by Layla Dorine
“That was rough,” Raff said to Nicky as they wheeled into the common room when their PT session was done. Left turns were starting not to suck so bad, but it still wasn’t easy. “We still have Goetz’s PT session in an hour. Something tells me it’ll be brutal. Look at what she had us do yesterday.”
“No thanks.” Nicky groaned. “I’ve been trying to forget.”
Raff chuckled. “Can’t say I blame you. But just wait until you start using the parallel bars.”
Nicky looked down at his bad hand and shook his head. “That’s gonna be a while.”
“How’d it go with moving everything?”
“Never thought moving a few stupid things would make me want a nap,” Nicky admitted. “I hate feeling tired all the time, hate feeling weak. It sucks. When does it go away?”
“I wish I knew. Feels like I’m getting another sore on my stump. I wish that would stop. Every time I get one I have to leave the prosthesis off until it heals. It just makes everything take longer.”
Nicky reached out and pressed his good hand against the window. “What do you plan to do when you get done here?”
“You mean, like, what’s the first thing I’m gonna do?” Raff said. “That’s easy. I’m going to fire up the grill, throw on a huge steak, lie back in the hammock, listen to some country music, and toss the ball to my dog.”
“Who’s taking care of it now?”
“My folks. He’s a chow, three years old. I’ve had him since he was a pup. Named him Bear, because he sort of looks like one. How about you, do you have any pets?”
“No. Never really thought about getting one. I mean, I like animals and all, but I’ve never even had a goldfish.”
“Wow, deprived childhood?” Raff asked. “Not even a pet rock?”
“Not even a dust bunny or an imaginary friend. Just me and my aunt and all her stories; at least until she passed away.”
“Ouch. What happened?”
“Cancer. It was fast. It seemed like she was diagnosed and then she was gone. There was no time to get treatment, and even if there had been, we didn’t have the money.”
“What happened to your folks?”
“My old man got caught in a crossfire one night. He’d gone to a convenience store and some guys decided to try and rob the place. Shop owner fought back and my dad ended up getting hit. My mom was never really okay after that. She took off and just never came back. I used to hope that someday she would. Now I just wonder if she’s dead somewhere or locked in a nut house.”
Raff shook his head and looked at Nicky sadly. “I can’t even imagine. My mom divorced my dad when I was a kid. She didn’t really want to deal with kids. My stepmom is awesome, though, she waded into our messy lives and made order out of them. Let us be kids again, instead of always doing the housework and trying to cook.”
“Wow, she sounds fantastic.”
“She is. You’ll get to meet her and my old man; they’ll be coming up to visit soon.”
“So, umm, after your barbecue, then what? You can’t lie in that hammock forever.”
Raff grinned. “Haven’t thought that far ahead. What about you?”
Nicky shook his head. “I don’t know. I hated school; always liked being outside though. And fast things. Not sure how to put it all together.”
“They’re supposed to have some kind of education counselors here who help people who need to look into training skills, or even finding new careers. Maybe we should go see where they’re at and what they’ve got for a couple messed up guys like us.”
Nicky yawned. “Yeah, maybe.”
“We can’t put it off too long,” Raff said.
“I guess. What did you do before, anyway?” Nicky asked. “I mean, isn’t it something you can just go back to?”
“Nope. I’m pretty much screwed, the same as you. I was a firefighter, so without my leg I’m pretty much shit out of luck, and no way in hell would I take a desk job.”
“How’d it happen, was it in a fire?” Nicky asked.
“No, a rescue. We’d responded to an eight-car pileup and were trying to free a woman from her truck, which was in a pretty precarious situation. A light pole fell, hit the car, and sent it smashing into me. One of the jagged chunks of metal ripped into my leg, mangling it, and the weight of the car crushed the bone. They tried repairing it, but I got an infection, and in the end they decided it wasn’t salvageable. I guess I should consider myself lucky there is enough of the stump there to actually attach something too. Plus, any higher and I might have lost a nut.”
