A Life Worth Living

by Lorrie Kruse

  “What is all the noise?” his father said, stepping up beside Crystal. He tweaked Kaylee’s nose. “This little girl is way too loud.”

  Kaylee giggled. It hadn’t been noisy before his father stepped into the room, but it was now, and it stayed that way until breakfast was served and eaten. Brad and Kaylee moved into the living room and stretched out on the floor in front of the TV. Matt looked on with envy. He wouldn’t mind getting down there as well, except it was too hard to get back into his chair. So he turned his attention back to the Sunday paper spread out in front of him, now open to the want ads. Bar None was looking for a bartender. The exact job he’d always wanted if construction hadn’t panned out. Not.

  Hansen, Nelson, and Jones wanted to expand their accounting firm by adding a new accountant on an apprenticeship program. Blue Moon Casino was looking for a blackjack dealer. Beaver Manufacturing needed a computer programmer who could read blueprints. Sally’s diner was looking for a short-order cook.

  His gaze went back to the Blue Moon Casino job. Too bad it was in Milwaukee and not Fuller Lake. He could almost see himself as a blackjack dealer.

  He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? He was a builder, not a card jockey. He’d be better off with the Beaver Manufacturing job. Other than the fact he wasn’t looking for a new job, and he knew nothing about computer programming.

  “I’ll bet you’re excited about going home next week,” Faith said. “It’s great your parents can move in for a while to help you out.”

  Matt looked up from the paper, his eyes landing on his fiancée. In that second, he realized Abby was right. He really needed to know Crystal could handle being married to him. “I was thinking Crystal should move in, instead.”

  The room turned silent. Faith’s eyes darted from person to person, the crinkle of her forehead clearly showing her curiosity as to what she was missing.

  Crystal was the first to speak. “I seem to recall you saying, and I quote, ‘People live together because they don’t believe in forever.’”

  “I have no choice in whether I want to deal with all the crap…” He paused for just a heartbeat on the word that seemed rather poetic, given this morning’s events. “…that comes with being paralyzed. You do. I want you to be sure you can put up with it now, before we’re married, instead of finding out when it’s too late.”

  Her fingers went to her engagement ring. She wiggled the ring back and forth over her knuckle. “I know what I’m getting myself into, Matt. It doesn’t change my mind. I still want to marry you.”

  “Good.” He punctuated the word with a nod. “And I’ll feel that much more confident on our wedding day if I know you’ve had every opportunity to really see what you’re getting into.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hands, stopping her from playing with the ring. “I love you Crystal, and I would hate like hell if you decided to leave me, but I’d hate it even more if you did it after we got married.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Matt’s mother said.

  Everyone’s eyes shifted from Matt to his mother. She shrugged. “Well, I do. Marriages have broken up over stupid little details like she can’t stand his snoring or he can’t stand the way she folds his underwear. This isn’t a little thing.”

  “But it’s not going to change how I feel,” Crystal said as she pulled her hands free.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Jenny asked. “You’re getting married in three months, anyhow.”

  Now, the eyes shifted to Crystal. She looked down as though to avoid the glare of ten spotlights. She rubbed her diamond with the pad of her index finger. “Fine.” She looked up. “I’ll move in. No big deal.”

  “Good. It’s settled, then.” Matt let his gaze shift to his dad and another realization settled in. “I need your help in the bedroom for a second.”

  He eyed the rumpled bed as he wheeled into the room. He tried to picture Crystal there. Next week. He’d be waking up with her. At his side. Together.

  Forever?

  All he saw was an empty bed.

  He heard his father behind him. He turned the chair around. Damn, his father looked old. Not old in years, but old as in tired and worn down. “Close the door.”

  The door closed with a soft thud.

  His breakfast gurgled inside his stomach. The room became too stuffy. He looked forward to going home next week, but at the same time, he wished there was another month, or even longer—however much time he needed for his body to wake up and let him walk again.

  His father stared at him with both eyebrows arched, patiently waiting, yet curious.

  There wasn’t another month, and time was running out. He drew in a breath. “I’m giving you my notice. Go hire someone in my place.”

  The curious expression and the look of exhaustion disappeared with a flash of narrowed eyes. “No. The name of the business is Huntz & Sons. You hear that s? Sons.”

  “Yeah. And one of your sons is useless— ”

  “Bullshit.” His father rarely got angry, but there was no denying it now. Not with the veins straining his neck. “You are far from useless and don’t you let anyone tell you that you are. Who’s telling you this crap?”

  “I am, Dad. I’m saying it.”

  “I did not raise you to quit before you even try.” His father poked his finger in the air as he spoke, spittle flying from his lips. “You are not dropping out of the family business that I know you love, just because you’re afraid of falling on your face.”

  “I’m not afraid.” It was a true statement…for the most part. He was afraid he couldn’t do the job. He was afraid of failing. But he wasn’t letting fear keep him from trying.

  “Good. Then this discussion is over.” He held Matt’s gaze. “Over. For once and for all.”

  “No, it isn’t. You guys are working your asses off, trying to cover for me. Your health is going down the shitter.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my health.”

