by Dale Mayer
“He obviously would like it if you do,” Sandra said with a big grin. “Like all dogs. But he doesn’t jump well, and although he walks, he is so darned small that most people end up carrying him around. Which, as you can see, suits him entirely.”
Cole nodded and gently rubbed his chin back and forth against the dog’s small head. “Does he live here?”
“Several of them do,” Sandra said. “Chickie has a basket in the front reception area. Helga lives here too. She’s a big Newfoundland with a prosthetic leg. She makes the rounds to every room here at some point in time. She has an uncanny nose for finding people who might need a canine hug. An assigned member of the kitchen staff makes sure meals are brought to the dogs twice a day and that they have water available when needed. Other than that, we give them access to the outdoors. They’re all house-trained as much as they can be, but there might be the occasional accident,” Sandra said calmly. “We understand when that happens. For animals and people alike.”
She didn’t know if Cole got the message. This place was all about acceptance. He needed to know that. Even when people made false starts, it was okay when they got up and moved forward again. She expected Cole had a lot more setbacks coming. It was the nature of life, and it was very much the nature of recovery.
“A dog called Racer was here for a while. He had wheels. I haven’t seen him in a few days. I should ask about him.”
“Wheels, huh? I guess that makes sense.” He glanced over at Sandra. “It would be nice to spend some time with Stan and the animals. I’ve always been a huge dog lover.” He cuddled Chickie closer. “Something about their ability to love unconditionally … and animals like this are so much smaller and yet so much more trusting. They can step in and comfort you when you’re dealing with so much garbage,” he said. “It’s really special.”
“That’s one of the benefits here.” She smiled. “In the beginning, a lot of people were concerned about the hygiene issues between animals and people. Infections are a problem anywhere, but the upstairs is sanitized on a regular basis. So is the downstairs, for that matter, because the animals are healing too. A lot of the animals, such as Racer, had to have surgery. This little guy had surgery as well, but that was a long time ago.” She glanced at Chickie. “Are you okay with Chickie? Do you want him a bit longer, or do you want me to take him now?”
Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the little guy to keep him close.
She smiled. “I wanted to make sure that he’s comfortable here with you, and considering his delicate system that he doesn’t need to go out.”
“Right. Then I guess I should give him back.” He gently picked up the little dog and kissed him on the top of his head before handing him to the Major. “If you don’t mind, maybe I’ll get a chance to visit with him later.”
“Absolutely,” the Major said. “If you don’t see him around, go to the front desk. He could be sleeping in his bed there. He is in popular demand, but sometimes he is completely alone and looking for somebody to love too.”
The Major scooped up Chickie and tucked him against his shoulder and headed back inside, into the dining hall.
Sandra turned toward Cole. “Two of our biggest icons in this place are the Major and Chickie.”
Cole smiled. “I’m sure life would not be the same without having characters like those two in it.”
Cole’s arms felt empty without Chickie in them. He wanted to get a dog when he was in a better situation. He had had a small apartment in California, but his landlord had put his stuff in storage for him, rather than Cole continuing to pay the rent. He knew he probably wouldn’t return to something like that anyway—one of those old buildings that didn’t have an elevator. Right now, for all intents and purposes, he was homeless. That felt very strange. When he’d been living on base, he had housing. Then, for a while, he’d moved off base and had his own apartment.
Now he wasn’t entitled to base living as he was no longer active in the military. He wouldn’t ask to go back either. It wasn’t his life anymore. No matter how much he wished things could have been different, this was his new reality, and he had to make decisions about his future. He’d been an IED man, but there was not a whole lot of work for bomb specialists in civilian life. With the physical requirements to be on a police force, he wasn’t sure that was an option for him, now that he was physically disabled. He didn’t see how any of his work history and SEALs experiences would help him in a second career.
That meant retraining. He had some funds socked away and could get government assistance, but he needed a goal to shoot for. It was also hard, if not almost impossible, to think about what his options were when he hadn’t even healed yet, didn’t know what his new physical abilities would be. Everything seemed so out of reach, and when he tried to reach out, he felt he was being left behind. Like with his much-older brothers when he was a kid.
Yet Cole had to move forward regardless, albeit slowly now, a little bit at a time, one step after the other. He couldn’t start thinking long-term yet. Not until he was better, both physically and emotionally. He’d use Brock as a model. The man had been broken inside and outside for such a long time, but to see him now, well, he was just so different. Cole was so happy for his buddy, and he wanted that same success. He didn’t know what Brock planned to do with his life now, but Cole was sure it would incorporate Sidney in some way.
Dallas wasn’t very far away as Sandra had said. Lots of people lived there and commuted here. Hathaway House was probably only ten to fifteen minutes from the outskirts of the city limits and a half hour more from downtown.
He’d heard Dani’s fiancé, Aaron, had applied and been accepted for veterinarian school, most likely with Stan’s help, but that wasn’t the life for Cole. He loved animals, but he certainly didn’t want to be a veterinarian, dealing with sick and broken pets all his life. He had no idea what he did want to do, and that would be an issue—but not one for today.
