A Wild Ride

by Andrew Grey

  “He’ll call when he needs it,” Dante said, and Ryan closed his eyes again, trying to block out all sensation so that maybe the pain would go away. It seemed to work, so he kept his eyes closed.

  “Am I ever going to feel normal again?” Ryan asked. “Will I be able to take care of myself, or am I going to need to be waited on by someone for the rest of my life? Will I be able to live my life? And will these headaches ever go away?”

  The doctor rested his hand on Ryan’s arm, and Ryan opened his eyes. “Yes, you’ll feel normal again, but it will take time. The headaches should dissipate with time, and you should be able to lead a pretty normal life once you give yourself a chance to heal. You just woke up late yesterday. Give yourself a bit of time.”

  Ryan closed his eyes again. “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Good. Now relax. That will help the headaches to go away. I’ll have the nurse bring something for you in a little while. Stop worrying—you’ll be just fine.” The doctor left the room, and Ryan tried to concentrate on anything other than the way his head felt. Eventually the nurse came in, and after checking him over, she injected something into his IV. The pain floated away.

  “Dante, you really should go home,” Ryan said, turning his head slightly and opening his eyes to look at Dante. “Gramps needs you. The ranch needs you.”

  “You need me too,” Dante said.

  “No, I’m fine. Gramps needs you. Go on home,” Ryan said.

  “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Dante countered, and Ryan wanted to argue with him, but the drugs took over and he closed his eyes, floating on white cotton wings.

  THINGS stayed like that for over a week. Ryan would wake up and be fine for a while, and then his head would pound like hell. The nurse would come in to give him something, and Ryan would be out of it again. Slowly he realized that the amount of time between his bouts of pain was beginning to lengthen and the headaches weren’t as bad. “You should go home,” Ryan told Dante every time he floated away on pain meds, and yet whenever he opened his eyes, Dante was there.

  On some level that comforted him, but it also highlighted his complete helplessness. “Are you hungry?” Dante asked, and without Ryan answering, a spoon appeared at his mouth and Ryan opened. The potatoes were bland as hell, but it was what he could keep down. Ryan tried sitting up, but the minute he began moving his head, the pain came back.

  “It’s okay. I can help you,” Dante said, and Ryan wanted to cry. He was a person in control of things, his life, his work, but now he had no control over anything. He balled his fist and lightly pounded the mattress next to him. Dante brought another bite to his mouth, but Ryan turned his head.

  “Let me do it,” Ryan said, and Dante handed him the spoon.

  Ryan managed to get a bite on the spoon, and he even got half the food to his mouth, the other half dropping down his front. Dante picked up what fell, and Ryan growled. “Please just go home and take care of Gramps. I can take care of myself.” Ryan jabbed at his plate and came up with another mound of potatoes, but very little of them reached his mouth. The movements were a bit jerky, but at least he could feed himself—well, mostly.

  “Fine,” Dante said. “I’ll see you later this evening.” Dante leaned over the bed and lightly kissed Ryan’s forehead. The bandages had been removed and the sutures taken out.

  “You don’t have to come back. I can take care of myself,” Ryan said, and Dante paused as he walked past the foot of the bed. Ryan attempted another bite of food and mostly succeeded this time. Dante didn’t say anything, and Ryan watched him pass through the door and then disappear from sight. Ryan went back to eating and then gave up, throwing the spoon across the room. Of course, the movement made his head ache, and he closed his eyes to try to get the pain to ease.

  “Honey,” his mother said, and Ryan opened his eyes. He must have slept for a while, because his mother and father had arrived for the day, and they looked like they’d packed for the long haul. They’d arrived a week earlier and spent most days with him. “Where’s your… friend?” his mother asked softly as she opened her bag to pull out her yarn and knitting needles and his father pulled over another chair. His mother knitted hats by the ton to support the church women’s league. She had for almost as long as Ryan could remember.

