by Dale Mayer
They got their coffees and headed back toward Dani’s office.
Once inside, Sidney sat down in the visitor’s chair. “I’m really glad to be back.”
Dani smiled, picking up a stack of files, including a very thick one on top, and handed it to her. “I’m really glad to have you back.” She nodded at the top folder and added, “And not just because of Brock.”
“You have others like him?” Sidney laughed. “Sounds like I returned just in time.”
“You know normally we only have one this difficult at a time.” Dani groaned. “He’s the most difficult, but there are a few others that need a little something extra.” She smiled at Sidney. “You have that something extra.”
“I’m just me.”
“That means you are just perfect for here.”
Brock stared at the empty doorway. He wasn’t sure what to think of the new therapist. There hadn’t been anything wrong with any of the others. But he certainly hadn’t been motivated to do his best or give his deepest efforts. He knew there was something wrong inside him, but he’d given acting normal a good shot. He’d thought he had them fooled but apparently not.
Or they were bluffing.
Instantly, he tossed that idea out. They were all professionals here. He’d seen it over and over again. It was really himself he was trying to fool. But why? He stared down at his big hands. His big mitts. That was what his sister had always called them. He supposed they were, especially when compared to her small, long, slender fingers. But his mitts were meant for hard, physical work. Shovels fit perfectly in his hands, as did hammers and saws and any other kind of tool, but especially weapons. He’d always reveled in his physical strength—his ability to do the hard work. So many hated it, but he loved it. His body rejoiced in using his muscles, using his strength. He’d grown fast and tall and hadn’t really been aware he was the tallest in the family and still growing. Then, he’d started to fill out. While he was in high school, he’d taken on several part-time jobs. Roofing was one of them, and that was because he loved carrying the big packs of tiles around the roofs. If he did nothing else but carry them up and down all day long, he was content.
His appointment to the military had been perfect for him. He’d reveled in the physical training, and he’d excelled at the mental discipline. It had been a really good fit until his accident. But now he was no longer active. They might be able to find a job for him at a desk, or in some supply office, but how did one go from being the best of the best to being … almost nothing at all?
He certainly didn’t want to mock those not in the navy. It wasn’t for everyone. But it was for him.
As for him, a desk job would kill him. It wasn’t what he wanted to do—it wasn’t what he could do, and it wasn’t what he should do.
But his active military lifestyle was over. The phone call had finished it. He shook his head, staring out the window. He had been doing fine until that. It wasn’t that he had felt self-pity, or had self-doubt, it was more about apathy. A lack of caring. It was like his wellness was over, so now, who gave a damn? Like he wanted to beg for a tour in Iraq he would just not come home from. Surely that would be better than the slow wasting away here.
He’d spoken with his counselor several times, but he hadn’t managed to tell him about the phone call shutting down his last avenue in the military. There would be such finality if he actually verbalized it. While nobody knew, it seemed like it wasn’t real. There was hope of something changing it. But of course, he was only fooling himself.
Besides, the counselor had mentioned antidepressants earlier as well. That was the last thing he wanted. That was just going to put a pretty mask on a sad situation. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but he wanted to solve the problem—permanently. That meant finding another purpose in life. He couldn’t go back to the straight physical work he had been doing. And he was nowhere as young as he had once been. He was thirty-three—the navy had been the best of the best in all things. He’d been a SEAL. Achieving that status had been a crowning glory of his life. Now, it was over. He’d had six good years there. At thirty-three he hadn’t been ready to leave. But life—and the brass—had decided otherwise.
It wasn’t that he was fighting his physiotherapy, because he wasn’t, but neither was he actively working toward his recovery. In high school, one of the classes they’d been forced to take was several weeks’ worth of meditation. Now, the world was so stressful if he could relearn the basics, maybe it could help him get through this stage more easily. There had been one particular exercise that came back to him now. They had to imagine themselves in a cloud, completely surrounded by a white fog and unable see the ground or the sky. All they could see when they looked down was a few inches of tiling underneath their feet. The instructor had said they had to take a step forward. Brock had asked her how they could take a step forward when they had no idea what was ahead of them. She’d smiled and said that was the point of the exercise. One had to have faith.
He’d never managed to complete the exercise because he didn’t have faith. Not in himself. He’d been raised without religion. A cocky young man who hadn’t needed it. Faith was for other people. In time, he had understood. It wasn’t so much about faith and religion, as it was about being able to trust. Trust that there was going to be something, or someone, there to catch him if he should fall. Trust that if his feet were standing on something solid he could find the next step he needed to take. And here he was, lying in bed again, trying to surround himself with that cloud. He needed to step forward, but because he couldn’t see where he was going, he didn’t know how to take that step. It was all because, of course, he had no faith, no trust that something would break his fall. He didn’t even know if the direction he was going to choose was the one he wanted to be traveling in.
He knew there was something deeply personal in all of these musings. He had yet to find a truth that would help him navigate these troubled waters. He knew the new therapist was going to arrive soon, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for her, either. She reminded him of one of his old military superiors. Someone so high and mighty he tried to force everybody to do his bidding just so he could feel all-powerful.
