by Lorrie Kruse
His father left his perch and patted his wife’s shoulder. “Honey, let go. He’s turning blue.”
The greeting cards and Kaylee’s drawings that had papered the walls were gone. Boxes and bags lined a pushcart by the bed. Everything seemed to be in order for his release, except for one thing. Crystal was missing.
Crystal said she’d come. She’d asked for time off work as soon as they’d known his release date.
“I’m sorry.” His mother’s words came out choked. “It’s just this day’s been a long time coming.”
This day. His homecoming. After eight and a half long weeks, he was going home.
Reality struck hard. He was really going home. Today was no longer some abstract date in the future. It was today. Now.
His father stared at him with that shit-eating grin. The man who’d mentally had him back to work with that first quarter-sized patch of sensation.
His mother still hovered close by. The woman who’d had him walking down the aisle.
And his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to escort down that aisle, was nowhere to be seen.
The wheelchair suddenly felt too hard, pressing against every part of his body. He took small, quick breaths. None of his plans were panning out. The damn chair wasn’t supposed to be a part of this moment. He was supposed to be walking out of here.
“Honey?” his mother said.
His father stood straighter. “Matt?”
Matt forced a smile. “Just surprised by how much you got done already.” Where the hell was Crystal?
The toilet in the little bathroom flushed. His gaze shot to the bathroom door. Water ran in the sink. He held his breath. After what felt like a lifetime, the door finally opened and Crystal filled its void.
“You’re here.”
She laughed. “Of course I am.” She gave him a hug, one that felt one hundred percent genuine. “Are you ready to go home?”
Home. With her. He nodded and placed his hand in hers. “More than ready.”
The doctor knocked on the doorjamb and then entered the room. “I see you’re ready to go. However, I have some last-minute instructions.”
Matt nodded while the doctor reminded him to redistribute his weight often to avoid sores. He waited for the doctor to say something along the lines of Enjoy the wheelchair because you’re going to be in it forever. There’d actually be a level of relief in hearing those words. Something that would allow him to move forward without the pressure of maintaining the hope that he’d walk again. Something that would allow him to look his father in the eye and say, “Sorry, Dad, I screwed up. This is the best you get.”
The doctor was saying something about outpatient therapy. Before he knew it, the doctor was shaking his hand. No grim news that he may have reached his healing plateau. No release of responsibility.
“Good luck, Matthew. If you have questions, feel free to call.”
The doctor barely disappeared from sight when Esther came into the room, along with one of the CNAs. She held three glittery gift bags tied closed with curled ribbon streamers. “These are just some homemade cookies. Going home presents.” She put the bags on the cart. “Are you ready?”
Matt looked at his mother. The clothes were all packed, the suitcase now on the cart. She nodded. He tightened his fingers around Crystal’s. “Yep. I’m ready.”
Esther stepped behind him and gave the wheelchair a push. “I never did quite figure out this policy. We spend hours in therapy teaching you how to operate the chair in every possible situation, but we don’t let you wheel yourself out of the center.”
The cart rattled behind them, manned by the CNA.
Esther pushed him down the hallway. She stopped at the intersection to let a woman pushing a food cart pass. He looked toward the doorway to the gym. Behind those doors, Abby was busy being a pain in the ass with someone other than him.
He tightened his fists. Abby wasn’t his future. Crystal was. He looked back at his fiancée, grounding himself to his dreams. Home. He was going home.
The food cart moved down the hall and Esther turned to the left. Within minutes, they were in the lobby. Through the window, he could see Jenny’s mini-van parked in the first patient pickup spot. Esther pushed the button mounted on the wall and the doors parted. The wheelchair moved forward. He looked over his shoulder. “Let me.”
With a nod, she released the wheelchair. He placed his palms against the rims but didn’t move. The doors closed.
His palms grew sweaty. He let his gaze rove around the lobby and then looked through the glass at the outside world. Once he passed through those doors, this was going to be one hundred percent real.
His father cleared his throat.
His mother squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
His heart fluttered.
Crystal stood in front of him. She smiled and nodded at the doors. He moved his head up and then down, just a tiny fraction. Esther pushed the button and the doors slid open. A light breeze touched his cheeks. He took a deep breath and then pushed forward.
He was going home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The passing landscape of fields and woods, broken by the occasional town, had a mesmerizing effect on Matt. Through half-closed eyes, he stared at the back of his mother’s headrest while the speakers cranked out an old Pink Floyd tune. Something about dogs. A song he could easily live without, just like the rest of the CD. Unfortunately, the tune blipped through his head, anyhow.
Crystal had curled up against him somewhere around Fond du Lac, and she’d been asleep pretty much ever since. He wished he could have fallen asleep, as well. Then he wouldn’t have to listen to his father’s crap music. But now, they were almost home.
He blinked and tried to force his eyes open, but his eyelids went back to half-mast. Through tiny slits he saw the sign welcoming them to Fuller Lake. Population eight thousand three hundred and twelve. As if she had some built-in GPS, Crystal lifted her head. “We’re home, already?”