  “He left,” Ryan said. His parents knew he was gay, of course, but they never talked about it and refused to acknowledge it in any way. So Ryan had “friends.” He supposed it could be worse. They didn’t talk about it, but they also hadn’t disowned him. But he knew they were disappointed, even if they didn’t talk about that either. They were great about ignoring what they didn’t want to see or didn’t want to deal with.

  “Did you eat? Do you need help?” His mother set her knitting aside and began looking over the tray. She picked up a fork and looked at him expectantly.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Ryan said. He didn’t want anyone to help him, and he certainly wasn’t going to be fed by his mommy like a baby.

  “Your mother and I need to leave later today,” his father said. “I wish we could stay longer, but….”

  “I know, Dad,” Ryan said, some of his anger and frustration slipping away. “You can only miss so many Sunday sermons.” There were priorities, after all, and his father’s was to his Baptist congregation. Ryan knew his parents cared about him, there was no doubt about that, but they didn’t understand him. He knew his being gay was beyond their understanding. Their beliefs were set, and Ryan highly doubted they would ever change. Sometimes he wondered if they were even capable of change. At least after their initial conversation, they hadn’t continued insisting he was going to burn in hell. So maybe that was change for them. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m getting better, and I’ll call you and Mom to let you know how I am.”

  To his surprise, his father stood up and slowly approached the bed. He leaned over and gently gave Ryan a hug. Ryan waited for the pain to bloom in his head the way it did when he moved, but this time there was nothing. “I love you, son,” his father whispered, and Ryan tried to remember the last time his father had said those words to him. It had been a while. His father believed in the image of a stern minister who led his flock away from temptation, and that often meant not showing weakness.

  “I love you too, Dad,” Ryan said, hugging his father back. There were so many things he wanted to say, and as the hug ended and his father moved away, Ryan opened his mouth to say them, but the stern expression he’d come to know so well slid back on his father’s face, and Ryan stopped, leaving more unsaid.

  Then it was his mother’s turn. She set her knitting back in her bag and leaned over the bed, giving him a gentle hug. “Please take care of yourself and don’t rush. I want you to get well.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said as he hugged her. “You and Dad take care of each other, and I’ll call you.”

  “We’ll be praying for you,” she said, and Ryan thanked her. “You know, this friend of yours, the one who rides bulls? He and I had a nice talk the other day, and, well….” She straightened up and glanced at his dad. “If you’re going to be… that way… then….” His mother’s voice faltered. “Well, he seems like a nice man,” she said, and Ryan knew that was as close to an endorsement and acknowledgement of his “lifestyle” as he was ever likely to get. There was so much meaning wrapped up in her words, or maybe it was Ryan who wanted to attach extra meaning. He wasn’t quite sure. Then she hugged him once again before gathering her things like a pack mule. His mother never packed light to go anywhere.

  “Good-bye, son,” his father said. “We’ll call you when we get home.” They lingered for a few seconds in the doorway and then they were gone. For the first time in quite a few years, Ryan was truly sad to see them go. They traveled to see him every now and then, and each visit had been an ordeal of self-righteousness, prayer, and included at least one litany about what he was doing wrong in his life. But this visit had been different, and he felt closer to them than he had in quite a while. Maybe, just maybe
, whatever had changed between them could be built upon.

  Ryan closed his eyes and settled back into bed in the now quiet room. He was alone—something that hadn’t happened much the entire time he was in in the hospital. Ryan turned on the television and tuned it to one of the financial news stations, but within seconds the rolling stock quotes and the constant talking made his head throb, and he switched the channel before turning it off all together. It was just too much. He tried sleeping, but he’d done so much of that lately. Anyway, as soon as the television was off, his head felt better. He wanted something to do now that he was beginning to feel better, but he had nothing. Eventually the nurse came in, and Ryan smiled at the break in the quiet. “You look like you’re feeling better,” she said.

  “Yeah. My head doesn’t hurt like it did. Do you think I can try standing up?” Ryan asked.

  “Maybe. Let me ask the doctor what he thinks, and if he approves, I’ll be back to help you,” she said. “But you wanting to move is a good sign.” She smiled at him and went about her work. “Where’s your rugged friend?” she asked, looking at the empty chair that Dante usually used.

