More to Life

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  I shook away that thought. My husband wanted his wife, but I’m sure he didn’t want me like this. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip of the tea.

  Charles stared at me for a few minutes. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  I shrugged but didn’t reply.

  “I know that this is all difficult for you.” He kneeled so that we were face-to-face. “But you will get through this. I see drastic changes already. And you know that I’m here for you.” He took my hand and kissed it. “I’ll always be here for you.”

  My hand rose and caressed his face. I sighed. I would forever love this man.

  “Charles . . .” I began.

  “I know. I know everything we have been through,” he said, cutting me off. “But just know that I understand that you were going through some things, a serious midlife crisis. But God has a way of working things out on His own. He brought us back together.”

  That comment caught me a little off guard and I pulled my hand back. “So, God almost killed me so we could be together?”

  “Come on, babe. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I sighed and then took a sip of my tea. I didn’t want to get into it with Charles. And as if I needed anything more to be irritated about, Judy appeared in the doorway. I was starting to wonder if she just lurked around, looking for the best moment to come in and aggravate me.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You all need anything?”

  I didn’t even look at her. Charles nodded. “Yes, Mother. Everything is fine.”

  She walked in the room and kept her gaze on me. “Do you need anything, Aja?”

  I couldn’t tell if the smile on her face was genuine, and at this point I didn’t even care. “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Isn’t it wonderful,” she ran her hand over her son’s head as he remained kneeling in front of me, “how Charles is so doting and taking such good care of you? I’m so proud of my son.”

  He looked up at her and smiled.

  “A lesser man would’ve left you out in the cold since you had left him.”

  “Mom!” he said, losing his smile.

  She raised her hands in defense. “I’m just saying.” She smiled again. “Well, I’m going to go get dinner started. I’m making zuppa toscana soup.”

  She smiled at me before turning and exiting the room. She knew I hated zuppa toscana soup but I didn’t have the energy to argue.

  I glanced over at my portfolio. It had been untouched since the DR trip. Maybe painting would improve my mood. Maybe I’d even paint a woman running a marathon to give me some inspiration. That thought gave me my first ray of light. Yes, that’s what I needed—to connect with my canvas.

  “You know what?” I said. “My mind is just in a bad place.”

  “That’s because you’ve been through so much, some serious trauma, babe. Why don’t you lie down and take a nap?”

  I pointed toward the portfolio.

  “No, I think I want to try and paint some. Clear my head. Do you mind getting my supplies?”

  “Sweetheart, I think you should lie down. Those art supplies aren’t going anywhere,” Charles replied.

  Before I could react, he stood and moved behind my chair and started wheeling me toward the bed. “The doctor said rest is vital to your healing. I’m tired, too. Let’s just take a little nap.”

  Inside, I screamed, “Did you not just hear me?”

  Outside, I said nothing.

  Defeat blanketed me as I let Charles ease me into the bed.

  “You know, after you get better we’re going to recommit to each other.” He tucked the covers around me. “I was talking to Reverend Caldwell at the church and he said we could come see him, or one of the marriage ministers there would be happy to talk to us. Or if you prefer, we can go see a professional therapist just so we can deal with the root of our issues and fix things.” He climbed in the bed next to me, pulled me close to him, and wrapped his arms around me. “Fix us. Yeah, nothing would make me happier.” He snuggled closer to me, and as he spooned me, I felt the love radiate from his body. I hated that as much as I loved him, right now, in this moment, I couldn’t return his love. In fact, lying in my husband’s arms was the last place I wanted to be. But the reality was, I was an invalid. And who knew how long I’d be one. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe this—being a wife—was my destiny. And the sooner I faced that, the better off I would be.

  Chapter 25

  I swear, I wanted to scream. Trying to navigate this stupid wheelchair through the front door was the most aggravating thing ever.

  I didn’t know why suddenly everything Charles did was irritating me so. Maybe it was just because I was grumpy about not having control of my own life. I’d finally gotten up the courage to seize my life by the reins, and one bad decision had snatched it all away.

  All the warnings, all the lectures I’d given Eric and Anika about texting and driving flashed through my mind. I’d taken steps to make sure my kids were safe on the roadways. I hadn’t heeded my own warnings and now I was paying the price.

  “At least it’s not the ultimate price—death,” Roxie had said the first time she’d come to see me in the hospital. She was so devastatingly hurt by my actions, but I could tell she was trying to temper her chastisement.

  “Sweetie, how many times . . .” She’d let the unspoken part of her sentence dangle in the air.

  “I know,” I’d replied. “I just . . .” The rest of my sentence hung midair as well. I thought I’d mastered texting and driving. I couldn’t even utter those ridiculous words now. My “mastery” had left me crippled.

  My husband grunted, pulling me out of my blame game, which was good because Lord knows I had played it enough these last six weeks.

  “Ugh,” Charles said again as he pulled the back of the chair over the step in the front room.

  “I really don’t understand why you won’t let me build a wheelchair ramp,” Charles said. My husband had broached the idea while I was still in the inpatient facility. It’s bad enough that he had to rearrange the furniture. I wasn’t about to let him permanently rearrange our lives.