“Umm,” was his answer, but her words had a revitalizing effect on him. Home. He was back home. He looked from window to window at his hometown, soaking up all the sights, like he’d been away two years instead of two months.
The tires thumped over the cracks in the road. A rhythmic sound. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
“How does it feel to be back?” Crystal moved her hand. Sunlight bounced off her engagement ring.
He stared at the ring much the way he’d stared at his mother’s headrest earlier, wishing he could remember what had happened the night of the accident.
Forget it. Don’t wreck today with things you’re never going to figure out.
Today was a good day. He was on his way home. With Crystal. She’d already moved her necessary possessions to his house, mingling her belongings with his. Just like a married couple.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
But they weren’t a married couple. Not yet. And if this trial run failed, it’d be never.
The scenery flashed by too quickly now, as if life were zooming toward the unhappy conclusion of this test run. Certain his father was stuck on highway speed, he looked at the speedometer. Thirty. Five over the limit. Technically speeding, but allowable speeding.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
He put his hand against his ear, pressing it flat enough to feel the suction, but he could still hear the road’s mantra. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. His mind countered with—Stop. Stop. Stop.
“Matt?”
He tightened his arm around Crystal and told himself to chill out. She wasn’t going to leave. “It’s going to be good, babe.”
With determination, he told himself it would be good. Tomorrow, he’d wake up with Crystal at his side. Later, when they finally got out of bed, they’d make breakfast together, shower together, go shopping together. From now on, their lives would be spent…together.
Crystal settled her head against him again, trapping him between her and the seat. They passed the lake the t
own’s name was based on. It was actually a wide spot in a narrow river that cut through the city. To the west was the two-block stretch that made up the entire downtown. Most of the townsfolk complained about Fuller Lake’s small size, but that’s what Matt liked best. In a small town, everyone knew each other and there was a sense of family. In a big city, you simply were lost among the masses.
They proceeded north. Eight blocks later, his father slowed and turned on to Park Street. Matt watched as they passed familiar houses until they reached his block. He sat up straighter and scanned the left side of the block. Balloons and streamers hung from the gingerbread trim around his porch roof. A banner was spread across the white spindle posts. “Welcome home.” A mound of snow separated the driveway from a browned lawn. After a few more warm days, that snow would be gone, as well, and the lawn would go from brown to green.
His father slowed and pulled into the driveway. He came to a stop in front of the garage that was filled with Matt’s toys—motorcycle, snowmobile, riding lawnmower. Crystal’s CRX was parked on the lawn between the garage and the house.
The scene looked so normal. The only thing missing was his two-year-old Chevy Silverado, too mangled in the accident to salvage.
His gaze shifted toward the back of his house. A few feet of the newly constructed ramp showed. So much for “normal.” His father slid out from behind the steering wheel. A moment later, he reappeared, the empty wheelchair in front of him. Yup, so much for “normal.”
Matt looked over at his neighbor’s house. Mrs. Mezmitz peered out through the crack between the curtains. She waved and then let the curtains close. He knew she was still there. Watching him from behind the sheets of lace. He pulled the wheelchair into position. He could feel Mrs. Mezmitz watching as he awkwardly hauled his body into the chair. As long as there was a show, she’d watch. Putting an end to the entertainment portion of her day, he wheeled up the ramp that ran the length of his deck. His mother held open the door. The scent of fresh varnish filled the air. The kitchen looked the same, other than the addition of a coffee machine and new trim around the doorway leading to the hall.
“We had to widen the door,” his father said.
Matt gave the countertop another inspection. Other than the coffee maker, nothing had changed. Which was wrong. There should be more than just the coffee maker. The countertop should be filled with Crystal’s cat cookie jar and her canisters and all of the rest of her kitchen counter crap.
“Come see the bathroom,” his mother said, motioning him forward.
He wheeled his way around the refrigerator, through the doorway, and into the hall. He stopped in front of the open bathroom door. Like the kitchen, there was a lack of that feminine touch he’d been expecting. However, there were changes from the bathroom he used to know. The pedestal sink that had been in hibernation in the garage since December was now in place, the mirror lowered to his eye level. Gone was the claw-foot tub. In its place was a modular shower stall. A manual showerhead was visible through the opaque glass, the showerhead placed three and a half feet from the floor. A plastic shower bench was visible, as well. A built-in wood cabinet filled the space between the wall and the shower unit.
Everything perfect for a paralyzed man.
“What’d you do with my tub?”
“It’s in the storage shed for now.”
Matt nodded, but he wanted everything put back where it belonged. The claw tub back in the bathroom. The pedestal sink back in the garage. The “paralyzed-man” shower stall back at the home improvement center.
He started to back out of the room but stopped when he noticed something shiny on the wall next to the toilet. He rubbed his hand over his mouth as he stared at the handrail. The lowered showerhead was bad enough, but a friggin’ handrail. In his house. For his use.
He wiggled his toes.
If anyone’s a rule breaker, it’s you.