He suddenly realized Sandra was still here, staring at him, a concerned frown on her face. He gave himself a mental shake. “I’m sorry. I’m sitting here, lost in my own worries, when I should be enjoying my time with you.” He reached across the table and held out his hand. He was gratified when she reached across too.
“You’re a very special woman. I don’t know how you can handle all of us broken people as easily and as well as you do.”
She smiled. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he said gently. “I’ve got a lot of things going on inside that I have to realign to my new world.”
She nodded. “How true. We see that a lot. Some people had lives before the military. Some people have lives they can go home to with skills they learned from the military, and other people are starting all over again.”
He smiled wryly. “Put me in the starting-all-over-again category.”
“But your counselor will give you aptitude tests and career counseling and things like that,” she said. “You’ll still have to make some decisions, but you may discover several options are available to you.”
She smiled again, and this time her smile did reach her eyes.
He stared at her long fingers, her perfectly trimmed nails. She had the gentle, soft fingers of a nurse’s hand. He reached his other hand across the table, laying it beside hers, and opened his palm with its large square calluses. The difference was instantly obvious.
“Even before I went into the military, I was more of a physical worker. Not like Brock, who was a roofer, doing any construction job he got his hands on. I was always into landscape, gardening.” He smiled. “At one point, I thought I would have my own company. I like to build small walls, fences and ponds.” He shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”
“Maybe it’s something you could go back to. There is something very nurturing and healing about working in gardens,” she replied, making a mental note to share this with Kimmy.
“I’m sure there are at least a hundred, if not
a thousand, landscaping companies in Dallas alone.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for another one. Or that you couldn’t work for one of them if you wanted to.”
“But it’s physical work,” he reminded her. “That makes it not a great option.”
She settled back thoughtfully, her fingers drumming on the table beside his. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t hire people. If you’re the boss, you won’t be doing a ton of the physical labor anyway. Physically, you can get back a lot of your strength. Look at Brock.”
Cole nodded. “Brock is my idol right now,” he said with a smile. “The fact is, he’s also a good guy.”
“Has he lined up his future career?”
“I’m not sure. We haven’t spoken about that. But he was hell on computers before. So I imagine his job prospects are a bit better than mine.”
“Maybe. But there is room in the world for everybody. Everybody has options. Even you.” She stood and smiled. “As nice as it is to sit here and visit, I need to get back to work.” She took several steps away and then turned. “I imagine you have something you’re supposed to do now or someplace else you’re supposed to be.”
He frowned at her and then saw what time it was. “Oh, crap. You are so right.” In fact, he was already late.
Chapter 9
The next few days followed a gentle and routine pattern for Cole. Sandra stopped in to say hi during her rounds. They got coffee together midmorning, and she saw him again in the evening. She knew he didn’t see the same improvement she did. Then again, she was watching for it. It could take weeks before that sudden, magical moment happened, where the patient saw the improvement.
But day by day, taking it slow and steady, Cole got squared away and built up some strength. He was working a lot with Shane in the morning and then swimming in the afternoon with Brock. She was happy for Cole. His mood had shifted as well. A team meeting on his progress was scheduled for this afternoon. She’d be interested to hear what the others had to say about him. A couple people had commented on the fact that she was spending a fair amount of time with him, but so far, she had tossed that off as a joke. She knew it was noticeable, but she hadn’t made up her mind what to do about it.
Dani had not said anything to Sandra about relationships not being allowed. Dani was with Aaron after all.
Anyway, Sandra didn’t think that was on Dani’s agenda. No, it was more about Sandra and what she would do for herself. She wanted to be sure her job remained secure. And she was uncertain that she wanted to get involved with somebody who would just turn around and leave. She planned to stay here, and if Cole wasn’t staying local, then that wouldn’t work long term.
She walked into the meeting room, tablet in hand, and took her seat. When everybody was there, the meeting began with a number of patients to review. They went through several case folders without any disagreement. Then they came to Cole.
She brought up Cole’s folder on her tablet, and Shane started.
“He’s come a long way in these last few weeks. One thing I would say is that he seems to be holding back. I think his initial arrival and doing too much has stopped him from applying himself now. He’s afraid to set himself back any further.”
Cole’s therapist Kimmy nodded. “He won’t open up about some issues as well. Not that we need to know every deep, dark secret he has, but we don’t want anything that adds stress or has a negative impact on his healing.”
The discussion carried on around the table.
“Is he making any friends here?” one of the psychiatrists asked.
After a moment of silence, everybody turned to look at Sandra.
She flushed. “I’m friendly with him, yes, but I’m hoping he’s making new friends with other people too.” Several of them looked at their tablets, and she wondered what was going on. “Do you think that, because we’re friends, he’s not joining in with other people?”
