The First Stone

by Don Aker

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends, Reef?” Alex asked elaborately. He tossed his head like those women in shampoo commercials, his long blond hair cascading over his face.

  Reef stood up awkwardly, and so did the others. “Guys, this is Alex. Alex, this is Scar, Jink and Bigger.”

  “You certainly are,” Alex said, his words an exaggerated lisp as he dangled his hand toward Bigger. Bigger didn’t move, simply stared at the hand as though it were a separate living thing that had crawled out from under some rock and now floated disembodied in the air.

  Reef’s face burned. Leave it to Alex to put on a fuck-in’ performance.

  “Nice to meet you. Alex.”

  Reef was grateful for Scar, who took Alex’s hand and shook it. Jink watched the exchange as if mesmerized, then gave Reef a hard, questioning stare.

  At that moment, Greg Matheson came around from the back of the house. “Guys, sorry to cut this short, but my wife just called. My six year old fell off her bike and chowdered her chin. I’m gonna run you home on my way to Outpatients.”

  Reef released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  Jink was still staring at Reef when he said, “S’okay. We was about finished here anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Bigger agreed. Quickly.

  “Glad you could make it, guys,” Reef said. His comment sounded ridiculous even to him. Something out of “I Dream of Jeannie.”

  They nodded, then went down the steps two at a time and folded themselves into the back seat of Matheson’s car. Scar gave him a quick kiss and said, “Next time, call me.” Turning, she hurried down the steps, then looked back as she was getting into the car. “Nice to meet you, Alex,” she said.

  The Escort seemed to churn as it started, backfired twice, emitted a plume of blue-black smoke and then coughed down the driveway. This time Reef didn’twatch it go, instead opening the door and heading into the house.

  “I really don’t think your friends liked me,” Alex called after him, his voice theatrically melodious.

  Reef said nothing, just climbed the stairs toward his room. But every footstep on the oak treads conveyed an unmistakable Fuck you!

  Chapter 17

  “So when?” Leeza asked.

  Dr. Dan grunted unintelligibly to acknowledge he’d heard her, but he continued examining her without comment.

  “Well?” Leeza said again a moment later, her impatience getting the better of her.

  Her mother clucked her tongue softly. Don’t be so difficult, her eyes said.

  Leeza frowned, turned again to the doctor. “Well?” she repeated.

  “We’ll see,” he said finally.

  “That’s what you said yesterday!” she snapped, resenting the whine that had crept into her voice yet unable to dispel it. “And the day before that.” He had told her during her first week at the rehab that her fixators would stay in for at least a month to ensure her fractures knit together correctly, and it was the phrase “at least” that she worried about now. She knew it was necessary, but the network of metal pins and rods was excruciating, limiting Leeza’s range of motion and preventing her from getting into a comfortable position nomatter what she tried. And if she did happen to find a position that was less painful than others, the small relief was short-lived because nurses came in several times a day to change the dressings around her pin-sites to keep them free of infection. “Come on,” she pleaded, “you must have some idea.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “Then what about my catheter? Can you tell me that much?”

  Concluding his examination, the doctor turned to her. “Leeza, there are no guarantees. Every patient is different. You can’t rush your rehabilitation. Any shortcuts now would only complicate matters later on. We just have to take it one day at a time.”

  Don’t rush your rehab. Now there’s a bumper sticker, Leeza thought sarcastically, the familiar wave of dread settling over her once more. Getting the cast off her arm a few days after she’d arrived at the center had given her an emotional boost, but that had soon faded. The only thing that managed to push back the depression constantly weighing on her now was her anticipation that perhaps today, tomorrow, even the next day would be her last wearing her fixators. But Dr. Dan refused to give her any assurance that his at-least-a-month timeline might not extend to five weeks. Or six. She squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to keep her disappointment from spilling out.

  Her mother leaned over and put a hand on hers. “Now, Leeza, like the doctor says, you don’t want to rush things.”

