by Marni Mann
“If whatever you have planned becomes too much, you will know.”
“Then, let’s get out of here.”
“I like the sound of that.”
She grinned and brought over the wheelchair. I gave her back the water and gradually sat up. This angle was lower than my bed, but the fiery tingles clutched just as tightly. I moved slowly through each inch, her arm guiding me to my feet, and I turned and sat on the hard vinyl.
I instantly raised a finger, hissing, “Wait,” as I exhaled the pain.
She knelt in front of me. “Do you want a pillow for your back?”
I wanted to cut my fucking legs off, to be able to move without the burning going as high as my throat, choking me.
I nodded, breathing through the seconds it took for my back to adjust to the new position, her addition helping me find some comfort.
“All right,” I eventually said, “we can go.”
“One sec.” She rushed toward my bedroom, returning with a sweatshirt that she set over the armrest. “In case you need it.” She then led me to the elevator that opened directly into my foyer.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
She leaned into my ear. “I thought you could use some fresh air.”
My eyes closed, as though the breeze were already brushing my face. “Damn, you make me happy.”
“Your smile makes me feel the same way.”
The moment we got outside, my eyelids closed again, and I filled my lungs with spring. “I missed this.”
“We’re going to do it every day—as long as you’re up for it,” she said, rolling me over the sidewalk.
I wasn’t used to seeing the city from this vantage point, sitting in the wheelchair. These were streets I normally walked when I went out, running the same ones in the morning for exercise, paying little attention to the details around me. But now, I studied the view as though it were the first time, appreciating the architecture and landscape. Colors were brighter. Sounds were louder. The air didn’t even have the same smell.
“Does it look different?” She had ducked close, so I could hear her. “David would always say that when I took him for a walk after a long hospital stay.”
“It’s a completely new Boston.”
She rubbed my shoulder and then asked, “Feeling hungry?”
“You have a plan for that too?”
“Always.”
“It depends on what you’re offering.”
She squeezed the same spot and took me a few more blocks, going right at the upcoming street, where she pulled into a bakery that I had likely passed every day but never noticed. The scent of chocolate immediately filled my nose, and she wheeled me up to the counter, which showcased every flavor of cupcake imaginable.
“What can I get you?” a young woman asked from the other side of the glass.
“We’ll have an Oreo cupcake and a peanut butter one. We’ll also take two coffees—one black, the other with a pump of vanilla and cream.”
This was the first time a woman had ever ordered for me, and Whitney had gotten every bit correct.
I reached over the chair, gripping her fingers when I found them. “I don’t have my wallet on me.”
“Don’t be silly.” She laughed. “This is my treat.”
She paid and set the box on my lap along with the cup carrier and pushed us to a bench outside, where she sat on the edge next to my chair.
“Mmm,” I groaned after the first bite. “This is excellent.”
“I did some research, and this is the highest-rated bakery in the Back Bay.”
“You treat your desserts like patients.”
She laughed, licking the frosting off her lip. “My God, you have to try this; it’s heavenly.”
She held the cupcake in front of me, and I leaned forward to bite it.
“You weren’t kidding.” The richness of the peanut butter made my mouth water. “Your turn.”
Her lips surrounded the Oreo, eyes widening as she took in the taste. “Wow, I did good.”
I took a drink of the dark roast and caught the leaves dancing on the branches across from us, the glass facades of the high-rises shimmering from the sun. Previously, I would have been chained to my desk, inhaling lunch between meetings, my phone incessantly ringing, my employees coming in and out of my office. I wouldn’t have made time to come here.
Cupcake dates had had no part in life.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed this.”
“It’s like a nice, hot shower. The outdoors makes you feel alive again.”
I stared at her profile, the gusts moving small pieces of hair into her face. “That depends on who’s bathing you.” I reached across the armrest, placing my hand on her leg. “And who’s sitting next to you.”
She smiled. “That matters too, of course.” She threw our trash away since we’d finished eating and got behind me, taking me in the opposite direction of my building. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about our talk last night.”
“And?”
“I would miss nursing if it wasn’t in my life. I love caring for people, but I don’t want my job to look the same as it was. I need change, and it’s time to embrace that.”
My back wouldn’t let me turn all the way around, so glancing across my shoulder was as far as I got. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Don’t give me that much credit. I haven’t figured anything out, but there are a few ideas tugging at me.”
“You’ll piece it together.”
“I hope …” Her voice trailed off, the wheelchair stopping. “Shit! Caleb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize where I was headed. I’ll take us home right now.”
I looked straight ahead, our location not hitting me until my eyes fell over the familiar landmarks.
The finish line.
It felt like hands were wrapped around my goddamn throat, the emotion making my whole body ache, my hands trembling as they circled the armrests.
“No, don’t.” As I scanned the area, my mind went back to April 15, the day I had walked so freely down this same sidewalk while thoughts of Dubai filled my head. “I want you to take me closer.”
