Walking Away

by Xavier Neal

  “Oh, I am….”

  Hudson wets his lips, his own groan now festering right on the other side of his lips.

  Jealousy is a bitch when there’s just one person to consider. Having two is like needing a pair of trained Rottweilers for attacking. The way Gwen turns heads has always kept me on edge. She’s got an amazing pair of tits, enough curves to need caution signs, and a smile that men would drop to their knees for. But Hudson? He walks into a room and commands attention. Women trip over themselves to appear in his eye line for the briefest moment. Literally. A couple weeks ago a woman busted her ass when we were at a bar, grabbing a drink while Gwen was working late. We had a good laugh about it on the ride home, but there was a piece of me that was furious she didn’t respect that we were together. Then again, I’m not really sure if people are aware. I may not care what they think about it, but I need them not to hit on him during our damn dates.

  He clears his throat I assume to bury the temptation to do something dirty to me. “So, while I was out I also grabbed these.” Hudson removes a pair of tickets from his inside suit pocket. “Front row seats to the Highland High Rollers vs. Cleveland Cobras game.”

  Confusion coats my face. “What sport is that?”

  “It’s wheelchair basketball.”

  I audibly huff my annoyance.

  Just because I’m in this fucking chair doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I care about.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking-”

  “That you can go fuck yourself?”

  He cocks a grin. “Figured you would react this way, so I came prepared.”

  Uncertain what he means forces my eyebrows up.

  In one fluid motion, he removes his cell phone from his pocket, opens a video, and leans over to grant me access to a better view. From first glance instinct to chew him out is ignited, but after a few more moments of watching them do not only impressive moves, but impressive shots, has me instantly reconsidering.

  At the end of short clip, he goads, “See. This could be a really good fucking game. Apparently, Highland’s ranked like number three in the league or something.”

  My silence remains as our eyes meet.

  “Wanna go? Mikey at group last night suggested it. I think this shit will be even better in person.” When he senses my apprehension starting to waiver, he adds, “Plus, it would be fun to add something else to our date roster.”

  All of a sudden Gwen stops giggling with the receptionist and calls us over. “Come on. Gretchen’s ready.”

  I acknowledge her announcement with a nod before glancing up at him. “I’ll think about it…”

  Together we follow my wife through the double doors. On the other side, we head left, and I inform Hudson, “The other direction is the pool for hydrotherapy. We do that once a month.”

  He fakes hurt. “Why was that not the session I was invited too?”

  Rather than answer, we travel down the hall to the last room.

  “Good afternoon!” Gretchen, my bright red-headed physical therapist greets.

  She’s always this chipper. Makes me swear there’s more than just water in her bottle.

  “And who are you?” She quickly questions extending her hand towards Hudson. “I’m Gretchen.”

  “Hudson.”

  “Friend?”

  “Family,” I state sweetly.

  A blush threatens his cheeks, and Gwen plants a kiss on mine.

  At least today isn’t as shitty as I was hyping it up to be.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” She swiftly turns all of her attention to me. “Now, I know that you’re probably already feeling a little discouraged today-”

  “Why would he be?” Hudson interjects. “We just fucking got here.”

  Her mouth is moving before I have time to stop it. “Because it’s the two-year mark of his accident.”

  I let my stare hit the ground.

  “That’s today?” Hudson’s voice croaks. To my surprise, he locates himself to a squat down in front of me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The hurt in his question spreads throughout my chest. Unable to express to him the humiliation I feel about acknowledging the unwanted anniversary, I merely shrug.

  His position doesn’t budge. “Is that why you wanted me here? At this appointment?” My eyes flick away yet he grabs me by the chin and commands, “Answer me, Blondie.”

  “Yeah.”

  He gives me a slow, steady nod, stands back onto his feet, and drops a kiss on my forehead.

  The silent stance of support showers me with more ease.

  My eyes meet Gretchen’s, which are now swimming with questions. However, she ignores her instinct and takes the professional approach. “I know this has been a difficult journey, but I also know you’re not a quitter. I want you to keep giving me everything you’ve got every session and prove to that body of yours you are in control. You learned to get yourself in and out of bed. In and out of the chair. The bathroom. The shower. You have made many milestones, and I don’t want you to disregard your previous progress just because you haven’t experienced recent progress. Understand?”

  I nod.

  “Let’s get started then!”

  Gretchen practically skips over to the workout area, and I roll beside her.

  Most of the exercises we work at contain a high level of repetitive moments. From the beginning we’ve been educated on the importance of keeping the muscles moving even with assistance and lectured on the cruciality of encouraging brain plasticity. For an hour, Gretchen cycles through moving my limbs, pushing me to move them, and sensory stimulation.