  No, that’s where you’re wrong, Leeza wanted to scream. I do want to rush things. I’m tired of fixators. I’m tired of physio. I’m tired of this bed, this room, my wheelchair. I’m tired of eating food I hate. I’m tired of every goddamn part of every goddamn day in this place! But most of all, I’m tired of pretending to be strong. I did that enough for Ellen. I can’t do it for you, too!

  But, of course, she didn’t say any of those things. Instead, she just nodded, smiled, forced back the tears and allowed herself to slide deeper into melancholy.

  “You did a great job with Stephen the other day, Reef,” said Carly. “He doesn’t always respond as well to strangers as he did with you. In fact, some of the patients in the unit commented on how quiet he was that afternoon.”

  Reef nodded noncommittally. He certainly wasn’t there because he wanted to be. But each day was one day closer to the end of this shit. If nothing else, there was that to celebrate.

  “I’ve got another patient I’d like you to meet,” the nurse explained.

  Reef shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. He had, in fact, hoped he’d be assigned to the vegetable again. It was weird being in the same room with an adult who drooled and pissed his pants, but he actually preferred that to having to make conversation with someone he didn’t know. That Brett person hadn’t been hard to talk to, but she certainly wasn’t like the rest of the patients in this place. His skin crawled as he watched them lurch and stagger down the hall like zombies from Night of the Living Dead, one of those old movies he’d seen on late-night cable when he was living with the Barkers.

  “We’ve got a girl here about the same age as you who’s been having a rough time of it. I thought I’d get you to visit with her for a bit.”

  Reef grimaced. “Don’t she have family or friends to do that?”

  “Her mother is in every day, but there aren’t many young people who come. A couple friends came at first, but they haven’t been around for a while. That happens sometimes. Young people find this a difficult place to be.”

  No shit, Reef thought. “So what happened to her?”

  “Car accident,” the nurse explained.

  Reef’s mind suddenly conjured the mangled Subaru he’d seen in the courtroom photo. “What’s her name?” he asked uneasily, thinking again of the girl he’d read about in the newspapers following the accident. Elizabeth Something. He didn’t recall her last name. In fact, he’d tried not to think about the accident since the hearing, deliberately turning his mind away from the event and the emotions it stirred in him. Keeping busy on the greenhouse had helped during the day, but in the evening, when things quieted down, it was easier for the memories to return.

  Sometimes they came when he was watching TV, a car crash or a courtroom scene invoking recollections that bloomed suddenly in his head. Sometimes they came in dreams, nightmares that left him sitting on the side of the bed dripping sweat. Elizabeth Something. He’d never seen a picture of her, but he didn’t need a photo of her parents to remember them, to remember the way her mother had pointed at him outside the courthouse, cursing the judge’s ruling, then cursing him. Suddenly the newspaper photo of the girl’s parents swam into memory, their name printed beneath their angry faces. Morrison. Elizabeth Morrison.

  “Leeza Hemming,” said the nurse. “I think you’ll like her.”

  “I need to leave early today, Leeza,” Diane said. “I have a new client who’s opening up an office downtow
n. Wants a completely new look, and I told him I’d meet him there this afternoon with some preliminary sketches.” She gathered her things and leaned over to kiss her daughter’s forehead.

  Leeza smiled, feeling none of the warmth she pretended. She was glad her mother was getting back into her work. Glad she’d be busier. Leeza was tired of the false front she had to wear when her mother came. At least with Brett she could be herself. Her mother, on the other hand, was always looking for reassurance.

  Sleeping well? Eating more? Feeling better? And, of course, her favorite: Is it getting any easier? Like any of this could ever get easier. Leeza smiled—and slipped more deeply into depression each day.

  Her mother continued brightly, “You should see how the previous leaseholder decorated the place. Lots of wall coverings and area rugs with zigzag patterns, but then there’s this weird lace hanging everywhere.”

  “Sounds like a cross between Santa Fe and Victoria’s Secret,” Brett commented from the other side of the room.

