. You'll have to believe and work hard so the small chance becomes a reality. Have faith, Klaus."
I tried to change position in the bed but my body doesn't move.
CURSE IT, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME.
I lose my cool, a terrifying pain hits me like an avalanche, I deep feeling of helplessness, as if I'm free-falling knowing there's nothing stopping me from splatting on the floor. Tears start running down my face. I had the world in my hands. I was faster than the wind, no one could stop me, no one could beat me. I think about my career. It's over. My life is over...
I'm hyperventilating. Breathe, Klaus, breathe. It's just a panic attack. I try breathing in and can't, my tears falling freely now, like the open doors of a dam. I'm hiccupping, unable to feel ashamed that the doctors can see me cry. I need to breathe, I need to breathe... Two nurses come in running and one of the gets a needle ready. They're going to put me out, I know it, that's what these assholes are going to do. I've become a flesh and blood game, a shitty piece of meat, a puppet in the hands of these assholes, they can do whatever they want to my body.
I can't get away from the needle, I punch my lifeless legs, I slap my damned thighs, my arms hurt, and the noise of my punches make hitting my flesh makes me even angrier. Why don't they just remove those useless pieces of shit already? I keep punching the worthless dead piece of meat, while the doctors try holding my arms. But I still have strength in my arms, I punch the fucking doctor with my left hand and Danilo stumbles, falling on the floor. A third nurse comes into my room, trying to stop me, but I squirm an
d roar with pain and anger.
Why won't they just kill me? What a mess! Take me out of this bed, I need to get back to my car, my career, my life... I had a life, and it was a good one. What now?
Faith. This son of a bitch talks about faith? Where was God that he didn't see my car rolling over? That He didn't stop me from losing my fucking legs? Where was He? Drinking margaritas in some Cancun beach while my life goes down the drain?
This must be fate's bad joke.
One of the nurses, a huge black guy, leans over me.
"Calm down, my friend!" He says roughly. "I don't want to hurt you. You're going to sleep now, calm down."
Sleep, I'm sleepy. My eyes close slowly and I think about my legs, my legs, and darkness takes me over again.
CHAPTER 3
ANAHÍ SARAÍBA
It was great moving from Matogrosso do Sul to Rio de Janeiro. I feel ready to reach new heights, and the job proposal I got after I finished my specialization in physical therapy was irresistibly tempting.
Tempting because of the high salary that was offered, the opportunity that I have of ally my knowledge of sports and physical therapy. The possibility of having academics and popular culture walking hand in hand in harmony for the recovery of a patient. But, mostly, what motivates me is the huge challenge that I know I'll always have to face.
My parents and grandparents were Indigenous, I feel honored of being a part of the Terena people and I learned a lot about the power of leaves, seeds, and mankind's connection to nature and the power that connection can exert in a patient's recovery.
My college friend, and with whom I went through specialization, Sara Cardoso was the one that suggested that I accepted her fiancé's, Felipe Porto, proposition to care for his client. I saw the opportunity to prove to myself that I'm a capable physical therapist.
"I couldn't accept Felipe's proposition, because if I did, I would kill Klaus with his pillow. We hate each other, and I'd prefer to keep my distance. But for you, it seems like the perfect chance to put your knowledge to practice and, as a plus, gain a kick-ass professional experience. Just think of how known you'll get treating the famous Klaus Schneider. This would open the doors for other top-of-the-line athletes."
Sara talked so much that I decided to have a conversation with Felipe and hear what he had to say. I went to some meetings in his office and, after long hours discussing the details, I took the job. I signed a year's contract to be responsible for the recovery of Marussia's driver Klaus Schneider.
I read and re-read the contract and the provisions are very strict about me quitting before the date agreed upon, besides making mandatory for me to live in his house during treatment, and my schedule, which will be very tiring.
We'll have PT sessions every day of the week, having the weekend off. On Saturday, I'll have to do alternative activities with him. Now that I finished delivering the signed contract to Felipe, I wonder, what does he mean by alternative activities? Felipe wasn't very clear about what those entailed. I'll figure it out later.
"Now we're in agreement about all the legal details and your exclusive dedication to Klaus's treatment, I need you to start as soon as possible."
"I'd also like to meet him soon, as I need to work up session's plans and have him get comfortable with me, since we'll be spending so much time together."
Felipe gave me a serious look.
"Anahí, I'm not going to beat around the bush about Klaus's real psychological condition. The medical team is keeping him there because his mental status is critical."
"What do you mean, critical?" I asked, concerned.
Felipe clears his throat and mercilessly passes me the hot potato.
"Critical as in fucked up, completely fucked up. He's totally apathetic, the psychiatrist fears he's going to try some shit if he has the chance."
Suicide? Damn...
"And why haven't you hired a psychologist yet? It's important that he's monitored by a psychologist, specially at the start."
"I know, Anahí, but he's not accepting it. It was hard enough to convince him to do the PT, let alone a psychologist. You're going to have to improvise, dear, and help him out. At least for now."
