Catch My Breath

by Wendy L. Wilson

  “Ok, do you need to rest or are you ready to stand?”

  No time like the present. “Let’s do this,” I say, nodding my head slowly and not wanting to bring on new pain in other areas.

  Slowly standing up, I bear most of my weight towards Stacey, who is someone I’ve come to trust completely.

  The way these other two giggle and stare at me, makes me worry that they may just let me fall right on them just so they can have something to talk about. Not to mention, sponge bath nurse looks to be all of a hundred pounds and seems to be more interested in glancing behind me instead of to where my feet are supposed to be moving.

  “Hang on.” The blonde darts past me to a closet by the sink while the other nurse with short dark hair, quickly rushes over to brace me up on my right side.

  Running back over, the blonde hands Stacey another gown and it is at this moment that I notice a cool draft blowing right up the back of my ass. Great!

  “Oh yes, we don’t want to be flashing everyone.” Stacey laughs “Let’s slip this on. You’re liable to give some of these gals a heart attack walking around with your robe flapping open.”

  The other two giggle while Stacey helps me slip the garment on the opposite way from the first one. After it is secured around the arm brace on my right arm, they have me take small steps at first. My legs wobble and bend in a mechanical effort.

  A few minutes later, Stacey helps me into the bathroom. This has got to be the most humiliating experience of my life. Luckily my feet are steady enough that I can stand alone and have some privacy, but after weeks of going without knowing I was my body doesn’t wanting to work quite right.

  “Ok, well … it’s not working,” my voice echoes in the small bathroom after a two to three minute stand-off with the toilet.

  She belts out a loud laugh, “That’s normal, honey. I assure you, all the plumbing will be back to working condition soon,” she hollers from right outside the bathroom door.

  Giving up for the moment, she helps me back out of the tiny room as I level her with a quizzical look. She says nothing, just laughs and as usual places her hand on my right elbow to gently guide me back to the bed. Not even ten minutes on my feet and fatigue soaks through me down to my bones. Once I sink into the bed, exhaustion from such a small task renders me defenseless, but after a little rest I am determined to try again.

  A couple more days stretch by with my life falling into a semi normal routine of playing on my laptop, eating, pacing up and down the hall and visits from Evan, Jake and even a few from Tiffany. I finally cancel my flight to California and also go online to apply for a grant to the local university. Even though I can’t play football, I would still like to go to college. Who knows, I may find something that I want to do with my life some day. This is the light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve waited for.

  This morning, I’m taken down for another chest x-ray to make sure that my internal injuries are healing well. After the doctor evaluates the scans and gives the all clear Nurse Stacey returned to my room with discharge papers. I’ve never been so happy in my life to sign my signature to a piece paper.

  “I am going to miss you, kid.”

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I smile at her then stand to give her a hug. She is almost six inches shorter than me, but when I’m around her I feel like a kid. She has a motherly air about her that has put me at ease and managed to keep a smile on my face for the past three weeks. This road would have been far bumpier if she had not been assigned to my room.

  “I’m going to miss you, too, but hey, I think I owe one hell of a hospital bill so they may have to come repo my ass in a few months. I might have to get a job washing dishes in the cafeteria to pay off my debt,” I huff out a laugh, being partially serious. Our bill has got to be ridiculous.

  “Ohhh … you’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t think there will be any complaints from the nurses if you have to come back,” she chuckles then steps back to look me over. “You better get changed up and swing by the front desk before you leave. You need a hand?”

  “Hey, hey, guess who is here to finally break you out of this hell hole.” Evan’s voice is a surprise.

  “Oh hey,” I crinkle my eyebrows over to Evan then quickly look back to Stacey. “No, I think I can manage. Evan might have to help me with my shirt and shoes.”

  “No way … I am not dressing your ass.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Stacey walks over, patting him on the cheek in a teasing manner. He smiles, eyeing her mischievously as she walks out of the room.

  “I thought Jake was taking me home.”

  “Something came up and he asked if I could come get you. Besides, I was hoping to get one last look at a couple of the nurses on this floor before you were sprung. So what’s up? We gonna get going?”