  Diane laughed aloud, and Leeza could tell she was glad her daughter had such an exuberant roommate. What fun she must think we have when everyone’s gone, Leeza thought. A couple of goddamn Girl Guides sharing campfire stories. Christ. She forced another smile, grimaced when she found herself grinding her teeth.

  “That’s really more accurate than you think, Brett,” Diane explained. “The business was supposed to offer investment counseling. Turns out the owner was running an escort service.”

  “Seems like a good combination,” Brett observed wryly. “I imagine an escort could suggest some pretty interesting places to put someone’s money.”

  Diane laughed again. “Good point. But the police didn’t feel the same way. The owner goes on trial sometime this fall. Meanwhile, the man who’s leasing the place now wants a complete overhaul.” Sheturned to Leeza. “It’s going to be a huge job, honey. I’ll really be busy the next couple weeks.”

  There was a moment’s silence as Leeza, caught off guard, stared blankly at her mother. She’d been thinking about her next morphine shot, calculating in her head how much time before it arrived, imagined its numb embrace. “That’s good,” she said, wondering without caring what could possibly be good.

  “Your mother’s a neat person,” Brett said after Diane had left. When Leeza didn’t respond, she continued, “You ever help her with her decorating?”

  A moment passed. “No.”

  “Ever think you’d like to try it?”

  Another moment passed. “No.”

  “Ever wanna try the escort business?”

  If Brett expected a reaction—a laugh maybe, or even a grin—she was disappointed. Leeza ignored her, returned to counting minutes. Seconds. Was both surprised and pleased when she willed Carly to appear in the doorway.

  “Hello, you two.” the nurse said. “You’ve got company.”

  Leeza heard Brett chuckle. “Just what the doctor ordered.” her roommate said.

  Chapter 18

  Leeza could have killed Carly.

  It was bad enpugh that she had to endure the embarrassment of having her catheter changed four times a day, the agony of the impossible tasks Val asked her to perform during physio, the continued ambiguity of Dr. Dan’s assessment of her progress, her roommate’s bubbly “Cheer-up-it-could-be-worse” attitude and absolutely everything else in this godforsaken place. But this. This was too much.

  “Reef,” said Carly, “this is Leeza Hemming. Leeza, meet Reef Kennedy. He’s our newest volunteer.”

  Leeza’s face was on fire. Lying in her bed, she was sure she couldn’t possibly look worse. Her hair was a mess, despite her mother’s efforts to brush it. She hadn’t worn makeup since the day of the accident, having found it too painful to apply it herself and too humiliating to allow anyone else to put it on for her. The nightgown she wore—at her mother’s insistence, because Leeza saw no reason to put herself through the agony of dressing—was at least two years old and covered withridiculous images of cuddly bears dancing on puffy white clouds. And, of course, there were her fixators, which she’d left uncovered when Dr. Dan had finished examining her leg.

  “Hi,” she mumbled.

  “Hi. Reef,” Brett chirped. “Back again. I see. Glutton for punishment.”

  Reef looked as awkward as he sounded. “I guess,” he said.

  “Reef’s agreed to help out in the unit, Leeza,” Carly explained. “I was wondering if you could show him around a bit.”

  Leeza tried to freeze the nurse with her glacial stare. “I thought Brett already did that.”

  “Only part of it,” Brett said. “He spent most of the time keeping the sixth floor safe from wheelchair jockeys.”

  “Full-time job,” Leeza muttered.

  The nurse laughed. “You know it.” she agreed. “So what’s it gonna be, Leeza? Care to help Reef here complete his orientation?”

  There was, of course, no way she could refuse. Doing so would have been rude, and although Leeza hadn’t been a slave to courtesy these past few weeks—Brett could certainly attest to that—there was something in the guy’s face that suggested he was as unhappy as she was to be there, which made her warm to him a bit.

  “I’ll need some help getting up,” she said.

  “Sure,” Carly said. “Reef, could you wait in the hall for a minute?”

  “No problem.” He sauntered out.