  Everything else during our session fades. All of my energy goes into every movement during each passing second. I silently talk to my brain. I verbally berate my body despite Gretchen’s insistence I take a more positive approach. I dedicate all of my existence to getting something…anything accomplished.

  Unfortunately, the sweat trickling down the sides of my neck is the only proof my body even registered we were actively moving.

  Gretchen’s pale face forces itself to smile. “What did I say when we started, Jason?”

  I grunt my annoyance.

  “We’re going to do one last set of sensory stimulation-”

  “Skip it.”

  “Jason-”

  “Skip. It.” I bite. “It’s just a fucking waste of time.”

  “Jason!” Gwen’s scolding rolls my eyes.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at, Gwenny, asshole,” Hudson practically barks. My head snaps his direction. Unlike my wife who supports whenever I decide this shit is over, he folds his arms firmly across his chest. “Glenda-”

  “Gretchen,” my physical therapist whispers.

  “-isn’t ready to quit. So neither are you!”

  My eyes instantly narrow.

  His proclamation prompts Gwen to fold her arms across her chest in silent solidarity.

  “You turn your ass around and you finish this session the same way you started it. Giving it everything you have, Blondie.”

  I let my jaw crack open in irritation.

  Great. Now instead of one bitchy wife I have fucking two.

  With another roll of my eyes, I pin Gretchen with an irked grin. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She suppresses any instinct to retort and reaches for the blind fold.

  Suddenly, Hudson speaks up, “Can we use my tie instead?”

  His question shifts a bit of aggravation.

  “Um….Sure?”

  He cockily struts over, lowers to his knees beside me, and begins to undo it.

  The instinct to press my lips to his collides with the one to headbutt him. As infuriating as he makes me, I know he only fights back because he wants me to be the man I want me to be, and he wants Gwen to treat me like that man all the time not just when I’ve got a good attitude. Still. A knock to the skull might remind him he could just say that shit nicely.

  Hudson slides behind me and places the object over my eyes. Besid
e my ear he quietly states, “Be a good boy, and we’ll do this again when we get home.”

  A mixture of a groan and grumble are grabbed out of me.

  “Um….” Gretchen clears her throat. “I can um…hear you.”

  Gwen giggles while Hudson and I chuckle.

  There’s a small awkward pause before Gretchen announces, “I’m going to begin now.”

  “Wait!” My wife’s voice squeaks. The sound of her heels clicking quickly across the floor is proceeded with her fingers folding with mine. “I think we should both be by your side.”

  Hudson’s chin lands on my shoulder, and I helplessly lean into him.

  Despite the fact I may never learn to walk again, I’ve learned to love again, and I think that makes me the luckiest bastard on the planet. Yeah, maybe it’s been two years since I could make love to my wife without assistance or drive or have a real job, but I’m still alive. I’m still capable of much more than some. Plus, I have the greatest two people in the entire world to love and support me. Being able to feel my legs or my dick again will always pale in comparison to that.

  “Still nothing?” Gretchen cautiously questions.

  I swallow my disappointment over not even realizing she had started and shake my head.

  Gwen gives my hand a strong squeeze.

  More sounds of Gretchen moving shit around in her bag reverberate around the room, yet her actions fall on a dead body. Just when I’m certain we’re through there’s the tiniest pain at the base of my foot. “Ou!”

  “You felt that?” she practically gasps.

  Excitement and fear fight over which should be shown on my face.

  “Where? Where did you feel that?”

  “Left foot.”

  “Did it feel high or low?”

  “I don’t know….”

  “Take a minute. Picture your foot.”

  My mind immediately creates an outline in my head.

  “Now picture where you felt that pain.”

  “Down….” I say, voice dripping with uncertainty. “Closer to my heel or where I think my heel is.”

  “Good! Good! We’re gonna try it again, alright?”

  I quickly nod.

  This time the prick of discomfort is on the opposite side. “Ou! That wasn’t the same place!”

  “It wasn’t?”

  Her question instills panic that I force myself to push past. “No…. I mean, I - I- I- I don’t believe it was.”

  She lets a painfully long moment pass. “Where do you believe it was, Jason?”

  “On the other foot.” My mind pictures the location. “Higher. Closer to my toes.”

  “That’s right!” She exclaims, and I rip the tie off of my eyes.

  “Oh my God,” Gwen’s voice trembles.

  “Holy fuck,” Hudson echoes.

  “You’re feeling something,” Gretchen announces firmly. “Now, before you all get overly excited, you need to be aware that feelings may come and go.”