“Are you sure?”
We were only two blocks from where it had happened. Even though the setup was long gone, I could see it all so vividly in my mind.
“Yes.”
She still didn’t move. “You don’t have to do this. We can come back on a different day and—”
“It’s okay.” I found her hand again, sliding our fingers together, forcing myself to take several deep breaths. “Facing it isn’t going to prevent me from getting stronger.”
Her lips were close to my cheek, and she gently kissed it. “A wise man once told me that you have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations. That’s the only way you’re going to grow.”
I shook her fingers, letting her know I was ready, and as she led us closer, my brain played out the moments from that day. The weightlessness I’d felt in my legs as I walked, the crowd I had weaved my way through, the picture I had taken for Smith by lifting my arm high in the air.
My legs tingled.
My back fucking throbbed.
My eyes frantically searched for the spot that had ultimately changed my life.
A bright red awning came into view, a color I remembered because it so closely resembled one of the international flags that had been waving at the finish line.
Nothing followed that memory, only blackness.
“There,” I said, pointing to the pavement not far from where we were. “That’s where I think the medics found me.”
The wheels of the chair hugged the edge of the curb as I stared at the ground—a simple, nondescript charcoal gray.
“I can feel the pain in the air,” she said softly.
I felt it each time I inhaled, my ears cracking as the noise of the blast came back to me.
She stood at my side, the warmth o
f her grip somewhere on me. “What are you thinking about?”
“The sound.” I sensed its claws around my eardrums. “It was like a gunshot but a thousand times louder.” I swallowed, the acid burning all the way to my stomach. “And the fear that consumed me when I woke up in the hospital, not knowing what was wrong with me, the pain immeasurable.”
“You are so incredibly brave. I hope you know that.”
“I’m not … I’m fucking angry.” My jaw tensed, hands slick as I squeezed the vinyl handles. “Do you know how many times I wanted to throw something out of my hospital window, shattering the glass like the bomb had done to my back? Or all the times I had to stop myself from screaming at the top of my lungs because I couldn’t handle another second of agony? Or how I want to wrap my fingers around that motherfucker’s neck and torture him for the hell he’s put me through?”
“Even if their circumstances were different than yours, I haven’t looked after a single patient who hasn’t felt the same. Anger makes you human, Caleb.”
As I glanced toward her, a warmth came over her face.
“And when you can return to a place that’s changed your life in unfathomable ways, that also makes you extremely brave.”
I was just turning my attention back to the road when I heard, “Excuse me,” in the gentlest voice.
Standing next to Whitney was a woman around my age with a young girl who barely stood taller than the woman’s waist.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” she said, “but I have to ask, are you one of the survivors of the bombing?”
Survivor.
A word I couldn’t wrap my head around.
When I didn’t respond, Whitney answered, “Yes, he is.”
“The way you were looking at the street, I had a feeling.” She held the girl’s small hand, pressing it against her pregnant belly. “Their daddy—my husband—he wasn’t one of the lucky ones.” She chewed her lip so hard; I was sure there had to be blood. “My Charlie didn’t survive.”
An ache stabbed my heart, shoving all the way into my throat. “I’m so sorry.”
The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg, clinging like it was rope.
“He was a cop, on duty at the time.” Tears were in her eyes. “We’ve been coming here every day.” She looked toward the road, her chin quivering, not letting anything fall from her eyes. A pillar of strength for her daughter and the child she had on the way. “I don’t know why; it just makes us feel close to him again.”
“Your daddy is a hero,” I told the young girl with a head full of dark curls, her eyes the deepest blue.
“So are you,” she replied in a tiny, high-pitched voice.
Whitney’s hand found mine, stopping my fingers from shaking.
“Gracie, baby, no—” the mother shouted as the girl released her and ran toward me.
“It’s okay,” I said to the mom as Gracie squeezed in between my legs, leaning up on her toes to throw her little arms around my neck.
“Baby …” the mother cried, watching her daughter hug me as she patted her round stomach. Her tears finally fell, which she quickly wiped away.
I rubbed Gracie’s back, keeping mine as straight as possible, unable to move any more without yelling out in pain, but knowing I needed to be strong for her too. “You’re such a brave girl, you know that?” Her arms tightened around me. “Your dad would be so proud of you for being here.”
She crawled down and rushed back to her mom.
Thank you, the mother mouthed, hugging her daughter before burying her face in the little girl’s neck.
I nodded, and Whitney began pushing me in the direction of my condo. We made it about a block before she pulled us underneath a storefront and knelt in front of me. The emotion in her eyes matched the thickness in my chest.
“That’s a moment I’ll remember forever,” she whispered.