  “Because I’m not going to be in this thing that long and it would be a complete waste,” I said just as Charles once again banged my leg up against the wall.

  “Ouch!” I exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe,” he said.

  “Be gentle, please,” I moaned, massaging my knee.

  “Sweetie, I’m trying.”

  He sounded so exasperated, but I didn’t have room to be sympathetic to him right now.

  “This has been an adjustment for us all,” he added.

  “How about we trade places, then?” I snapped.

  His expression turned serious. “If I could, I would.”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t need to be snapping at Charles when all he was trying to do was help.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. He closed the front door as he pushed me into the living room. We were returning from another doctor’s visit. I swear, I felt like I had a never-ending litany of doctor’s visits.

  I shook off my sour mood and hoped that being in a foul space wasn’t a side effect of my condition.

  “So, I’ll get you settled in our bedroom so you can be comfortable,” he said.

  “Charles, would you mind if I went back to the guest room?” I said. I’d been thinking about this since last week when he snuggled with me. That’s how he’d gone to sleep every night since then. Some nights I welcomed his touch. Most nights I didn’t.

  “What?”

  “Like you said, this is a big adjustment for all of us, and you know I’m having to deal with this both physically and mentally,” I told him.

  “But you need me,” he protested.

  “Please?” I said. I wasn’t in the mood to argue. “It’s just more comfortable. That way, you don’t have to fool with trying to get me up the stairs.”

  Every time Charles carried me up those stairs
made me sadder and sadder. He’d tried to joke about it “being our honeymoon every day,” but it was just a reminder that he was carrying me because I couldn’t walk.

  “Then we’ll both move into the guest bedroom,” he announced.

  “Charles, I need to be alone,” I said, my voice raising an octave. “Just until I can get used to this . . . this new reality.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said, touching my arms to soothe me. “I’ll move you.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Judy replied, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. My sour mood intensified with just the sight of her.

  “Judy—”

  Charles cut me off. “Mom, I don’t need you to fight me on this. This is hard enough on all of us. I just need your help with Aja. I’m going to get her comfortable here on the sofa while I go set up the guest room.”

  She shook her head like she couldn’t believe her son was being so stupid. Then she walked over to the wicker trunk that sat in the corner of the living room. She took out an afghan as Charles struggled to help me stand. My legs felt extra wobbly today, and it brought tears to my eyes.

  “You need a real physical therapist to help around here, Charles,” Judy said as he struggled against my weak legs. “None of us are cut out for this, especially since she’s put on all that extra weight.”

  If I’d had any energy, I would’ve told my mother-in-law that she was one Pillsbury biscuit away from being overweight herself, so she needed to be quiet.

  Charles sounded exasperated. “I have to work on that, too. The physical therapist was supposed to start last week and something happened and she can’t start. Now the agency has to find someone else.” He finally got me seated and took a deep breath like it had sapped him of all his energy. “I have this project at work. I don’t have time to be interviewing other therapists.”

  I fought back tears. I was already becoming an inconvenience.

  Judy sighed as she covered me with the afghan. “Look, I’ll find the therapist. This is a lot on you, sweetheart. Go get the guest room together and then take some time to yourself this evening.”

  I wanted to scream that Charles wasn’t the damn victim. Charles looked at me with pity.

  “Honey, I would never generally leave you, but it’s just that LeBron is talking about coming to the Rockets and I have the exclusive interview . . .”

  “It’s fine,” I said. It really was. I welcomed the opportunity to be left alone. I just didn’t want to be left alone with Judy.

  “Okay, babe. I will get you settled and then I’ll be back.”

  I shrugged my left shoulder. At this point, I didn’t really care.

  Judy put the television on Gunsmoke, a show I hated, then set the remote on the coffee table just out of my reach.

  “Let me get to work,” Judy said. “I’ll make you some lunch and then I’ll make some calls.”

  I wanted to tell her to hand me the remote, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. So as the sounds of gunshots filled the room from the black-and-white TV show, I just pulled the afghan over my head and cried myself to sleep.

  I don’t know how long I had been asleep, but the sound of Judy’s voice snapped me out of my slumber. It didn’t take long; when Judy set her mind to something, she dove right in, so it was no surprise when she said, “So, I have a list of PTs. Charles actually wants someone in this week, so I pushed the agency. I have a folder of some people that can actually start ASAP. Do you want to review them?” Judy asked.

  I inhaled, then exhaled and glanced at the TV. Gunsmoke was off and In the Heat of the Night was on. I liked that show and decided giving my attention to it was much better than talking to my mother-in-law.

  “I’m watching TV,” I said.

  She tsked her frustration. “So, you’re just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself?”

  I didn’t say a word, just kept staring at the TV.

  “Fine,” Judy replied. “I’ll choose the therapist myself.” She turned and walked out of the room.

  It took less than forty-eight hours and Judy had a new therapist on tap. I had rolled into the living room just in time to hear the conversation between her and Charles.