Nicky cringed.
Raff smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s how I felt when I saw how bad it was.”
Not for the first time did Nicky feel lucky sitting beside his friend with all his extremities still attached, making him regret even more deeply all of the time he’d spent feeling sorry for himself.
“Doesn’t it bother you that you got hurt so bad and it wasn’t even your fault?”
“It’s not about fault,” Raff told him. “I chose to become a fireman. My dad, my aunt, a cousin, and two of my uncles are firemen; my grandfather was before them too. I knew that there was a chance I could lose my life in the course of doing my duty, but, hell, the things I’ve seen on the job just showed me that you could die doing nothing, and most times not even have a hand in it.”
“Guess I never thought of it that way,” Nicky admitted. “I keep thinking that if I hadn’t gone into racing it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Maybe,” Raff said. “But you said you surfed, right? So you could have been attacked by a shark instead. Then chances are you would’ve been missing something, if you survived it.”
“Have you ever seen a shark attack?”
“The actual attack, no, but the aftermath, yeah. Makes me feel grateful that what happened to me wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Nothing tears like shark teeth, except maybe a chainsaw.”
Nicky shuddered. “I’ve only seen sharks in the water a few times when I was surfing. I know they’re always there, but it’s been rare to actually see one. The first time I was surfing off Juno beach and this fin rose out of the water and went streaking past. Next thing I knew a seal was being tossed into the air and this giant head was out of the water, mouth open to catch it. I’ve never gotten out of the water so fast as I did that day.”
“Fuck. If I’d seen that, I never would have gone back in the water again.”
“It took me a week, but the ocean kept calling to me, and I loved surfing too much to give it up. Plus, my buddy kept reminding me they were always there, so seeing one shouldn’t make a difference. In the end I had to admit he was right. I’d always known they were in the water with us, so why was I freaking out so bad about seeing proof? Still, I have moments when I’m scared shitless that I’m gonna look over and see one coming at me.”
“Better you than me.” Raff chuckled. “I couldn’t do it, man, seriously.”
“But you could run into a burning building? What sense does that make? Fire is as unpredictable as a shark.”
“True, but the fire I can see before it gets me; a shark, you can be halfway down its throat before you figure out what’s happening.”
“I think I’d prefer that, actually. Less time to think about it.”
“I’ve got training to deal with fire. I can see and assess the danger, get a feel for the way it moves. It’s not the same unpredictable chaos of a frenzied animal. Trust me, there’s a difference.”
“Either way it’s gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.”
Raff threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “Now that we can agree on.”
Pausing, Nicky took a moment to rest by the fork in the corridor before attempting to turn the chair, waving to one of the nurses they passed each day on their break between sessions.
“Maybe we can help each other find our new career paths,” Raff offered.
“Can’t hurt.”
“Or at the very least, we can help keep the other fro
m getting too frustrated if the prospects aren’t what we were hoping to see.”
Nicky glanced sideways at his friend, seeming to study him for a moment. “So, do you still want to help people?”
“Yeah, actually, I would. Just not from behind a desk. I don’t wanna be a counselor or work in a call center; I wanna do something hands on.”
Before either of them could change their minds, they headed to the nurses’ station and asked where they could find the office of career planning. She seemed pleased to direct them, and they made the slow journey down the hall, debating what might possibly be for dinner that night. By the time they arrived, Nicky was wishing he’d opted to just go to his room and take a nap. Too bad he’d have to reverse the journey to do that, so he was stuck. The room was manned by an older woman and a guy in his thirties, both of whom had been busy putting out brochures for colleges. Nicky lingered near the door while Raff stepped inside to talk to them.
“Why don’t you both try out the survey?” she said several minutes later, stepping into Nicky’s line of sight and startling him out of his sulk. She was gesturing toward a wall of computers.
Nikki glanced between her and Raff.