  “He went home,” Ryan said levelly. He left out the part about how he’d been telling Dante to leave for days and he’d finally taken him up on it. “He has a ranch to run and he also takes care of his grandfather.”

  The nurse straightened his bedding. “It looked like he was also taking good care of you.” She continued her work. “You see all kinds of people in this place, folks who come up once in a while to see their kids or their parents. Sometimes they don’t come at all. Folks lie in bed for days with just themselves and no one to sit with them.” She tugged on the bedding and the wrinkles that had started to bother his legs smoothed out. “I hope you know how lucky you are.” Ryan would have rolled his eyes, but he was afraid his head would start hurting, so he simply kept quiet. “Is that more comfortable?” she asked before helping him slowly lean forward and then fluffing his pillows. “There.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said, feeling comfortable and almost cradled in the bedding.

  “You’re welcome, honey. I’ll ask the doctor about you taking a walk,” she said, and Ryan thanked her again. She left the room, and Ryan yawned, closing his eyes. He must have really slept, because when he woke, he felt floaty and happy, like he’d actually rested and didn’t want to really wake.

  “You finally decided to open yer eyes,” a voice he didn’t immediately place said, and Ryan turned toward the chair beside the bed.

  “Hy,” Ryan said. “What are you doing here? Did Dante bring you up?” Then a scary thought occurred to him. “You didn’t try to drive yourself, did you?”

  “No. The roads are safe. A friend was coming into town and he gave me a ride. Dante’s working back at the ranch, or at least he was when I left,” Hy said.

  “Oh,” Ryan mumbled.

  “So how are you, young man?”

  “I’ve been better,” Ryan said, and Hy chuckled.

  “Join the club. At least you’ll heal and not fall to pieces in front of everyone you know.” Hy shifted in the chair. “Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, what did you say to Dante? He got home from the hospital this morning looking like he lost his best friend. Did you two have a fight?”

  “No. He was always here, and I told him to go home. He has you and the ranch to take care of. He didn’t need to be sitting up here with me,” Ryan said. “It isn’t like I’m going anywhere anytime fast, and I know he has things to do.”

  “Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself that, but I know a bunch of hog slop when I hear it. You been sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself and you didn’t want Dante to see it. I know—I been there before too.” That wasn’t exactly what was going on, but Ryan kept quiet. Hy could think whatever he wanted. “Know something? I never thought a disease could teach me anything, but this crappy ALS taught me something. I can’t do as much as I used to, and sometimes people got to help me. And you know what? I gotta let ’em. There ain’t nothing wrong with letting folks who care about you help. Yeah, sometimes it’s hard to take, especially when it’s something like being able to drink a beer or eat your dinner. But, boy, it won’t be forever, at least for you. So let the folks that care help. It’s sometimes how they show they care.”

  “But being helpless really sucks,” Ryan said.

  “Yeah. But you won’t be helpless for long, and you certainly know who your friends are at a time like this,” Hy said. “Let me ask you this. Once this is over and you’re on your feet again, are you going to be most grateful for the people who were here to help or the ones who stayed away?” Hy stood up and began to slowly walk toward the door. “I gotta go because my friend, Grace, is going to be picking me up soon, and that woman don’t wait for no one.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Ryan asked.

  “Well, I been here for two hours and you slept through most of it.” Hy shuffled toward the door. “You get better, and we’ll sit on the porch and have a beer together. I’ll even let you help me if I need it.” Hy waved and then left the room. Ryan thought about calling Dante to see when he was coming back, but he’d pushed Dante away and he couldn’t very well call and ask him to come back.

  Jacky buzzed into his room a little while later and talked nonstop about everything that was happening. Ryan couldn’t keep up, so he simply listened to what he could and was thankful for the company. “Where’s Dante?” Jacky asked after he took a breather from his litany of gossip and happenings.

  “He’s at the ranch,” Ryan said without providing further explanation.

  “Is he coming back tonight?” Jacky asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan answered. His head was beginning to ache and he closed his eyes.

  “More pain?” Jacky asked.