  He looks me up and down, scoffing at my awkward method of slipping one leg at a time into my jeans with slow, pained movements and only the use of one arm and a jacked up side.

  “Instead of laughing, you could help you know,” I point out, breathing through a sharp jab down my rib cage as I wiggle my jeans over my hips, carefully.

  He snickers, “What?! No way!”

  I cock my head and look up for a second, standing there, clumsily pressing my thumb and index finger together against the hard metal snap of my shorts. Gritting my teeth in frustration, the clasp makes a popping sound and I tilt my head forward, back to Evan.

  “Got it,” I huff out, pissed off that the smallest of tasks presents the biggest challenge at this point. “You wanna get the zipper for me,” I smirk, fully screwing with him as I tug it up slowly with one hand.

  “Hell no! I am not going near that.” He looks down and I crack up. Walking past me, he grabs my shirt off the bed. “I’ll help with this, but if you can’t zip up your fly … you’re just shit out of luck, man. I say just let the nurses window shop.”

  I choke out a burst of laughter as he helps maneuver my arm into the sleeve carefully, and then back into the sling. After I’m back in normal clothes, he helps me slip on my shoes, tying the laces like I’m a little kid.

  “Count your lucky stars that I’m helping you with this. I knew I should have said no when Jake asked me to come. I wouldn’t even do this crap for my brother or Dad if their right side was busted up.”

  I crook a smile and look at him as he gets the second shoe tied. “Yeah, but you don’t like either one of them.”

  He huffs out an amused chuckle and stands up. “That’s true.”

  I nod my head and stand with him, thankful that I’ve had a friend like him through the toughest times of my life.

  Walking out the door of my room and down the hall for, I am hoping, the last time, I quickly make eye contact with another person that I owe so much to. Stacey sits idly behind a computer screen at the nurse’s station in the hallway. She swiftly spots me, her cheeks lifting into a motherly smile.

  “Well, I guess I’m out of here,” I say, tapping my knuckles on the counter with a grin on my face. “Ok, sweetie,” she says with a sigh, “Here …” Sliding some paperwork and an appointment card towards me, she starts going over the details of my release, “I already scheduled an appointment with your doctor for Monday, August 18th. He will decide whether you get your brace off your arm then and set you up with weekly physical therapy. So now for the motherly advice …”

  Her cheeks puff up again, as she points her finger and raises her eyebrows in a semi-serious expression. Her words make me smile wider than I have in weeks.

  With her index finger held up between us, she starts a count down, “No more wrecks.” Raising a second finger, she adds, “No more getting punched.” A third finger is held up and she grins. “… and you better quit flashing that dimple of yours around here, because it’s driving these girls mad,” she lowers her voice for the last part and laughs.

  I ignore her request and grin anyways, looking around at several women, all of which have seemed to notice my presence as they giggle, whisper or re
turn a friendly smile.

  “Take care of yourself sweetie.” She pats the palm of her hand against the top of mine and leaves it there for a minute, looking at me with nothing but concern and compassion in her kind eyes.

  “I will. You, too, Stacey … bye … and ummm … thanks, for everything.”

  Evan trudges back down the hall after carrying my things down to the truck. “Alright, we’re out of here. It’s about time.”

  I turn and walk towards him as he walks closer, looking past me at Stacey with a smirk.

  “Oh boy, what are we going to do around here without you?” Stacey and several of the other girls start laughing, bringing all attention our way as we head towards the door.

  Holding his hands in the air like he is about to make a huge announcement, he flashes the nurses a cocky grin. “Ladies, I know your lives will no doubt feel vacant and worthless without seeing my face everywhere, but if anyone is looking for something to do on a Saturday night, I live only ten minutes from here and I’m always up for a sponge bath.” He chuckles and spins around by my side, headed for the door.

  Several goodbyes are called out, along with more giggling and smiling faces as we pass by.

  “Judd, wait.”