“Come on,” Raff said, already heading for one of the computers, so Nicky rolled up beside him and waited while the lady got them set up.
“So what does this do?” Nicky asked.
“Asks you a whole lot of questions, then matches you to potential careers based on the way you answer it.”
“Oh, okay,” Nicky said softly as the test popped up.
Both got quiet as they answered questions. Raff finished first and waited as the results were printed out for him. Nicky finished not long after.
Raff looked at his and read a few off, pausing when he got to dog training. He paused again when he got to call center operator, but only to chuckle at that. He read off the others, but kept coming back to animal training, especially when one of the counselors pointed out that there was always a need for people to train service animals and help others learn to work with them.
Nicky sat looking at his and didn’t know what to think. There were several types of mechanic jobs on the sheet, and a few things working with animals, along with landscaping and forestry service, which just made him think of Vic. Still, he liked the idea of animal rehab, helping abused and neglected creatures get rehabilitated and find new homes, and he liked the idea of designing, even if it did make him think of the bikes he’d never get to ride. It would give him much to think about.
“I never imagined there were so many options,” Raff said.
Nicky nodded in agreement. “We’d better get to the pool for the latest torture session,” Nicky muttered, and folded his paper as carefully as he could before putting it in his pocket.
Still, all the way to therapy he found himself thinking about therapy horses, and something Gray had talked to him about, shortly after the accident.
“Shh, just listen, okay?” Gray stroked his hair, kept him calm and pliant, but listening to any option that didn’t involve a bike wasn’t anything he wanted to hear.
“Okay, but…”
“No buts,” Gray insisted. “I’m not asking you to give up on the idea of racing again. I just want you to hear me out. It’s going to take a lot of work and a lot of time before it’s safe for you to get on a bike. Until then, horseback riding would give you the same sort of freedom.”
“Until I get thrown off, or kicked,” Nicky protested. “I’ve never been on a horse, ever. I’ve never even petted one. How am I supposed to ride anything like that?”
Gray chuckled and kept on stroking his hair. “With help. No one’s suggesting putting you on a horse as soon as you get out of the hospital. But there are therapy horses that are trained to be ridden by people like you who are healing from injuries. It would be something to look into, and the best part is, it’s something you’ve always wanted to do.”
“No. What I always wanted to do was learn to ride on trails, without anyone having to hold my hand or lead me. How is it freedom if I need help with that too?”
“Baby steps, Nicky. It’s like baking a soufflé. It’s all about mixing the ingredients right and timing.”
Nicky couldn’t help but smile and lean back a little so he could look up into Gray’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting? You haven’t taught me how to make a soufflé yet.”
Gray kissed the top of Nicky’s head and held him close. “We’ll get to that soon enough, Nicky, I promise you.”
Later that night, when he lay in bed so exhausted his muscles twitched, he recalled the way he’d dismissed the idea so callously. Closing his eyes, he could still see Gray’s face and hear his words echoing. It plagued him until he got up and swung himself into his chair. He wheeled over to his dresser and dug around in one of his drawers, looking for the large color brochure he’d received in the mail, telling him all about the therapy that was offered at this place. As soon as he located it, he returned to the bed, hoisting himself in with a grunt. He found it near the back: a stable. The place had a stable and horses and everything, Nicky read and reread the section on the benefits of animal therapy several times before finally drifting off with the brochure on his chest.
***
Terry sanded the flat surfaces of the cut wood, readying it for the intricate carvings his father would add. There was already enough to last over a week, but Terry found the sanding to be soothing and didn’t mind continuing to work. Besides, it was something he knew he was actually good at and couldn’t screw up.
“Why don’t you try your hand at carving?” his father encouraged earlier in the week. “The only way you’ll know if you can do it is to give it a shot.”
But while Terry had watched and was sure he understood the concept, and while he had even drawn out a few designs, remembering to keep the lines thick like his father had shown him, he remained convinced that he was incapable of creating anything. He was only truly good at tearing things, and people, down.
