by Dale Mayer
“Heavy thoughts?”
She raised her head to meet his gaze and smiled. “Just a further realization that, although I’ve been friendly, I haven’t been terribly welcoming or inviting of others into my life.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said. “It takes time to settle in, and it takes time to trust those around us. To know who they are. Don’t settle into a new place too quickly or jump in to make friends right away. Sometimes it’s better to understand who they all are and decide which ones you want to make friends with first.”
“Oh, I’ve done that. But sadly it’s time to stretch a little more.”
“So why not go around and ask people if they want to ride to town with you and what they like to do?”
She studied his face suspiciously, but he seemed genuinely curious. “We’re organizing a trip to town for the more mobile patients,” she said. “Depending on where and what people would like to do, we’ll run several such trips. For people who like to go shopping we will do a trip to the mall. Some people might want to get out and do something at the parks if that’s possible.”
“Although I have challenges, I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the area. A day trip sounds great.”
She smiled. “I’ll put your name down on the list then, pending your medical team’s approval. What is it you’d like to do? Go for a drive to get away, or do you need to go shopping for something in particular?”
He frowned. “I don’t think I have anything I need to do. Although, if a bank is close by, I could use an ATM machine.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll let you know what days we set up and which places we’ll go to.” She stood. “Do you need a hand back to your room?” She picked up their two coffee cups and waited for his answer.
He shook his head. “I have another fifteen minutes until my session with the doctor this afternoon. I think I’ll stay right here and enjoy the sun a little while longer.”
She held up his coffee cup. “You want a refill?”
He glanced at it and shook his head. “Nope, thanks. I’ll sit here, relax, close my eyes, and I’ll take my time getting back to my room.” He glanced at her. “But thank you for your help.”
She shrugged. “Anytime.” She walked back inside and deposited the dirty cups on the appropriate cart.
Dennis winked at her. “Is this another shipboard romance happening?”
She shook her head. “Not likely.”
He studied her intently for a long moment. “Not so sure about that. Looks to me like a nice pairing.”
She flushed again, made her excuses and hurried off to her office. His chuckle followed. She winced. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know how much she liked Denton. But apparently, it was already obvious.
Inside though, the thought of a romance between the two of them was enough to make her heart smile. Nothing would come of it, of course, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the moment.
Then she’d need to move back to reality—and fast.
Denton was lucky. Luckier than he thought. So many things came easily for him. But talking with Hannah made him realize that, for some people, making friends was hard. She appeared to be a lovely person. But friendships developed over time. Good friends were there through the hard times, not just the good times. Of course, the BUD/s training had brought him and Brock and Cole together. It was the worst time of his life, but it was also one of the best. And if someone didn’t have an experience like that in their life, with people at their side, Denton could imagine it would be hard to bond at that level. He also had to remember that, just because he had friends here, the work was still his to do. His friends would be there to cheer him, but Denton was the one who had to take those steps.
He was the one who had to do the work and to show the progress. He was the one who had to go from point A to point B, and if he didn’t make it, it was all on him. And that was one thing he knew he avoided really looking at. He was trying hard to be here, trying hard to do whatever needed to be done, but there was a lot of pressure. It wasn’t that they used the pressure to make him advance—it was pressure he was putting on himself. It didn’t have to be that way. But he didn’t want to be less of a success story than his friends were. He didn’t want them to look at him and point out his performance. He didn’t want to lose their respect because he fell and gave up.
Was he worrying too much about their opinion? They were friends but still … he’d always been his own man. At least in his head, but things were different here … he hated the feeling but insecurity ate at him. And he found himself questioning everything he did.
That was something about having friends. You wanted them to admire what you’d done. You wanted them to feel proud of you. But when they didn’t feel proud of you, you also needed them to get in your face and say, Buck up and go on. No room here for slackers.
If recovery had taught him one thing, it was that a whole group of people in rehab gave up early on. These people said the work was too much. They achieved a certain level of health, and that was okay. It was an acceptable level for them, and then they didn’t try anymore. Because the rest of it was hard. It was really hard. The pain was incredible for the level of physicality that they were expected to do.
The delving into psychological issues and fears was equally as hard. And he knew that bothered him the most. He’d barely even touched the surface with his group counselor. Denton had so much to be grateful for that he got impatient at himself for being so afraid. Even if it was natural. As if he expected to be above that. Unlike a lot of people, he didn’t have a network of business associates ready to offer him jobs or money. He didn’t have a wife to go home to or children who didn’t care what kind of shape he was in, yet were simply happy that he came home.
He was alone. His mother had passed away a few years back. His friends were here, but they also had their own lives. And for the first time, Denton realized that with them having partners, those relationships could easily end up in marriage. His friends could end up developing families and different lives away from him. He’d never considered that.