“Me too.” As I wiped the wetness off Whitney’s cheek, I could still feel the sweet girl’s hug, the love that had been in her arms. “You know, every day that’s passed, I’ve wished more than anything that I’d been in Dubai, not at the race with Joe.” I looked toward the street, the mother and daughter still wrapped around each other. “I don’t wish that anymore.” My eyes moved back to Whitney. “I don’t know who I’m going to become, but I’m not going to be the man I was, and I don’t want to be.” I clasped our hands. “I know I’m one of the lucky ones; she was right about that, and so were you.”
Several more tears dripped when she said, “I’m proud to know you, Caleb Hunt. I’m even prouder to have you in my life.”
Eleven
A quietness followed us back to my condo, and so did a steady breeze of emotion that I still felt during the ride up the elevator and when we entered my foyer. Whitney automatically pushed me toward my bedroom. After being outside, I wasn’t ready to return to that dungeon.
“The couch,” I said before we reached the living room. With it being about fifteen yards away, I added, “And I’d like to walk there.”
“With your walker,” she corrected.
I had yet to take a step without it and agreed, “Yes.”
She grabbed the device from the wall and brought it to me. “You were sore this morning and had an hour of PT, followed by a long and very challenging afternoon. I know you’re tired, so please be extra careful … for me.”
Strength and independence were my goals. To get there, I had to continue fighting. If today had taught me anything, it was that.
I prepared myself to stand, leveling my feet on the ground, rising only with my legs. I immediately gripped the arms of the walker, and Whitney’s hand was on me before I even took a breath.
Within the first step, I felt the heaviness of the day. My bones ached, my muscles stiff. The tiredness threatened to make me careless, but I forced myself to focus.
“You’re doing so good,” she celebrated as I passed a sitting area. “How do you feel?”
“Determined.”
And that was what drove me to go farther, to do an additional loop around the large sectional rather than head straight for my seat. I paused when the fire became too much in my legs, giving it several seconds to calm before I continued. I kept my stride short, not the length I was previously used to. The sight of the cushions was a relief when I finally reached them. I was winded when I sat, my body screaming from just the small amount of exercise.
I waited for the torment to subside before I found Whitney’s smiling face next to me.
“I’m so incredibly proud of you again.”
“That was for Gracie.”
Her hand rubbed across my scruff. “I know.” She leaned into me, her kiss starting off tender until her tongue parted my lips, coming in to taste me.
I pulled her closer, gripping the waist of her scrubs, wanting more than anything to rip them off. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”
I guided her over, and she straddled my lap but didn’t give me any of her weight.
“Would it be all right if I canceled Veronica?” She held my shoulders, nose brushing the end of mine. “I want to wake up next to you …” A redness moved across her cheeks. “But I wouldn’t be comfortable if there was another nurse here.”
I cupped the heat on her face and laughed. “Welcome to my new world of awkwardness. I’m just fortunate our first encounter was a sponge bath, and you weren’t responsible for removing my catheter.”
“For the record, I’m very gentle.”
I kissed the smile on her lips, and even though she was all I could feel, I still couldn’t get enough of this gorgeous woman. She was an energy, a sensation, a beacon of hope that I didn’t want to let go of.
“Whitney, there’s something so special about you.”
Our faces were only inches apart, the warmth of her breath filled with the sweetness of coconut.
She scanned my gaze back and forth and said, “When I’m with you, I’m not afraid of the ground beneath my feet, and I’m not terrified of fal
ling.”
Like me, I was sure she didn’t recognize the person she was becoming.
But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind when I gripped her even tighter and said, “You’re not capable of falling. Not even tripping. The only thing you’re going to do, baby, is fly.”
She carefully wrapped her arms around me, her chest aligned with mine, her exhales gusting against my neck.
I knew in that moment, no matter what my future looked like, I was going to be all right.
We stayed out on the balcony long after we finished eating the pizza I’d ordered, the first bottle of wine running dry and now onto our second. The air was getting chilly even though she had covered us in a blanket, and despite my wanting to stay up for hours, my body could feel the hardness of the day and how unforgiving this wheelchair could be.
“It’s time for bed, isn’t it?” she asked, my thoughts always so obvious to her.
I lifted my hand off her leg and held the back of her head, rubbing her neck with my thumb. “I just need to lie down; this has been a lot of sitting.”
“You’ve done wonderfully.” She got up and began pushing me inside. “I’ll get you settled, and then I’ll come back out and clean up.”
I reached behind me and grabbed her wrist. “The hell you will. My housekeeper will tackle it in the morning. I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”
She squeezed back, her embrace more affectionate than mine, and brought me into the master suite, where she parked me in front of the sink.
I took my toothbrush off the counter, staring at her from the mirror while I said, “Grab whatever you want to wear from my closet.”
I’d never brought any of the women I’d dated into my home. I had only stayed at their places and hotels—something I’d learned to do early on because most of my relationships only lasted a few months. Therefore, I wasn’t used to this step of the process.
I thought of what else she might need and added, “There’s plenty of extra toothbrushes in there,” pointing to the next set of cabinets. “Help yourself to anything.”