  “Mom, you have no idea how grateful I am to you,” Charles said. “The LeBron interview was great and now he wants me to come up to Philly to cover his new school, but I really don’t want to leave Aja.”

  “Son, you have already done more than most men would’ve done by taking her back and taking care of her after what she did to you.” She patted his cheek. “So you do not need to put your life on hold trying to nurse her.”

  I ignored her words, even though they stung, and rolled closer. Both of them turned to me. Charles looked embarrassed. Judy looked like she could not have cared less that I overheard her.

  “Your mother’s right, Charles. Go. I’ll be fine. Plus, the therapist will be here, so you’d just be in the way.”

  “Babe, are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  He leaned down and hugged me, then stood to embrace his mother. “Thank you so much, Mom. I don’t know how we’d do all of this if it wasn’t for you.”

  “It is my pleasure, baby. Anything I can do to make life better for you since I know this is very difficult on you.”

  I rolled my eyes. I was the one in the frigging wheelchair, but it was difficult on him? Okay.

  The doorbell rang and I couldn’t help but say, “I would get it, but I can’t walk.”

  Charles took a deep sigh and headed over to the door and opened it, “Hello,” he said.

  I heard a perky female voice say, “Good morning. You must be Mr. Clayton, right?” she said.

  “Yes, that would be me. You must be the physical therapist. You can call me Charles.”

  “Well, Charles,” she giggled, “I’m Sunnie Ray. The new physical therapist.”

  Great, a sunny physical therapist named Sunnie. Just what I need, I thought.

  “Well, hello. Come in,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter.

  Judy walked over and shook her hand. “Sunnie, I am so happy to see you and I am forever indebted that you were able, under such short notice, to fit us into your calendar.”

  “It worked out, really. My other client got another therapist and I was available.”

  “Well, their loss is our gain,” Judy said.

  My eyes scanned up and down the perky girl that looked like she was a mixture of black and Asian, and with her butt-length hair, she was better suited for a music video than physical therapy. “Are you even old enough to be a licensed physical therapist?” I asked.

  She released that annoying giggle again. “I get that a lot. I’m actually twenty-seven.”

  “And you wear your twenty-seven so well,” Judy said, beaming like Sunnie was her daughter-in-law and not me.

  I took in her too-tight scrubs and shook my head at the way the material was hugging her thick hips and 34DDs. Yeah, real professional. Even still, her appearance made me instinctively brush my unkempt hair down. I’d been wearing it in a ponytail since the accident and pretty much lacked any motivation to do anything to it.

  “Well, you must be Aja,” she said, not at all fazed by my attitude.

  “Yes. Did the wheelchair give it away?” I asked.

  Charles stepped on the side of me. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She isn’t usually this rude.”

  She kept her smile as she approached me. “Something about being confined to a wheelchair can bring out the worst in a person. Rudeness is a natural part of the healing process for trauma victims.” She knelt in front of me and motioned toward my legs. “May I?”

  I reluctantly nodded and she began gently massaging my legs.

  “Well, Aja, I’ve been told I have some magic hands,” she said as she kneaded my thighs for a few minutes. Then she stood. “So, we’re going to get right to work. And before you know it, I’m gonna have you up and walking and dumping that chair.”

 
That actually made me perk up. “I would love nothing better,” I said.

  “I’ve reviewed your medical files, and you’re one of the better cases I’ve had. So we’ll get you up and going in no time.”

  That brought a smile to my face, and suddenly I saw perky Sunnie Ray as my new best friend.

  Chapter 26

  It’s funny how quickly your friend can become your enemy. Okay, Sunnie wasn’t my enemy, but there were some days when I wanted to inflict immeasurable pain on her. Even though I knew all of her demands were designed for one thing—to get me out of the chair.

  “How bad do you want to walk?” Sunnie had asked me the first full day of therapy.

  “More than anything else,” I’d replied. I’d worked so hard today that there was a thin layer of sweat covering my brow.

  “Then you’re going to have to let me lead,” she replied. “You’re human, so you’re entitled to cry, to cuss, to want to give up. But no matter what, we will not quit. Deal?” she asked.

  I’d agreed, and it had been nonstop work ever since. Sunnie wasn’t playing. For the past three weeks, she’d been a drill sergeant.

  And this morning, she was in full metal jacket mode. We were standing in front of some metal bars she’d erected in the den. The entire area had been transformed into a state-of-the-art rehab facility. Charles had spared no expense, getting the best equipment money could buy, including a ZeroG Gait and Balance Training System, a robotic body-weight support system that I’m sure had to have cost as much as a car.

  “Come on, Aja, you said you wanted to be walking in six months. You’re not going to do that with this half-ass effort,” she barked.

  “It hurts,” I moaned. She had me doing some type of squatting exercise, and my whole body felt on fire.

  “I need you to work through the pain,” Sunnie continued. “Mind over matter. As long as the pain isn’t unbearable, we’re going to keep pushing.” She stood in front of me, her arms outstretched to catch me in case I fell.