  “Yeah. It comes and goes sometimes. My folks were here before they had to leave town. It was a surprisingly good visit. Mom was Mom and Dad was more like Dad and less like ‘The Reverend’,” Ryan told Jacky with a smile.

  “Do you want me to get someone about the pain?” Jacky asked.

  “No. It’ll most likely pass.” God, he hoped so. He was getting very tired of being doped up until he could barely see or think straight. “So have you got your tickets for next season?”

  “Yeah. Do you know if Dante’s sponsorship was renewed?” Jacky asked, but Ryan didn’t have an answer. They hadn’t done a lot of talking since the accident, and Ryan realized he didn’t know much about anything that had happened with Dante other than the fact he always seemed to have been at the hospital.

  “No. I remember Harvey saying it should be a done deal and seeming pretty confident about it, but I don’t remember Dante saying any more about it.” He’d have to try to remember to ask when he saw Dante, but his current memory seemed fuzzy sometimes.

  The nurse walked in, all smiles. “The doctor says you can take a short walk if you feel like it. He did stress that you aren’t to be alone in case you get dizzy.” Ryan pushed back the covers and slowly moved his legs off the bed.

  “God, it will be nice just to be able to walk to the bathroom,” Ryan said as he continued slowly shifting on the bed. The nurse helped him up, and Ryan stood on his own legs for the first time since the accident.

  “Are you dizzy?” the nurse asked softly.

  “No,” Ryan said. He was exhilarated and out of that damned bed.

  “Good. Stay where you are,” she said, shifting Ryan’s IV to a wheeled stand. “Okay, you can take a few steps if you think you can.” Ryan walked a little bit, taking it slow, glad everything seemed to be working.

  He paused when Jacky snickered from behind him. “Nice butt,” Jacky called, and Ryan realized his gown was open in the back. The nurse helped him tie the gown closed, and he continued walking.

  “You okay?” the nurse asked as they reached the hallway.

  “Yeah. My head feels okay,” he said. It felt good to be moving. “Can we go back now? I want to use th
e bathroom.” He’d been peeing through tubes and into jars for days and he was so ready to use the bathroom.

  “You’re out of bed,” Dante said as he approached from down the hall. Ryan stopped and stared because, damn, Dante looked good: tight jeans, black T-shirt, and he was even wearing his hat and boots.

  “We’re heading back to the room,” Ryan explained. He was not about to tell Dante he needed to go back to use the bathroom. Things inside his hospital gown were suddenly interested, and Ryan had been starting to believe that the one thing that his brain had forgotten about was his dick. Well, now he knew that worked, and thank God hospital gowns were baggy.

  “I’ll take him back,” Dante told the nurse, and he took her place, gently leading Dante back to the room.

  Jacky was waiting for them. “Did you have a good walk? I see you picked up a cowboy along the way.” Jacky made a show of peering out in the hallway. “Maybe I should get hurt and one will come visit me.” Jacky stepped over to where Ryan was leaning against the bed and gently gave him a hug—then stepped back with a surprised expression on his face.

  “Sorry,” Ryan mumbled, and Jacky laughed.

  “At least things are working,” he said. “I’ll get going and leave you two alone.”

  “Okay,” Ryan said, and he slowly pulled open the bathroom door. Jacky left, and Ryan went inside, standing over the toilet. God, who would have thought something as normal as peeing like a real person could be transcendental, but Ryan felt more human right at that moment than he had since the attack. Ryan sighed and finished up, before washing his hands. Then he pushed his rolling IV stand back into his room, and Dante helped him back in bed. A nurse came in a few minutes later to make sure everything was okay.

  Dante settled in the chair next to the bed and took off his hat, setting it on his knee. His leg jittered, hat bouncing. “What’s gotten into you?” Ryan asked.

  “Not sure. What got into you?” Dante pressed. “I’m not some child; I know what I need to do, and I know you know that. So what’s with the whole thing about getting me to leave? If you don’t want me around, all you need to do is say so, but you don’t need to beat around the bush like I’m helpless and can’t think for myself.”