In the military, he saw all kinds of people. He had to work with all kinds of people. Maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t need to do that anymore. He didn’t have to take her attitude if he really disliked her. He could complain. Have one of the others again.
Yet, he’d accomplished little here so far. He had only pushed himself to a point. He had done what he was supposed to do, nothing more. He realized that as far as he was concerned, he was still standing in a cloud. If he pushed himself any harder, it was going to force him into the unknown. In which case … what if he fell?
Chapter 2
Sidney studied the thick file in front of her. She was still sitting in Dani’s office going over the material. There was a packet of X-rays in the back, too. She realized Brock had sustained more injuries than she’d expected. She frowned as she read the notes about the original damage. He’d been to hell and back. A wrenched back, several broken bones, ripped tendons and severed muscles. The damage extended from his central spine around to the side and even his hip flexors were a mess. She shook her head. “How long has he been here?”
“Four weeks,” Dani said.
Sidney nodded. She flipped back to the beginning of the file to see the other therapy reports. He was a hard worker but only to the point he was pushed. He never gave any extra. It was like he was doing what he had to do, but no more. If they told him six feet, he made sure it was six feet, but he never did six feet and a quarter. And that wasn’t good because it meant he wasn’t engaged in his own healing.
She sifted through the papers, looking for the psychologist’s report, and studied several of the notations on it. He had his own file he kept on every patient, but when it was necessary for the team to understand what was going on, he’d add notes to the generic case file.
Sidney did
n’t want to have to point out these revelations to Brock. That wouldn’t help him heal as much as if he figured it out himself. That was what this place was about—healing on all levels. Being told what to do, and actively engaging in doing what needed to be done, were two different things.
She stood with his file in her hand and said, “I’ll go talk to Brock now.”
Dani looked up and nodded. “Take it easy on him. He’s had a rough couple of nights. Nightmares again. He hasn’t been able to tell anybody about them yet. That will happen over time.”
“It would be good to know if there was a specific trigger for their return.” Sidney held up the file. “Not that nightmares need a trigger. They sit in our subconscious ready to rise at any moment.”
“You can always ask if you find the right moment. Maybe you can get it out of him.” Dani gave her a bright smile. “If anybody can, you can.”
Sidney shook her head with a laugh. “Such confidence.”
“And well placed.”
With a last glance at Dani, Sidney walked out and headed toward Brock. It was now nine-thirty in the morning. Hopefully, he was up and doing something active. It was up to her to get him moving. She knew he wasn’t going to want to be tested, to be pushed, to see how far he could go. There might be an easier way to figure out why he was holding back. She’d read every note and understood the others’ take on it, but she was coming at the problem from a slightly different angle. She specialized in these big guys. They were all stubborn, but they usually had huge hearts. When they shut that down it was like everything else stopped working. If their heart wasn’t in it, nothing was going to move.
She stopped at his doorway and studied him. She couldn’t help the pang of disappointment to see he was still lying on the bed. At least he was fully dressed. He was ambulatory, unlike so many others at the center. He could walk on his own somewhat, with the help of crutches to ease the pain in his back. But right now he was doing nothing but staring out the window. His fists clenched repeatedly in a rhythmic movement. She didn’t think he was deliberately trying to do an exercise—rather, it was emotion driving them.
She plastered a bright smile on her face, rapped sharply on the door and walked in.
“Okay, I’m back. I’ve got this monster of a file here, and I’ve flicked through some of it, but obviously, I don’t have time to read it all at the moment. I will later. What I do want you to do is tell me one of the aspects you like about the physio you’ve done so far and which part of it you don’t like.”
Instead of sitting in a chair beside him she sat down on the end of his bed. He didn’t shift his legs to give her more space, just stared at her with that deep, dark gaze.
As she studied him she saw the first sign of the emotional weakness. Grief.
Seeing that, she changed her approach. She went from domineering and powerful to something gentler. She didn’t understand what was going on inside him, but there was something so dramatic that it had worked its way through every part of his psyche. They were going to have to get to the root of that, but she couldn’t do it without him trusting her.
“It’s important to discuss what you like and what you don’t like, so we can work together on a program that you will push yourself on.” She kept her voice neutral and in control. She studied his gaze, but it had switched back to looking out the window. “I certainly have a program we can start with, if you prefer.”
Again, no answer. She bounced to her feet and said, “Or, I can be a hard-ass.”
Her reward for that was a tiny sniff.
She grinned. “I guess you don’t believe me.”
At that, his gaze shifted back to look at her. His eyes swept her from her toes and back up again.
“You’re about a hundred and fifty pounds, nowhere near my ‘mean.’ For all your talk, you’re a marshmallow on the inside,” he said. “I’ve been brutalized by the best. Go ahead and do your worst.”