  It took, of course, much longer than a minute for Leeza to get up and mobile. She had become adept at maneuvering her body down the plywood slide into her wheelchair, but the pain that caught her whenever she moved still took the wind out of her, made her pause to catch her breath and brace for the next onslaught. Dr. Dan had begun to decrease her dosage of morphine, and the result of this was never more apparent than when she transferred herself from bed to wheelchair or back again. She was trembling when she’d finally completed the process.

  “Glad you could do this for me,” Carly said. “You’re a lifesaver. I have too much to do to add tour guide to my duties.”

  “I’m just sorry I have physio now.” Brett said elaborately, “or I’d be more than happy to take him off your hands.”

  “I’m sure,” Leeza said as she absently adjusted her robe, her response clearly suggesting that even physio was preferable to this new task that awaited her.

  “Look at it this way,” Brett said. “How often do good-lookin’ guys come round askin’ to take you for a spin?”

  Leeza shot her roommate the most malevolent glare she could muster, and Brett’s grin vanished. “Hey. don’t blame me,” she continued. “I wasn’t the one who brought him here.”

  Somehow Leeza wasn’t so sure of that. A look had passed between Brett and Carly that suggested Brett might have been more instrumental in Reef’s appearance than she let on.

  Well, if they thought she was going to put on a happy face for some stranger who’d clearly been coerced into taking her off their hands, they had another think coming.

  “So you’re Reef,” Leeza said after Carly had pushed her out into the hallway and then disappeared into another room.

  “Mmm.” he said. He leaned against the wall, one foot crossed in front of the other and his thumbs hooked casually into the belt loops of his jeans. “And you’re Leeza.”

  They both turned to watch a nurse roll a cart filled with medications down the hallway, the clink of containers providing an almost musical counterpoint to their awkward silence. When the nurse turned the corner and the unintentional rhythm of the cart had vanished, the two teenagers turned to each other again.

  Surprisingly, Leeza found she shared Brett’s assessment of the volunteer. Wearing a T-shirt, he was, indeed, a “good-lookin’ guy.” His upper arms rippledinto broad shoulders, and his chiseled face and dark coloring reminded her of the young Greek men whose pictures filled the decorating magazine her mother had brought by earlier that week. The theme of the issue had been the neo-Mediterranean style that was currently the rage in the homes of the rich and famous,
but Leeza was sure the women who bought the magazine were more impressed by the male Mediterranean models than the furniture they sat on. She suddenly felt even more frumpy than she looked, and she shifted nervously in her wheelchair.

  “So, uh …” she began, then faltered, regretting she’d ever agreed to this. “What do you want me to show you?”

  The young man blinked. “I don’t, uh …” Now he seemed to be the one faltering. “I ain’t sure.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the dark curls rearranging themselves as soon as he removed his hand. “What do you wanna show me?”

  Leeza raised an eyebrow. “Depends on what you haven’t seen yet, doesn’t it?”

  The young man’s eyes widened and, clearing his throat, he glanced around the hallway. “Well, I, uh … I’ve seen plenty already.”

  Leeza looked down, horrified to find that her robe had parted, revealing not only her fixators but also an unobstructed view of her crotch and her catheter, which were no longer covered by cuddly bears and puffy clouds. Her slide on the varnished plywood hadhiked her nightgown nearly to her waist, something neither she nor Carly had noticed when she’d tugged her robe around her. And because of her fixators, she was not wearing panties.

  If her face was on fire before, it was positively volcanic now. “Oh. My. God,” she moaned, yanking the edges of her robe together, then burying her face in her hands.

  “There’s one thing,” the young man said after a moment.

  Ears ringing with embarrassment, Leeza did not look up. “Obviously,” she muttered into her now-covered lap.

  “No,” he said, and he made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a gargle. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Peering through her fingers, Leeza could see he was trying hard not to laugh.

  “Not that,” he said, and he made the noise again. “The lounge.”

  She had no idea what he meant. “Lounge?”

  “Yeah. Brett said somethin’ about each floor havin’ one.” His eyes shifted from Leeza to the wall behind her and back, and she could tell he was being careful not to look in her eyes. “I ain’t seen yours yet,” he said.