  Matt stared hard at his father. “Tell that to someone who didn’t see you coughing up blood.”

  “That was nothing but a touch of bronchitis. I’m fine, now.”

  “Sure. And that’s why you’re single-handedly keeping the Tums factory going.”

  His father leaned close, his eyes burning into Matt’s retinas. “There’s nothing wrong with my health. And you are not quitting. This discussion is over. And that’s final.”

  “That went well,” Matt said to the empty room after his father stormed away.

  A short while later, Brad came in. He leaned on the doorjamb. “What’d you say to make him so cheerful?”

  “I told him I was quitting.”

  Brad’s eyes widened. He looked down the hallway and then back at Matt.

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “As you can guess, he didn’t accept my resignation.”

  “Shit, Matt, you’ve got to make him understand that he’s got to hire someone else.”

  He understood where Brad was coming from, but he bristled at his brother’s plea. “You want someone in my place, then you convince him.”

  “I can’t do that.” His eyes rounded with desperation. “You know I can’t go to Dad and tell him to replace you.”

  “You could if you wanted it bad enough.”

  “Great. I’ll get right on it.” He leaned his head back, letting it thump against the doorjamb.

  §

  The sun broke over the horizon on Monday morning with a dazzling display of pinks and blues in a promise of a wonderful day. Matt knew better. This past weekend proved there would be no more wonderful days for him. Not as long as he was stuck in a wheelchair.

  He sighed. So he’d had one bad weekend. That didn’t mean his life was over. Put your chin up and move on, his mother would say.

  Easier said than done, he thought as he backed away from the window.

  “Knock, knock,” Abby said from his doorway. Her voice sparkled just like her eyes. So alive and full of promise, lifting his spirits.


  “How’d it go?” she asked. “Tell me everything.”

  “Everything?” Memories of the weekend pulled him back down into the pit once again. He didn’t figure she really wanted to hear all the dirty details, but they spilled out, anyhow. “You mean like how my brother left me stranded in a public toilet?”

  Abby’s lips disappeared between her teeth and her eyebrows arched. He instantly knew she was working hard to hold in a laugh.

  “It’s not funny,” he shot at her.

  “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that. You have to admit, of all the places to be stuck, a toilet’s right up there. I hope he at least left you with a good magazine.”

  Against his will, he laughed. He had to admit, laughing felt a whole lot better than being angry. “A guy walked in on me. You should have seen his face. I never heard anyone scurry from a room so fast in my life. Once he got moving, that is.”

  “The sight of you on a toilet is that frightening?”

  “Must be.” He sighed. “The weekend was nothing like I’d expected. You name anything that could have gone wrong, it probably happened.”

  She sat on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry things didn’t go well.”

  He snorted out a sad little laugh. “Didn’t go well? That’s an understatement.” She was five feet away, plenty close enough for any conversation, yet he wheeled closer until their knees nearly touched. “If that’s a taste of what real life’s like, I don’t want it.”

  “It won’t always be that hard.”

  “What if it is? I can’t live like that.” He’d used up two months of his eighteen-month window for recovery. There were times when he wished the eighteen months were over, so they wouldn’t be hanging over his head as a constant reminder.

  She put her hand on his knee. Her eyes locked on to his. “You’re stronger than you think, Matt.”

  The way she said it made it sound like she believed it were true, instead of just spouting off words of encouragement. He flattened his palm against his thigh, bringing their hands closer together. “What if I’m not?”

  “You are.”

  He loved that about her. The way she believed in him, even when he didn’t.

  The sun stretched past the trees, shedding light into his room and bathing Abby’s hair in golden highlights, like a newly anointed angel.

  “I can do this, can’t I?”

  “You can.” She pressed her fingertips lightly into his knee, as though pressing the truth into him.

  His lips parted and his heart gave an erratic beat as he became fully conscious of her touch. Her, touching him. Like he was just average ol’ Matt instead of a paralyzed man. He concentrated on the feel of her hand against his leg. “I love the way you do that.”

  Her nose twitched just a little as she frowned. “Do what?”

  “The way you touch me.”

  Pink highlights colored her cheeks. Like a cut rubber band, her hand sprang away. She stood and crossed her arms, her hands tucked against her sides. “I really should be getting to the gym.”

  “Damn it.” The words slipped out. Now, not only was she not touching him, she was leaving, too. He should have kept his mouth shut.

  Her eyebrows arched with understanding. “Crystal doesn’t touch you anymore, does she?”

  He tried to smile like it didn’t matter, but he could tell by how tight his facial muscles pulled that he was failing.

  Abby crouched and put both of her hands on his legs. “You have to give her time. I’m sure she’s having as hard a time adjusting as you are.”

  He slid his hands closer to hers until their fingers touched. “And what if she never adjusts?”

  “She will.” She said it with confidence, like she was an authority on the subject. The important part was, he let himself believe it was true.

  “Thanks, Abby.”

  “You’re welcome.” She stood. “And now, I really must go.” She took three steps before she turned back, her mouth bent in a smile. “Your brother really left you in the bathroom?”

  He laughed. “Really.”

  “That story I need to hear, Mr. Huntz.”

  “Tonight.”

