Stewart's Story

by Ruth Madison

  ***

  Stewart finished his student teaching and then he stayed at the house, prodding Richard and taking care of him while being treated with sullen silence or insults. He wondered how long he would keep doing this. His father was definitely making improvement and the physical therapist frequently reassured Ellen that a full recovery was likely.

  Stewart suspected that Ellen was hoping this situation might connect him to his father again. Stewart doubted that was going to happen. Richard still hated him and it wasn't as though helping him to get dressed or use the bathroom was making them bond as father and son.

  One day while Stewart was doing some exercises on Richard that the physical therapist had shown them, his cell phone rang. Stewart put down his father's leg and said, “I'll be right back.”

  He backed to the edge of the room and looked at the phone. It was his aunt's number.

  “Claire?” he said.

  “Actually it’s John,” his uncle said.

  “Is everything okay?” Stewart glanced back at Richard, who was trying to turn over and kicking all the sheets off the bed in the process.

  “Not exactly,” John said.

  Suddenly he had all of Stewart's attention and nothing in the room registered anymore. “Oh my God. Are Claire and the kids…?”

  “They’re fine. It’s Ms. Morris.”

  Though the room returned to normal, Stewart felt his chest tightening. “What's happened?” he said.

  “I'm sorry, Stewart, but she's taken her life.”

  Stewart could think of nothing to say. He felt the world change in that instant as his mind tried to re-imagine it without Pete's mother. All the years since Pete died Stewart had kept in touch with her, tried to keep her going. It was the only way he could see to redeem himself from his role on that stormy July day.

  “Stewart?” John said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Listen, I'm not going to be able to go to the funeral, they need me here.”

  “I don't need a babysitter,” his father piped up from the other side of the room.

  “Shut up,” Stewart called over his shoulder.

  “It's okay,” John said over the phone. “Everyone knows how much you helped her over these last few years.”

  “Thanks for telling me.” Stewart hung up and sat still for several minutes, the phone still in his hand.

  “My sister okay?” Richard said and Stewart's attention snapped back.

  “Yes.” Stewart turned and wheeled back to the bed. “It's Ms. Morris. She killed herself.”

  Richard snorted. “Is that all? That crazy bitty finally offed herself. About time she put herself out of her misery.”

  Stewart's anger coursed through him so quickly that before he realized what he was doing he had grabbed hold of his father's arm and was squeezing tight.

  Richard smiled. “You see?” he said, “I know the real you. And you're no different. You're just as violent as ever, nothing has changed.”

  Stewart let go and stared into his father's face. Was it true? Had he not changed from the angry little boy he had been? He swallowed hard. His phone, resting on his lap, beeped and Stewart looked down at a text message from Jeff. Come by the bar tonight? Stewart picked it up and texted back, Absolutely. On my way.

  “I'm going to go,” he whispered. He pivoted and pushed out of the room with Richard laughing behind him. “That's right,” Richard said, “Run away.”

  Stewart found his step-mother and told her that he needed a break.

  “Of course,” Ellen said. She squeezed his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just someone I know died.”

  “Oh, I'm so sorry, Stewart.”

  Stewart nodded. “I'm going to go out for a while.”

  “Sure,” Ellen said.

  When he got to the bar, it was busy. Jeff was running back and forth from the kitchen and barely had time to even nod. As Stewart looked around the room his gaze stopped when he saw Lee, who had not yet noticed him in the crowd. Suddenly this was looking like a set up. He knew Jeff well enough to recognize it. His friend must have seen Lee there and told Stewart to come without mentioning it to Lee. And Jeff was right. Stewart did want to talk to Lee.

  He edged his way through the people, muttering, “Excuse me” every few moments and trying not to run over toes. When Lee looked up and caught sight of Stewart, his eyes grew large and he glanced around as though looking for a door to escape through.

  Stewart rolled directly in front of him and said, "What is your problem?"

  Lee looked down, watching his shoe as it scuffed at a mark on the floor. "I don't have a problem," he said.

  "Look at me," Stewart said. He waited until Lee finally raised his eyes from the ground. "We need to talk about what happened to Pete and what happened to me, let's go outside where we can get some privacy.” The look in Lee's eyes was fear. Stewart wondered what his old friend thought he could do to him.

  Behind the bar, on a strip of boardwalk between it and the beach, next to a dumpster, they found a private space.

  “You froze,” Stewart said. “You didn't do anything.”

  Lee swallowed, then nodded. “How did you know?”

  “Jeff told me.”

  Lee looked away, crossed his arms.

  “Look,” Stewart said, “It's okay. It happens. None of us knew what to do.” He paused, then took a guess at what was bothering Lee. “I'm not upset that you have your career.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lee muttered.

  Stewart shook his head and smiled. “I hope you'll believe me. I think things happened how they happened and there's no point trying to figure out what we could have done differently. If we did that, I wouldn't have teased Pete and he wouldn't have been out in the ocean in the first place.”

  Lee nodded.

  "You're suffering too,” Stewart said, “I know you are. It's got to be hard that no one can see your wounds, while mine are obvious.”

  “I can't stop thinking about it,” Lee said. “Over and over in my mind. I mean, shit man, look at yourself.”

  “I'm fine, Lee, trust me.”

  “How did Jeff manage to get his wits together and call 911?”