“I don’t have any intention of trying to force you into a wheelchair or into doing exercises. That’s not what I’m here for. I’d rather spend my time with somebody who is trying than waste it trying to get somebody to give a damn. I thought you were a former SEAL. All-in, all the time. But I guess not. You’re just dead weight.” She stepped forward and put herself into his line of vision. “If you don’t want to be here, I’m sure we can get you the hell out.” She looked down at her watch and said, “I’ll be back in an hour. You make your decision. You’re either in that wheelchair, ready to get down to the exercise room, or I’ll tell Dani you’re looking for a transfer out.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked out. Like hell she was going to deal with that shit. He was either in here or he was out, but she needed to know right from the beginning. As she went down the hallway she meekly pinched the bridge of her nose and realized how quickly he had gotten to her. She could see why Dani was happy to have her back. She’d had several other difficult patients before, and they’d often refused to do very much. This wasn’t a holiday. His bed was needed for somebody who wanted to have an active part in their own healing and recovery.
She poked her head into Dani’s office. “I’m still standing.”
Dani chuckled. “Didn’t get too far the first time?”
“Actually, I told him that if he wasn’t going to be taking part in getting into his wheelchair and getting ready to go do what we needed to do, then I’d tell you that you needed to do a transfer.”
“If he wants to transfer out,” Dani said, leaning back in her chair, her expression thoughtful, “then of course, he can do that.”
“Then can you start looking into that?” Sidney replied.
Sidney walked out of Dani’s office with heavy sigh. She understood they wanted everyone here to do well, but Sidney was more of the opinion they needed to help those who were ready to help themselves. This wasn’t a rest home for those who wanted to retire from living. She walked out onto the deck and grabbed a cup of coffee. Yet another that she probably didn’t need. Then she caught sight of the Major. She had no idea if Dani’s father had officially obtained that rank, or if it had been tossed onto his shoulders as a joke at some point, but it just stuck. His face lit up when he saw her, and he opened his arms.
She put her coffee cup down on the closest table and hugged him.
“Oh, my goodness, it’s so good to see you,” she said with a big smile. And indeed, it was. He was brimming with health and vitality. “I can see you haven’t had a bad day since I left,” she said in admiration. “You’re looking very fit and relaxed.”
“Doctor’s orders,” he said with a big grin. “Now that Dani is happily together with Aaron I can relax a little bit.”
Sidney laughed. “Is this a temporary situation, or do you really think this is it?”
He lost some of his humor, and instead she saw a deeper satisfaction in his gaze. “You know, I think they just might make it. Aaron is a good man and more than that, now that he’s got his own health back, he cares about others. Those here and those that want to come … He’s a huge asset to both the center and a great partner for Dani.”
“Then I’m jealous,” Sidney announced. “Wish we could all be so lucky.”
“Stick around here. I’m sure you’ll find somebody to love.” He nodded behind him and said, “There are a lot of men here looking for a good woman.”
Sidney shook her head and smiled. “But that’s against the rules, you know.”
The Major waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Pshaw. Rules are sometimes meant to be broken. People are always looking for love.”
“Most of the men here are looking for new lives. They’ll take them any way they can get them, and that doesn’t necessarily include love.”
He chuckled. “Bring your coffee over my way and sit for a minute,” he said, motioning to a table out in the sunshine. “Bring me up to speed. How was the course?”
She took her coffee and joined him. The Major had always been interested in e
verybody in this place. When Sidney finally checked her watch, she saw she’d been there longer than twenty minutes.
“You have to be someplace?” the Major asked in surprise. “Are you working already today?”
“Absolutely. Dani’s a slave driver.” They grinned at each other, because, of course, it was just the opposite. In many ways, Dani was too easygoing, but she had people working for her that were independent, self-motivated and driven. They didn’t need mothering. They just needed to be let loose to do their thing. Sidney could count herself at the top of that list. Suddenly, her phone rang. She clicked on it to see Shane’s name.
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl, I heard you just got back, but it’s not like you to be late.”
“Late?” She didn’t have a place to go. “I have no place to be late for.”
“Your patient’s here. He’s already set up on the weights.”
“Brock?” she asked slowly. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
“You got it. He’s been here a while, and we don’t seem to get along too well. So, you may just want to come down here and help us out.”
She knew he was only half joking. They were professionals, and everybody did the job they had to do. But like in any small community, there were those they got along with better than others. Brock had made a point of not getting along with anybody.
Nobody liked to carry dead weight.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She smiled at the Major and patted his hand. “Duty calls.”
She put her dirty cup and saucer in the appropriate rack and contemplated what the news meant. Obviously Brock wasn’t looking for a transfer. She wondered if she should tell Dani or wait until later. She decided later was probably a better idea. As she walked into the physio room, Shane gave her a high five and walked out. She hadn’t exactly planned on starting here, but she took it to mean Brock preferred working on the weights. Then, of course, he was a big, strapping man, and likely used to having a big, fit body. This was going to be an important part of recovery. She could use that. Wanting … no, needing to get that power back, that sense of completeness, that sense of self was what this was all about. Sure, they were going to work on the injuries, and they would heal and strengthen every ounce of him they could. Mobility was high on that list as well. But all of it would come together much faster if he could ease back and be happy with who he was. He had expectations. They had expectations. But rarely did they ever go together. It was so important to be able to communicate and find that middle ground.