  She gave him a little wave and, all too soon, he was alone. He brushed his thumb over his leg where her hand had been. Remembering her touch, he closed his eyes and said a little prayer while thinking of Crystal. I want a wife who’s not afraid to touch me. Please, God. If you’re going to leave me stuck in this chair forever, just let that happen. Let me have a wife who’ll touch me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The sound of weights clanging serenaded Abby as she filled in the last of her patient charts the following Thursday. She glanced at her watch. Seven, already? Matt was usually done and out of here by now. Of course, she was usually long done with her charts by now, as well. She’d moved more slowly tonight, stretching out their last night together.

  The noise from across the room stopped. She watched Matt from the corner of her eye, like she always did, while he pulled on the fingerless leather gloves. He was one well-put-together man. She gave a little laugh as she remembered their first meeting, his fear that he wouldn’t be able to please Crystal. He had no idea that there was absolutely nothing lacking in him. Not in looks and most certainly not in personality.

  He wheeled across the room and stopped by the desk. “Once again, thank you for letting me tie up your evening.”

  She put down her pen. “My pleasure.” She wondered if he knew how much truth were in those words. The time she’d spent with him were cherished moments. Moments she would miss once he left.

  “What are you going to do with all your spare time now that you’re not going to have to stay late for me?”

  “Oh, I’ll still have my paperwork.”

  His fingers were wrapped around the push rims, but he didn’t look eager to leave anytime soon. “Really, I do appreciate your letting me come here every night. The talks afterward, too.”

  “The talks were nice.” More like the highlight of her day.

  He scratched his fingernail in a groove on the desktop. He wanted to ask something. She could tell. Just working up the courage. She gave him the space he needed.

  Finally, he pulled his hand away. “You said something once about how every day that goes by without some recovery makes it that much less likely to have more of a recovery.” His gaze rose to meet hers. “It’s been a month since there’s been any change. Does that mean this is all I get?”

  She wanted to lie and tell him he’d walk again, but that wouldn’t do him any good. “The truth? Or something soft and gentle?”

  He shrugged.

  “Statistically, you’ve probably reached your plateau.”

  He put on a brave smile that wavered before it held. He nodded. “Thanks for the truth.”

  She couldn’t leave it at that, because she wanted a happy ending for him as much as he did. If there were any way to make it so he’d walk again, she’d do it. “Should you give up? No. The Internet is full of miracle stories of people beating the odds, having a recovery they were told would never happen. We don’t know, Matt. That’s the problem. We simply don’t know.” She reached across the desk, wanting so badly to grab his hands and fill him with her own energy, to somehow heal him. Instead, she pressed her palms to the scarred laminate top. “If anyone’s a rule breaker, it’s you.”

  His eyes turned cloudy. He nodded. The muscles of his jaw tightened, relaxed, and then tightened. Matt, working his way from what he wanted over to reality. It wasn’t even a guess on her part. She already knew him that well, which made her thankful he was leaving. If he stayed any longer, she might start thinking of him more as a man and less as a patient. Nothing good could come from that.

  “Just stay on this side of hope, the real side,” she said. “Don’t let hope rule you, and you’ll be fine.”

  He crossed his arms and stared hard at her, his head tipped. He reminded her so much of the man she’d met that first day, but, at the same time, he�
��d come a long way. His eyes bored into her once again. “What?” she asked.

  “Just thinking back to that first day. What a pain in the ass you were. You’re still a pain in the ass, but I’ve gotten used to you.” He laughed. “Damn, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too, Matt.”

  “If I gave you my number, think we could keep in touch?”

  A light and airy sensation filled her. For just a second, she pretended there was no Crystal. She pretended love wasn’t a four-letter word. She pretended fairytales were real. And then, the second was over. She forced herself back into the real world. Like it or not, Crystal did exist. Love was the ultimate four-letter word. Both Paul and Jovan had proven that fairytales were nothing but fictional stories. She was thankful Matt had allowed her their friendship, but that was all it was and all it ever could be. Now it was time to let go. “I’d like that, but I really don’t think Crystal would.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Probably?”

  He laughed again, the tone deep and rich, a sound she wished she could bottle and keep forever. “Not much question about it.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “I should go.”

  “In case I forget to say it tomorrow, I hope things go well with you and Crystal, and that you get that big family you want.”

  Again, his jaw twitched like he was working his way from what he wanted over to reality. “Thanks.”

  §

  Matt’s arms stayed in steady motion as he wheeled down the hallway the next morning after his last therapy session. His goal was to be packed by the time Crystal and his parents arrived. Get the car loaded up before the engine had time to cool off. And be on their way. Home.

  He had the wheelchair humming so fast he had to grip the push rims to slow down when he reached his room. His parents were already here, fowling up his “be packed before they showed up” plan, but he couldn’t think of a better plan to get messed up.

  His mother dropped the shirt she’d been refolding and rushed toward him. Her hug threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. He looked around the room the best he could while being pinned to his chair. His father stood by the window, grinning. He looked better, much better than when Matt had transferred from St. Luke’s. But he still looked older than he had before Matt’s accident. Maybe now that he was going home, that’d change.