  I crinkle up my eyebrows in confusion. All the time I was here, everyone referred to me as either Anthony or Mr. Michaels. They had listed me in the system by my legal name and no matter how many times I corrected them; they still called me by the wrong name. Turning around, the good looking blonde that introduced me to sponge baths runs towards me. “Here.” She presses a piece of paper into my hand with a twinkle in her eye. “Call me.”

  No sooner than I grip the paper, she takes off down the hall before I can say a thing. Running my fingertips over the torn edge of the paper, I open my hand and look down.

  “Candy,” I whisper to myself with Evan peering over my shoulder.

  “Man, that’s a stripper name. Nice.” He nods his head and smiles. Staring down at the seven digits that she scribbled down on the torn scrap of computer paper, Evan adds in a shocking tone, “And you said she let you sponge yourself off … yeah, right. Apparently she saw something she liked during your supposed rub-a-dub-dub time.”

  I laugh at Evan’s attempt to rile me up as we head to the elevator and out the sliding double doors at the entrance of the hospital. I’ll let him think what he wants.

  Once we are headed down the highway, the last place I feel like going is back to the house. Jake is apparently busy, Tristan is still laid up in the hospital and the last thing I want to do is go home to an empty house when I’ll end up dwelling on the fact that my football career is over and that Alyssa tossed me aside.

  “Hey, can you swing by my mom’s?” Evan nods his head and takes the next exit. He knows where I’m talking about.

  Ten minutes later we pull up to the small playground that I played at as a kid.

  “You mind if I go alone?” I ask, feeling bad for bumming a ride then asking him to stay put.

  “Yeah, sure thing … I have some calls to make anyways.” He gives me a thumbs up.

  Pushing limb after limb and piles of brush out of my way with the crunch of dry, brittle ground under each of my footfalls, the tranquil sounds of water spilling into more water welcomes me to Mom’s fountain. After shoving one more branch out of my way, I step into her sanctuary and look around, breathing it all in. This is where I feel at peace; where I feel close to Mom. The sunlight filters through the trees, blanketing the fountain in a soft glowing light that sparkles across the water like shimmering crystals that have been cast along the surface.

  I slowly stroll over to the bench, careful to walk along the side of the walkway and avoid stepping on our carefully constructed pictures. Bending down to sit on the concrete bench, I gaze at the angel that looks up at me from the path. It’s just like my mom; beautiful and one of a kind. She would have been proud of us for finishing this place. This was our haven, our place to come to relinquish all our worries and fears. It became part of Mom when she was alive and when she died, she became part of it, surrounding us when we are here and wrapping us in her presence and love as if she is sitting right beside us.

  “Mom …” I whisper with a quivering voice, instantly losing all sense of control over my emotions as my eyes fog up. “I’m ok. I thought … I thought I was dying at first.”

  I clear my throat; I should tell her the whole story. So I start from the beginning, from the day I laid eyes on Alyssa. I ramble on and on as the daylight slowly flees from the sky. I’ve no doubt been here for hours, and although I keep expecting for Evan to call and tell me to get my butt back to the truck, I go on.

  “Mom, I wish you could have met her. She … I can’t even describe how beautiful she is. She made me happy.” My throat wobbles with that confession. God, she made me happy. “She made me happy like I’ve never felt; like everything in my life was finally going in the right direction,” I pause, looking down at my hands and fighting back a river of emotion. “I miss her.” I look up to the sky and the emptiness that was inside me before I met Alyssa is stronger than ever. “Mom, I wish you were here.”

  I talk for a bit longer then walk around the path, carefully brushing off crumbles of dirt, dried up leaves and stray pebbles that have littered the walkway. After a bit, I head back to the truck to find Evan passed out, with his head resting against the open driver’s side window and his feet kicked up across the seat. A loud creak sounds when I open the door to his grandfather’s old company truck, sending Evan nearly through the roof.

  “Geez!” he yells out, pulling his feet to the ground and bolting up.

  We both laugh, not even bringing up how long I’ve been gone. He understands what this place means to me. Aside from my brothers, he’s the only other one that has ever accompanied me here.