His dark mood had grown in the last week, ever since he’d received a long-anticipated letter from Nicky, but the things his ex had to say hadn’t really been of much help. Plus, it sounded as if Nicky had been wrestling with demons of his own. Still, he carried that letter in his back pocket and took it out to read a few times a day, as if punishing himself with it, or reminding himself how bad he’d failed. After he finished the piece of wood, he pulled it out again and there, in the silence of the workshop, with the echo of the sander in his ears, Terry read.
I wish you hadn’t written me. There are days when I’m actually able to forget about your existence. Where you get to be a nightmare I wake up from instead of a huge part of my past that reminds me of all the time I wasted. And on what? A liar, a bully, an egotistical bastard who got his feelings hurt and decided I had to pay for actually beating him at something? I wish there were enough words for how much I hate you. Hate seems too clean, too easy, when what I want is to hurl anything that isn’t nailed down at you until you’re buried in it. But with one bad arm I’d only be able to throw the light stuff, and what I want to hurl is shit that would actually hurt you, so you could feel what I feel right now and every fucking day since the accident. How dare you ask how I am, or how I’m progressing, or if they’ve changed their minds about how much use of my limbs I’ll get back. Why the hell couldn’t you think about all the shit I’d have to go through before you fucking hit me, you selfish prick?
But as much as I hate you, do you know who I hate more? Me! Me for loving you, for trusting you, and for always worrying about your needs before my own. I wish I’d found someone else years ago. Then I’d have realized that you were selfish in bed, and boring too, and absolutely sucked at blow jobs. You know what else I’d have learned? That I actually like to be held and cuddled too. Not like the way you always used to turn away from me, then nag when I tried to spoon up behind you. You really had a way of turning every situation to your advantage, didn’t you? I’m actually shocked you lef
t Dirk. He was the perfect guy for you: pathetically devoted and too stupid to know he was always getting the short end of the stick. And some things with you are pitifully short as I quickly came to realize after hooking up with Gray. In fact, nothing about you matches up to the person I found in him, so get the fuck out of my life, Terry, and stay out of it. I don’t need you making it miserable anymore.
Nicky
A sudden drop of water blurred the paper and smeared a spot of ink, being quickly followed by another. Terry folded the letter and put it back in his pocket, careful not to wreck it with his clumsily shaking hands. The hatred in those words was so unlike Nicky. Surely all the time they’d spent together hadn’t been bad? When he looked back beyond the final six months, all of his memories were filled with joy. With racing and surfing and laughing around campfires, him in Nicky’s arms, or Nicky chasing after him, tackling and tickling him in the sand. He remembered the way Nicky’s face had always glowed in the firelight when he sang along to Jason on his guitar. It had always felt like Nicky was singing just for him; but had he ever, even once, sung to Nicky? Had he ever chased and tackled Nicky, rolled him over, whispered I love you, and tickled him until they were both gasping for breath?
Had he ever gone out of his way to make Nicky smile, even back in high school, when Nicky would tape silly cartoons in his locker, outlandish adventures of Captain Octopus and his Merry Seahorse Brigade? How the hell Nicky had come up with that, Terry still didn’t know, nor had he ever told Nicky that he still had them, every last one, and that he kept them in a locked wooden chest his grandfather had made. His grandparents would have loved Nicky, would have embraced him as family and accepted him because Terry had loved him and Nicky made him laugh. Yet he felt so ashamed that he couldn’t think of a time when he had gone out of his way to do something special for Nicky.
A dark voice inside hissed that Nicky had him. What more could he have needed? But as soon as he thought it, Terry understood how wrong that was. Nicky had deserved to feel loved, desired, and special. Instead, Terry had made him feel as if he’d never really meant anything to Terry at all. Now it was much too late tell him how wrong he was, or show him. Sometimes, there had been days when, knowing Nicky was beside him, had been the only thing to get Terry through the haze of unhappiness at home.