  “Fucking buzz kill,” my boyfriend grumbles behind me.

  “It’s natural especially when impaired limbs are working to regain mobility. You may also experience some tingles. Spasms. Both of those can be incredibly painful-”

  “I want the pain, Gretchen.” A smile spreads across my face. “Being able to feel anything is better than feeling nothing.”

  She gives the top of my foot a solid pat. “Good attitude. Keep it up. Bring it back next week and we’ll see what happens. I’ll leave a packet at the front desk with some sensory things I would like you to continue to try at home over the next week.”

  “Thank you,” Gwen softly says spurring Hudson and I to instantly repeat it.

  After she collects her tools, she exits the room to give us a moment to wallow in my victory.

  Hudson’s arms cradle me from over my shoulders while Gwen presses her face firmly to my chest.

  Completely engulfed by the people I love, I whisper out, “I fucking felt something….”

  “See what happens when you quit being such a pussy,” Hudson teases.

  A small wetness begins to grow on my chest. It only takes a minor moment to realize they’re my wife’s tears. I drop a kiss to the top of her head pushing down my own. “Thank you both for being here.”

  “Thank us by trying twice as hard next week,” Hudson maintains his playful disposition. “If we have to bitch at you twice in front of Gladys-”

  “Gretchen,” Gwen and I correct together.

  “Whatever,” he brushes off. “If we have to bitch at you in front of her back to back weeks, you’re gonna make us look like fucking nagging housewives.”

  Turning my head to meet his eyes, I ask, “You’re gonna come again next week?”

  “I’ll be here every week I can, Blondie.”

  Our mouths gravitate towards one another to let our tongues briefly touch.

  Afterward, I lift my wife’s wet face upward and repeat the gesture.

  Once I’m back in my chair, we grab the information from the front desk and head outside for the building at the end of the strip.

  Hudson uses the brief walk to ask an ass load of questions about physical therapy. Gwen does her best to answer them as well as explain to him, why we have a different set of exercises we’re supposed to be practicing at home.

  “Is it wrong I’m really looking forward to seeing you in the pool, Blondie?” He holds the door to the building open for us. “Have I mentioned how fucking happy I am it’s summer, and I also get to see Gwenny in teeny tiny bikinis every weekend.”

  “Will you hush?” She reprimands. “This is a medical office. Not the corner booth at a strip club.”

  His pout is presented with a chuckle from me.

  They have spent some time at his apartment pool. While swimming is something I used to do frequently before the accident, it’s not something I ever do outside of therapy. People already fucking stare enough. They have pool dates and we have baseball ones. And I gotta admit, a good game followed by blowing my boyfriend in the parking lot is nothing to frown about.

  Almost as soon as Gwen walks away from the counter, the nurse, Nancy, calls my name, “Kincaid.”

  Hudson starts to follow when I have to quietly remind him, “Spouse only.”

  “Right.” He masks his discontent with a throat clearing. “I’ll be out here.”

  I take a moment to make sure he’s settled before rolling Nancy’s direction.

  On the other side of the door she warmly greets us both and begins the routine checks. We keep the conversation during the process cordial, directing the majority of the focus on her and the topic of her grandchildren. After I have answered the last of her tablet check list questions, she announces Dr. Chang will be in shortly.

  I wait until the door shuts to ask, “You think Hudson’s still pouting? You know, because he couldn’t come back here?”

  Gwen gives me a small grin. “I think it’s cute that you care.”

  My attempt to bat away a smile fails. “I just hate him not feeling included. He did take the day off to go through this with us.”

  She reaches over to fold her fingers with mine. “He did. And I’m sure he understands.”

  The hurt puppy dog look in his eyes tells me otherwise. It’s not like we don’t want him back here. It’s not like I’m ashamed to have him hear what Dr. Chang has to say one way or another. It’s just…there aren’t laws that accommodate our situation. Spouse refers to one person on paper. What happens when I wanna make that two? When we wanna make that two?

  Shit. Am I really having this thought? Six months ago I could barely grind through marriage with one person yet now I’m considering extending it to include someone else? Well. Not just anyone else. I couldn’t imagine inviting another person male or female that wasn’t Hudson so permanently into our lives.

  Dr. Chang closes the emotional flood gates in my mind. “Good afternoon, Kincaids.”

  “Afternoon,” we state in unison.

  He adjusts
the glasses on his young face and has a seat in the chair across from me. His finger starts swiping the information on the tablet. “How are we doing, Jason?”

  “Great.”

  Though whenever a doctor asks that question in a specific tone it makes you second guess yourself.