  The next several weeks run relatively smooth after I get used to the use of one arm. With my right arm in a sling and a massive brace that runs up to my neck, I have to learn to do a lot of things differently and slower. Television, which used to be something I had very little time for has become my best friend.

  Jake ended up running me to the college administration office a few days ago, and I am all lined up to start fall semester at the local college in Rosemore. Once I left the office with my line up of classes, I had a pit in my stomach knowing this is all real. I will not be going to UCLA and I will not be playing football. That mixed with the knowledge that Alyssa is miles away at Perdue happily in love with someone other than me, twists the knife a little further into my gut. I wonder if she has left for Indiana, yet.

  August 18th rolls around and I finally get my brace off. After the secretary sets up weekly appointments with a physical therapist and they give me a couple pages of at-home exercises, Evan and I head out. We go by his grandpa’s office so I can set up a schedule that will work around my classes and physical therapy. So far it is looking like I am going to be going 24/7, but I’m ok with keeping my mind busy.

  Hopping back in the white work truck that Evan drives most days, I have an idea that has been bouncing along the surface of my mind.

  “Hey man, you remember that gas station in Fairview that we used to drive a half hour out of our way after school just to get that insanely delicious buffalo chicken pizza?” I ask, reminiscing about good times from high school.

  “Oh, I forgot all about that. Yeah, I remember that. Why, you hungry? I can totally go for a slice right now.” It suddenly feels as if we’ve picked up speed and I laugh.

  “No … well, I mean sure we can get something to eat while we are there. Do you know that subdivision that is down the road from it? Twin Lakes or Spring Lakes … something like that?” I look over at him and notice a deep frown.

  “Yeah ….” He draws out the word and I get the feeling he may talk me out of my idea if he knows I want to go see where Alyssa lives. “I think I know where you’re talking about. It has that small dance studio right on the corner by the entrance, right?”
<
br />   Now he has lost me. “Since when have you taken dance?” I cock my head back in confusion.

  “Noooo … I didn’t take dance, dipshit … Piper did. That’s how she and Abby met. They started taking dance when they were kids. I went to this silly dance recital of hers back when I first met her. Actually she didn’t know I was there so I sat all the way in the …” Evan looks over at my scrunched up, baffled face and stops his ramblings. “Oh yeah, ok, so back to what you were saying. Why are we going there?”

  “Just go to the gas station and we’ll get a slice of pizza and go from there.” I throw that out, hoping he won’t ask any questions.

  “O … K …” he says staring ahead at the road.

  I need to hear from her what happened; I won’t be satisfied until she can look me in the eyes and say what we had meant nothing.

  Forty five minutes later, we are walking out of Ed’s Quick Stop with our bellies full and our mouths on fire from the flaming buffalo chicken goodness that we just crammed down our throat like we hadn’t eaten in weeks. I forgot how good that pizza was.

  Evan and I stand side-by-side on the curb in front of his truck.

  Stretching his arms up in the air, he lets out a loud yawn then speaks up, “So which way to Alyssa’s house?”

  I snap my head over to him, instantly sparking a spurt of pain in my neck from the sudden movement. “You know where I want to go and you’re not going to talk me out of it?”

  Walking to the driver’s side, he pulls the door open with a creak and looks back at me. I haven’t moved. I’m still in shock that he knew and never once thought to change my mind.

  “Yeah, well, her older sister took dance right there,” he points a block away to a small ancient looking brick building, “and the girl lives in Fairview. It’s not hard to figure it out. And no, I’m not going to talk you out of it, because she owes you an explanation. Hearing it from her would be one thing, but being told by her boyfriend is just shitty.”

  With that, I jump in and we drive into the subdivision, making slow turns so I can eye the house and look for the one she explained. I’m not sure of her house number and I came up blank when I searched online, but I do know that she has a row of flower boxes in the front yard that her and Abby planted flowers in the year her father had cancer. I also know that there is a large birdhouse, painted to match their home along the side corner, another project she enlisted Abby to help her with when they were depressed over the news of their dad’s sickness.