  Stewart shrugged. “Luck?”

  That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Stewart returned to his father's house. The door creaked open and he rolled into the dark hallway. He thought about packing his bag and leaving right now. Richard wasn't interested in mending anything between them and it wasn't Stewart's job to change that. Things could go back to the way they had been.

  Some part of him already knew he wasn't going to give up. He would see this project through, make sure his father was healed and then he would find his own place and see his sisters there once in a while. That would be it.

  In the morning Stewart continued his routine as though Richard had never upset him.

  “Came slinking back, did you?” Richard said when Stewart brought in his breakfast.

  “Just eat,” Stewart said. Richard was able to feed himself now, a noticeable improvement from when Stewart first arrived. When Richard had finished, Stewart moved into place to help him get into the other wheelchair and into the bathroom. With his arm over Stewart's shoulder, Richard muttered, “Life like this isn't worth it.”

  Stewart rolled his eyes. “You know what? It isn't all or nothing. I've been living for years with less than full function and it's completely doable. You don't have to give up as soon as you lose a little bit. Grow up.”

  “That's rich.”

  “Can we just get through this? Talking isn't necessary.”

  “You don't know,” Richard said, his hot breath hitting Stewart's face. “You don't know anything.”

  “Fine.”

  “I didn't deserve this,” Richard muttered. Stewart stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at his father. “And I did?” he said.

&nbs
p; Richard didn't answer, but the look on his face said that's exactly what he thought. “You think that I deserved to get paralyzed?” Stewart continued.

  Richard looked at him, eyes burning with anger. “You were such a brat. Stubborn, difficult, diffident.”

  “I lost my mother,” Stewart said.

  “And I lost my wife. You didn’t care how I felt.”

  “I was six!”

  A voice behind them said, “Is this a bad time?”

  Stewart twisted his chair and saw Leah standing in the doorway. He frowned. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “You might not stand up for yourself, but I'm your friend and I will.” She walked closer to where Richard was in the bathroom and Stewart just outside it. Looking right at his father, she said, “Your son is a good man. You're lucky to have him. I hope you can see that. Don't be such an ass to him.”

  Both men were too surprised to say anything and Leah turned and strode out of the room.

  “Who was that?” Richard said.

  “We used to date,” Stewart said.

  “What a looker,” Richard said. “Not surprised you couldn't hang on to her.”

  “Yeah,” Stewart said.

  Once he got his father back into bed Stewart felt his own exhaustion. Jeff was right, he was close to bursting. Definitely time for him to visit his favorite place and get some peace. He slipped by the kitchen where Ellen and the girls were eating without them seeing him and got out the front door. While he drove towards the beach, he wondered about Leah showing up like that. Had Jeff told her to? Did she really think telling Richard off was going to help? He had to admit it felt nice that she had made the attempt.

  There was one spot that he always went to relax and reflect. No one else came to this corner, far from the tourist attractions. He sat at the edge of the boardwalk and watched small waves getting tangled in rocks. Between the rocks and him there was sand that was almost as white as snow. The air was thick with salt and all was silent except for the rushing sound of the water itself.

  Behind him he heard light footsteps against the wooden boardwalk. When he turned his head, Leah was walking towards him, barefoot with flip-flops tangling from one hand.

  “I swear to God,” Stewart said, “How do you people get by without me?”

  Leah sat down beside him, her butt on the sandy wood of the boardwalk. He could only see the top of her head. “We manage,” she said. “You don't have to take it all on by yourself, you know.”

  They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes. Then Stewart said, “Pete's mother is dead.”

  “I'm sorry,” Leah said. They both continued to look down towards the water. “Why does it bother you so much?”

  Stewart crossed his arms. “I wanted to help,” he said. “The truth is, if not for me, Pete never would have been trying to surf during that storm. I goaded him into it.”

  “Wow,” Leah said.

  “Yeah. I thought if I could help his mother, I could fix what I'd done.”

  Leah scooted closer to his chair and leaned her head against the side of his knee. “You brought her peace. I'm sure of it. And it's time for you to let it go.”

  “Do you think I've changed?” Stewart said. “Have I become a better person than the one who taunted Pete?”

  “Take it from me,” Leah said, “I've known you most of your life and you have changed. You're not that cocky boy anymore. Don't keep beating yourself up over the past. We were all dumb kids.”

  Leah stood up and walked down onto the sand, turning back with the wind blowing her hair in all directions. Stewart couldn't help thinking she looked like a sea goddess. "Come join me," she said.

  "Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked.

  "I think it's the best idea I've ever had."

  He smiled. He leaned over his legs and placed one hand flat on the sand, but it was too soft and he ended up tumbling out of his wheelchair onto the beach, laughing. His legs were twisted around each other.

  Leah giggled and grabbed his ankles, pulling him down towards her and straightening his body in the process. Though it was dark out, the air was still warm. Leah climbed up Stewart, straddling him. He looked up at her dark eyes and wondered at how strange it was that when they were teenagers, he had never taken a moment to really just look at her. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips on his. He reached his arms around her and held her tightly against himself. He smelled deeply of her salty hair and honey skin.

  “We’re good together,” Leah said, “And you know it.”

  “Yes,” Stewart said, surrendering. “We are.”

  ***