Hang on to the hope, he reminded himself as he backed out of the bathroom. He was more than happy to escape the room so full of evidence that he was no longer the same man he’d been the last time he’d been in his house.
The varnish scent almost gagged him as he followed his father into the room that used to be a den. The carpet had been removed, the hardwood floors resurfaced. A closet had been built in the corner of the room.
He’d expected to find Crystal’s frilly comforter and bed ruffle. Instead, his old blanket covered the bed that was centered on the wall with access from either side.
Her comforter, his blanket—didn’t matter. What mattered was that the bed wasn’t just his anymore. Tonight, Crystal would be there with him. Maybe sooner, if he could convince her to take a nap with him. The second wind he’d gotten was winding down.
A lot of time and care had gone into the remodeling project. Other than the missing tub and the addition of the handrails, he liked the changes. He looked up at his dad. “I appreciate you having done all this for me.”
“Actually, you should thank Derrick,” his mother said. “He did most of the work.”
He’d have to thank Derrick when he came over later. There weren’t plans in the works for a visit, but he couldn’t imagine his friend staying away.
Matt wandered over to the closet and ran his fingers against the glossy doors. Like usual, Derrick had done an outstanding job. With a head full of brains, Derrick could have done anything with his life. Instead, he’d forgone college to work for Matt’s dad, something Matt never could understand, but it’d been to his father’s benefit.
He opened the closet door. The clothes rod was lower than normal, putting the hangers in Matt’s easy reach. More proof of how much his world had changed.
His shirts were evenly spaced across the rod. His mother’s touch. Matt gave the clothes another look, a frown forming. “Crystal? Where are your clothes?”
“I put them upstairs.”
“Why?”
“So my clothes would be where I am.”
Why’d she have to make this so difficult? Especially now, when he was too tired to deal with it. What the heck did she think she’d be sleeping on, anyhow, since his bed was now down here?
He turned the chair toward her. “Babe, you forget the idea of you moving in was so you’d know what you’re getting yourself into as my wife? Won’t work if you’re not here—” he waved his hand through the air “—with me.”
Someone knocked on the outside door. A second later, he heard his niece call out. “Unka Matyou. Where Unka Matyou?”
He felt pulled in two directions, eager to get a hug from his niece but also needing to know Crystal understood. He held his ground.
Crystal looked down. “Fine. I’ll sleep here.”
He didn’t like being a concession. Before he could say anything further, his niece came bounding through the door like a puppy. “Unka Matyou.”
§
His brother, Jenny, and Kaylee had been just the start of the visitors who flooded his house, taking away any chance of a nap. Within an hour, it looked like he was hosting a party, complete with food and beer that had appeared like magic, along with all the people.
Across the room, Crystal sat with her back toward, him chatting with Jenny. Earlier, she’d been talking to his mother. Before that, with Travis. Every time he’d looked at her since Brad and Jenny had arrived, she’d been wrapped up in one conversation or another. Always with someone else. Which was okay. He’d have her all to himself when everyone left. And there was tomorrow. When he’d wake up with her beside him. They’d have all the alone time they needed then.
The only person Crystal hadn’t struck up a conversation with was Derrick. Because Derrick was probably the only person in all of Fuller Lake who hadn’t made an appearance yet. He’d be here, though. No doubt about it. No way his best friend would miss his coming home.
“Quite the party.” Sam pulled a chair closer.
“Yeah.” Quite the party. Noise and smoke and Crystal a hundred miles away on the other side of the room. And him, wi
thout a nap. “It’s great you all popped in like this.”
“Man, it’s so good having you back again. I tell you, pool just hasn’t been the same with you gone. Think you can shoot in that thing?” He waved toward the wheelchair.
“We’ll see.” The way he felt right now, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not with him being so tired.
“Maybe we can convince the league to give you extra shots, on account of the chair.” Sam winked. “If you don’t need the extra shots we can just keep it a secret, give our team a little edge.”
Win by cheating. Sam always had been lax on sportsmanship. “Sure. Great idea.”
“If you get nothing but air, you get a do-over. And you’d get one free scratch per game.”
Twenty minutes later, Sam was still brainstorming ways to use Matt’s wheelchair to their advantage. In the meantime, visitors came and went. Matt propped his head up with his hand and nodded like he was taking in all of Sam’s suggestions.
He liked Sam, but he wanted him to shut up and go home and take everyone with him. He wanted to crawl into bed and call today done—and it wasn’t even eight yet. How sad was that?
His eyelids drooped. He shook his head, trying to hang on. He couldn’t go to sleep. Not when Derrick hadn’t come yet. His eyelids slid closed. He left them closed. Just for a minute, he told himself. Just to rest up so he’d be raring to go when Derrick finally showed up. Where was he, anyhow?
Sam’s voice blended in with the steady hum of background voices. Someone laughed. Matt wondered what was so funny, but he wasn’t curious enough to check it out. Sleep. He just wanted sleep.
Just when he was about to surrender, he felt a miniature mountain climber scaling his legs. “What have I got here?” he asked as he tickled his niece.