Even while they were all doing their military thing, Denton knew there was a possibility of all of them going in opposite directions once they left the military. But that was sometime out in the distant future. When it came sooner than expected and in an unlikely way, they all were doing their best to get back on their feet, and automatically that meant getting back together again. That they came together to heal was huge. But as they healed, the faster they moved on with their individual lives. The others were moving at a faster rate than Denton was. But it wasn’t the rate that bothered him. It was the fact that, as they moved on, they might move far away.
People had a lot more opportunities to maintain friendships over long distances because of the Internet, but it wasn’t the same as having the guys right next door—barbecues in the backyard, slinging beer on a Friday night, closing the day down.
Denton was tired, but he still had to return to his room to deal with the next item on his schedule.
He needed his appointment with the shrink today. She appeared to be very knowledgeable and very intuitive. Almost too intuitive. He slowly made his way to his room. This session would be in his room, and that was a darn good thing. The only good thing about the whole appointment was being able to get out of the chair and up onto the bed, maybe even put a blanket over his legs. He already felt chilled now because he knew the next session would be hard emotionally.
It was also hard to rip yourself apart, figuring out what was wrong on the inside and what was stopping you from being the best you could be in handling all the things thrown at you. You had to get away from the guilt of getting injured and to stop playing the blame game—both difficult to walk away from.
Why had it been him? Why hadn’t it been someone else? Why had he been the one in the unit assigned to this post? Why had he been asked to drive that truck? And the blame just continued. He hadn’t thought he held ve
ry much of that inside. But the more his therapist dug in, the more she prodded, and the more she poked, he realized that, indeed, although he may not have had much of his anger visible, he still held a lot of it inside. He knew it was also necessary to get rid of it, but purging one’s soul was darn hard.
He was grateful when he got to his room and realized the psychologist hadn’t arrived yet. He made his way to the side of the bed, and using the bed for support, he slowly stood up, again hating the shakiness of his limbs. He sat down, shuffled his butt until he was leaning against the headboard and pulled up the blanket from the end of the bed over his legs. As he studied his damaged calf, a tremor rippled up and down the muscles. He pulled the calf toward him and gently massaged it. He had a cream the therapist had given him. He opened that tube, put some cream on his fingers and slowly worked it deep into the muscle. He knew it was better than before, but it was hard to see any improvement from ten days ago.
In fact, the improvements were all about pain. He was digging deeper, and that was an improvement. He was pushing himself harder, and that was an improvement. But he wasn’t seeing the results he wanted to see. He was becoming impatient. After a ton of hard work and time, he wanted to see the results. And he understood in his own mind how hard Brock must have worked because Denton had seen how Brock had been right after his accident.
Brock had been flat on his back and in terrible shape. To see the man now, well, there was absolutely zero comparison. The same for Cole. Denton understood a lot about what had happened to Cole when he’d first arrived. He had teased him about it gently because Cole had always felt like he was playing catch-up. Denton hadn’t felt the same way. But in one way, he did understand Cole’s competitiveness, Cole’s need to prove himself in light of Brock’s rehab success.
Raised with little money, and often with government subsidies or charity, Denton always had a sense of I don’t deserve this. People are doing this because I’m injured. It was the same as when he was growing up—people would be nice to him because his mother was poor, and his life must, therefore, really suck. It was hard to argue with that logic.
But this left an underlying fear that he hadn’t gotten anywhere on his own. Case in point, like it had taken others to get him here to Hathaway House.
A lot of things about his life hadn’t been easy. But he had loved his mom. They’d been very close. The two of them had as much fun as any father, mother and son combination could have, but no doubt, there had been hard times. It was difficult to see other families operate in a typically normal way versus what he had experienced. When she’d died, he’d turned to Brock and Cole. And they’d been there for him.
As he lay here, tired, worn out and with a full tummy, he heard a knock at the door. He rolled his head to the side and smiled when he saw Dr. Hutchinson. “Good afternoon, Doc.”
She smiled and waved at him. “Considering you’re in bed, maybe I should say good evening. Are you ready to sleep? Had a tough morning?”
Her gaze was intense, and he knew her eyes understood so much more than he would like. That was one thing about the people here—it didn’t matter which staff member was helping him, it was like they all could see into his soul.
“I am more tired than usual.” He stretched out his bad leg, closed the tube of cream and pulled the blanket back over it. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have enough energy to talk with you though.”
She chuckled. “Our sessions don’t always have to be difficult.”
“So you say,” he said, knowing he sounded slightly cynical. “But it hasn’t exactly been easy so far.”
“It’s not like you’re in tears and angry about any of it.”
He shrugged. “What good would that do?”
She nodded, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “So, tell me the truth. How do you feel about being here?”
He had to think about it for a long moment, and then he was as honest as he could be. “I’m very pleased to be here.”