“I wondered if that was an issue with him,” Shane said. “He is, however, friendly with Brock. Because he has the two of you as his cornerstones, quite possibly he is keeping himself apart from the others. We do see that. Until the patient settles in, it’s hard for them to integrate.”
“Is that an issue with Cole?” Sandra asked bluntly. The last thing she wanted was for anybody to be concerned about this and not bring it up, then it come back to bite her later.
There was silence for a moment. Then Shane spoke again. “I think integrating would help. I guess I’m a little more concerned that he’s not putting in his full efforts. It’s like he’s found his comfort zone, and he’s stuck there.”
“Oh.” Sandra studied Shane. “Do you think that’s because of a friendship?” She frowned. “I’m not sure how that would be.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have linked those two together. I don’t think they are related. When he first got here, he pushed himself too hard and too fast, and he had a natural relapse. But when he arrived the second time, it was as if he was scared to try. At the same time, he could see Brock, and he wanted what Brock had.” He held up a hand to forestall Sandra’s question. “I don’t mean that as Cole wanting a relationship. I mean how Cole wants Brock’s very much improved level of physical fitness.”
She settled back, realizing Shane wasn’t saying anything derogatory. He was just laying out the facts as he saw them.
Speaking slowly, Shane continued. “But at the same time, there is almost a disconnect. Because he tried once and hurt himself, he is scared to give that full effort again. So I can see some discouragement in him right now. It’s like he’s got an issue of before versus now. If he tries too hard, he’ll push himself back. If he doesn’t try enough, he’s not reaching his goal. Brock’s the goal. Cole doesn’t see how to get from where he is to where he wants to be.”
“I can see that,” Sandra said. She glanced around the room at everybody else. “Anybody else have something to add?”
“It’s all about fear,” one psychiatrist said bluntly. “He’s afraid he will fail. He’s afraid he’ll set himself back. He’s afraid he’ll never reach Brock’s state. He’s afraid he’ll always be half-as-good. He was a SEAL. Brock was a SEAL. They are incredibly competitive, but there they were equals. Cole doesn’t see himself as Brock’s equal right now. He’s behind the curve and is afraid he’ll never catch up.”
A flash of sympathy tugged at Sandra’s heart, but she knew sympathy would not be helpful. “What’s the answer?”
The psychiatrist faced her and smiled. “What did you do?”
She frowned at him. “I didn’t do anything.”
He grinned. “After you found out that Cole had tossed his medicines, how did you react and get back on track?”
She stared at him, not happy being put in the hot seat for her own behavior. But these meetings were all about making helpful and constructive progress moving forward, so she didn’t have a lot of choice but to answer.
“I locked down and became more paranoid. I watched all the patients, ensuring they took all their medications, not just one. I still do that,” she confessed. “It grabs a hold of you, and you’re scared of making a mistake. The same as Cole must feel.”
“So how do we help him?”
Maybe an answer to that question would be of help to her too. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had eased back already on her paranoia. Why? Because of Cole’s change in attitude.
“We give him time to let him work through the issues and be there for him,” she said quietly. “We learn to trust him as he must learn to trust us.”
Cole looked up as Brock sat beside him. Cole was constantly amazed at how good his buddy looked.
“How you doing, Cole?” Brock put his coffee on their table, sitting in the shade out of the hot sun. “How’s the therapy work going?”
Cole winced. “Alternately painful and not bad.”
Brock laughed. With a commiserating nod he said, “I think
everybody here can relate to that. When you give it your all, it hurts like absolute crap the next day. But slowly, day by day, and with continued hard work, you can see the results.”
Cole dropped his gaze to his coffee cup. He nodded as if he understood. The trouble was he understood something different.
“What’s the matter?” Brock asked.
Cole shrugged and shifted in his seat. He stared out at the large open area. “I guess I haven’t seen the progress I wanted to see.”
“Keep at it. You’ll get there.”
“I don’t think so in this case,” Cole said quietly. “I like that you’re here. Fact is, I want the healing results you have, but I’m just not getting them.”
“How long have you been here now? Four weeks?”
Cole nodded. “Give or take a few days.”
“And your first week was all about a slow start, right?”
Again Cole nodded. “But after that it’s been steady.”
“Absolutely. If you look back to your condition when you initially arrived, versus where you are today, you’d see the change for yourself. Instead, you’re comparing yourself to me, and that’s not good. I have been here working my ass off for months now. I’m almost free and clear,” Brock said, “but not quite.”
Cole felt a rush of pride for his friend. “Now that would be awesome.” He smiled at Brock. “Did you do anything special? Was there any one thing you can think of that helped your recovery?”
Brock shook his head. “I don’t know about one thing specifically, but I can list several. One was getting Sidney as my therapist because she took my motivation, which was nil, and supercharged it to a hundred percent. Then having Sidney come into my life in a personal way definitely helped.”
“Well, that’s not my case obviously.” Cole slouched back in his chair.
“If she was your therapist, would you be motivated to do the work you need to do?” Brock lifted his cup and took a sip of his coffee. “Or are you scared of a relapse?”