"I'm not a psychologist, Felipe, I'm a physical therapist, I can't improvise. That's not how I work. This is serious, you need to figure it out."
"Yes, Anahí. All I'm asking is that you talk with him, let him open up. Maybe he'll get better. I'm going to hire a psychologist, and if you know one you trust, I'd be thankful."
I nod and we finish our conversation setting the date I'm to meet my patient.
"Klaus gets discharged tomorrow. Are you free at two?"
"Yes, tomorrow is fine. I'll be at the hospital at two o'clock on the dot."
Why am I fussing with my clothes? I'm being ridiculous. I'm just meeting a patient, that's all. However, the need to pass through Klaus's sieve is bigger than any rational thought. I smooth my knee-length yellow dress skirt and decide to take the elastic band from my hair, letting it flow free. I'm wearing comfortable trainers and my moriche[2] palm seed necklace, a gift from my mom.
I wait outside the bedroom and I hear a hoarse voice complaining with a nurse.
"Here are your painkillers, Mr. Klaus."
"I don't want them now, leave me alone."
"If the doctor finds out you haven't tak–"
"Do me a favor, my dear, and tell him to take that pill and shove it up his ass. Can you do that for me?"
I shrink in my dress, is the man a patient or Freddy Krueger's son? The anger with which he speaks to the nurse, it seems as he's about to cut her into little pieces. But I'm not a shrinking violet. Felipe knocks and speaks quickly with Klaus, I hear him speaking loudly enough for me to hear.
"And is it going to do any good to tell you I don't want a fucking physical therapist? Am I still allowed to have free will? No, Felipe, I lost the power to do what I want the day of the damned accident. So, let's get this over with, I want to go home. Send her in." Felipe opens the door and signals me in.
I'd seen him on TV, gossip magazines, and women's magazines covers, but seeing him in person, face to face, is even more impressing. Even though he's physically battered by his days in the hospital, the masculine aura around him is evident, almost tangible. His searching deep blue eyes look into me steadily, as if could see inside my soul, turn me inside out... I stop at the door, looking at him without saying a word. To say that he's gorgeous is obvious, but it's not only the harmony of his lines, the primitive rustic quality of his face; it's something more, like there's an unsettling effortless magnetism around him with no a logical explanation. You simply look at this man once and after your eyes meet his, you can't ever stop looking.
His bed is halfway up, so he can look me directly in the eyes, face to face. He looks at Felipe, thundering, suddenly irritated.
"What kind of horse-shit is this, Felipe? You brought me a healer now?"
Felipe stutters and apologizes for Klaus's rudeness, but he's not paying attention to what Felipe says. So I speak slowly, feeling my face burn with rage, the blood pumping fast in my veins.
"Physiotherapist, with an emphasis in sport PT. Do you know what that is, Mr. Klaus?"
Klaus’s eyes are sharp daggers, his lips thinned.
"Yes, I know what that means. I don't think you do, or are you telling me that they teach about sport rehabilitation in your tribe?"
"We've to learn a little bit of everything, but I learned in the same place as all other academics, in college. I graduated with honors from São Paulo University, Mr. Klaus."
Klaus swallows and takes his eyes from mine, speaking harshly with Felipe, as if I'm not there in front of him.
"Take this girl out of here, I'm not in the mood in taking part in any pajelança[3].
I hold my purse closer to me and turn around.
"That's funny, I thought you'd be in a hurry. But apparently I was wrong."
He raised one eyebrow, looking at me and says sarcasticall
y, "In a hurry to do what, if I may ask?"
"In a hurry to have your life in your own hands, to have a little more freedom, quality of life, independence. But it seems like you're satisfied with the way things stand, right? Thank you for everything, Felipe, but I'll be going."
Before I reached the door, he yells for me to stop.
"Wait. What's your name again, girl?"
"Anahí Saraíba, sir."
"One chance, that's all I promise," Klaus tells Felipe, without looking at me. "Okay, Felipe?"
Felipe nods, so Klaus looks between us.
"You two go see about getting me discharged, I want to leave as fast as possible," he says moodily.
I leave the bedroom thinking that I’ll have a mountain to go climb. Klaus is going to be the typical problem-patient, but if he thinks I'm the kind of woman that bows her head and runs at the first frown, at the first yell, ha! He doesn't know the strength, the persistence of the Terena people. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, but I’ll break through the resistance against me, or my name isn't Anahí Saraíba.
CHAPTER 4
KLAUS SCHNEIDER
Home, sweet home. After so long hospitalized, that maxim would've been perfect if I still had an apartment.
What I see around me is an empty shell of dead walls that remind me of a house. I look at the walls and my Romero Brito's paintings, the sculptures I brought from my trip to Spain, the couch, the rugs, the dining and living room tables, the fridge, the stove, the freezer, the beds, the towel set and... even my damn bathroom golden faucets. Everything, literally everything, was taken.
As soon as the living room door opened and I rolled the wheelchair in, I was shocked. Felipe and I stared at the empty room and were speechless when it dawned on us the sudden theft the house had suffered.
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