“Would you have gotten the same care, the same advantages, the same improvements elsewhere?”
He nodded. “Quite likely I could have. But here I have the added benefit of having both my buddies with me.”
“How does that make you feel?”
He smiled. “Loved, secure, happy and grounded.”
And damned if she didn’t come at him with another dozen questions. He did his best to answer everything. As he’d found out with her, every time they had a session, a little bit more of himself was revealed. Sometimes that was good, sometimes bad.
“Do you feel that your friends are responsible for your improvement?”
He shook his head. “No. They created their milestones ahead of me, and they’re cheerleaders, but when the work is there in front of me, only one person has to do it, and that’s me. They have their own work to look after. It’s up to me to deal with mine.”
“Good answer. Have you made any attempt to meet new friends?”
He frowned at her. “You asked that last time, and I thought it odd then too.”
She shrugged. “I need to know that you aren’t closing yourself off from other people. You came here with the expectation of having friends already in place, and often we find that means people aren’t open to making new connections.”
Her words somewhat echoed Hannah’s earlier comment, and he settled back and considered that. “I’d like to think I am open to making new friends. But you may be right. I came knowing I had friends and a friend group already in place, and I didn’t worry about anything else.”
“And you think that’s good for you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what’s good for me anymore. And I can only handle so many self-improvement things on a day-to-day basis, and if that’s not one of them, then that’s not one of them. I have to do what’s best for me right now, not what might be good for other people.” He studied her carefully. “Has anybody complained that I’ve been unfriendly?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “I haven’t heard any. I wondered if you were feeling open to making new friends or if you feel you’re complete with the two you have.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Once again Hannah’s face and her comment about having difficulty making friends rose to the forefront. “I don’t know,” he said, his tone short.
“Well, think about it over the next few days, and let me know if anything comes to mind.” She checked her watch. “I’m afraid we’ll have a short session today. I have to deal with a couple patients coming and going.”
He hated that his insides jumped for joy. He hoped it wasn’t something he had said or one of his answers. Because it would make him feel like he needed to work on something else. What he wanted was to relax and not work on anything. He wanted to have a normal day.
She stood. “I understand they are arranging some trips into town. Are you interested in going?”
“Hannah already signed me up.” He waited, wondering if that was all she would ask. But she smiled and nodded and wrote something down on her tablet that worried him. She made her way to the door.
He couldn’t help himself. “What did you just write down?”
She raised an eyebrow. “A note about you wanting to go into town.” She gave him a brighter smile and then left.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he believed her.
He hated the worry, the doubts. That was one thing about his medical team. They were here for him, but at the same time, he wanted to know what they saw when they looked at him.
He thought he was doing fine—or was he deluding himself?
Chapter 7
If Hannah had known how much fun it would be setting up trips to town, she would have proposed the idea ages ago. Over the next few days she found herself enjoying having the chance to talk to all the different patients, to see what it was they were looking for in an outing—to shop and to visit people. Some wanted to get out because the walls were closing in on them, and they needed a c
hange of scenery. Some had brought up activities, like bowling or seeing a movie. Several wanted to go to the mall because they needed clothing or stuff that they hadn’t had a chance to pick up themselves, and others needed to replenish personal hygiene items. She made extensive notes, then a couple days later met with Dani. She sat down in the visitor’s chair and smiled at her boss.
“That was fun and a little frustrating.”
Dani’s grin widened, and she leaned back in her chair.
“We have fourteen requests to go to town. Of those, ten would like to go on the first trip, if possible.”
“Well, we were looking for ten. So that works.”
“Sure, but none of them agree on what they want to do. One wants to see a movie. Another wants to visit the dentist.” Hannah raised her eyebrows as she glanced over at Dani. “Never even occurred to me that somebody here might need to go to the dentist, but of course, you don’t have a dentist or hygienist coming here, do you?”
Dani chuckled. “Nope, we sure don’t. We arrange for the dentist or optometrist trips as required. Some must go in for the prosthetic engineering, et cetera. We set these visits up all the time. But I’m not sure that should be part of a social outing.”
Hannah agreed. “Several want to go shopping. Some need shaving gear. Some need a couple more T-shirts, underwear, socks—that type of thing. Everybody was excited at the idea of getting out.”
“Good. So, if we remove the one who needs to go to the dentist—I’ll make arrangements for him on his own—that leaves nine, correct?”
“Yes, but I’m thinking Roger might still want to go out for the day. A dental trip can be handled separately, but I don’t think he should come off the list.”
“Okay, we can take ten but half that would be better. We also wanted to keep this as a fun social trip, not for shopping, but might manage to combine it. We’ll have the driver and some other staff, depending on the ambulatory level of those going,” she said. “Let me see the list.”
Hannah handed over the sheet of paper.
