by RJ Heaton
“Hi Nikki, you look great.” He does a full body sweep over with his eyes before they come back up and meet mine. Those steel blue’s meeting my green eyes.
“Thank you.” I let myself enjoy his compliment … letting it seep in, to feed my starving self-esteem. I don’t linger too long though. I don’t want him thinking I’m desperate for attention. “We ready?” I urge.
“Oh yeah, umm … I think today we’re going to skip the harness.”
My heart jumps, and if it weren’t contained by my ribcage, it would be pounding on the concrete floor. “No harness?” I am in no way ready to be unharnessed. I panic. Drowning is the last way I want to go. I shake my head back and forth indicating I am not ready for that. If I weren’t in this damned chair, I’d be backing away.
Ethan leans over my chair—one hand propped on either side of me—using my arm rests he bends down further and gets rather close to my face. “Nikki, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise I will protect you.” His words send shivers down my spine. His breath is sweet and very luring. I freeze in place. His lips only inches from mine. My eyes dart between his … looking at one and then the other. Almost a whisper, “You deserve to be protected. I’ll keep you safe.” Very slowly I nod my head—letting go—and placing my trust with him.
I accidently squeal when he slides his arm under my knees and behind my back and lifts. He’s carrying me. Scared my weight might be too much for him, I reach my arm around his neck to hold on. With ease, he steps into the pool carrying me. “Isn’t it against policy to be lifting and carrying like that? After all, you don’t want to hurt yourself.”
“We—technically speaking, are supposed to use the harnesses and lifts to help keep us … both patient and staff safe, but I want you to trust me.”
The seconds floating in the air are way too intimate. Here I am clinging to his neck while being held tightly in his arms. He cocks his head and looks down at me. I feel so lost looking in his eyes. I want him to kiss me. I see the burning in his eyes as well—he wants it too. Closer … closer, his lips almost meeting mine.
Laughter in the pool brings back my rational thinking, “your girlfriend is very attractive.” I blurt out before I realize what I am saying.
Ethan’s eyebrows pull together, and he stares at me confused. “The other day I saw her waiting in the lobby area. You came out and gave her a kiss, so I just assumed…” I second guess myself for saying anything. That heated moment—gone. What’s left is a very distinguishable look of disgust.
“That’s complicated,” and it’s left at that.
Not a lot of conversation goes on between us after that, but he was right … I did feel safe. I knew that he had a hold of me every step of the way. His little whispers of reassurance; don’t worry I have you, you’re safe, I got you, weren’t even necessary. I knew that he would keep me safe.
Thirteen
“Would you date again if something happened to Joe?” Heather is silent for a moment contemplating how to answer.
“I haven’t thought about that much I guess, but maybe. I just hope that it would never come to that.”
I know exactly what she’s saying. Not once had I ever thought that I would be left single … not like this. I know Heather is treading lightly, so she doesn’t hurt my feelings. I’m not trying to put her in an awkward spot, and I definitely would never wish this upon her or Joe. Ultimately, I just need some sort of direction. I am terrified of being alone, but I just may be more terrified of dating.
“Why are you asking? Do you have a potential candidate?”
I can’t help but laugh. “No. I don’t know if I’m ready for that, yet.” I answer truthfully.
“Thank heavens. Nikki, I think right now you should focus on you for a while. Plus, it would probably be impossible to find the right guy who would actually be willing to push you around in a wheelchair. You should probably wait until you can do a bit more on your own.”
I can’t believe the words coming out of my sister’s mouth. They sting like a dull spoon being shoved into my back. “Really? Your advice is to not date because I’m in a damn wheelchair. How can you even say that?”
“Wait … Nikki that’s not what I mean. I just think when you are a little further along with your therapy, you’ll have more self-confidence.”
This entire conversation reeks. “No Heather, I get exactly what you mean. I’m a worthless invalid that shouldn’t expect a guy ever to want me. I’m broken … I get it.”
“Nikki!”
“Stop, I don’t need to hear any more.” The crappy part about Heather saying these things out loud, I know she’s right. I am an older woman with nothing to offer. My uplifted spirits this morning are now flattened out like road kill. The rest of the ride home is silent.
I’m pleased that Lexie and Ben stopped by to visit, but I’m still out of sorts from my earlier argument with Heather. I haven’t left my cave since we got back to their house. I am just a visitor—a prolonged visitor. I truly am grateful that they have opened up their space to me, but I feel like I am just a drain and maybe I have overstayed my welcome.
“Momma, can you believe it? Graduation is on Saturday. Aunt Heather has everyone’s tickets.” Her face is beaming with joy. Those glacial blue eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with pleasure, she’s so excited, and it glows from her. I couldn’t be prouder.
So far, Sean and I have done a pretty dang good job raising our kids. They are turning out to be very productive and responsible adults. “How did you grow up so fast?”
“Just because we are taller and doing more grown up things does not mean we grew up. “Ben teases.
“Hey, that’s you, not me. You’ll never grow up.” Lexie was the one who always acted more mature than her older brother. When they were younger, it was her chasing after him telling him what or what not to do. Surprisingly, he listened to her … most of the time. I love them so much, even my younger son Mathew. I know he’ll come around.
My spirits still aren’t quite as high as they were this morning, but I’m not in such a foul mood after my kids leave. Even Heather had come in and told me she was sorry for saying those things to me. She apologized profusely and said that she had no right to talk about things she had no clue about. In the end, she affirmed how strong I am, and we cried and hugged it out.
***
“Don’t forget we have to meet the lawyer after your therapy today.”
This morning I was feeling ambitious and made cranberry-orange muffins and hard boiled eggs for breakfast. I can’t lift my arm very well yet, but my grip is getting better, and I’m able to do a few things in the kitchen. I know Joe appreciates a few new items on the menu.
“Can you pass me another egg, please?” Heather grabs the bowl and hands them over to me. “Is there anything I should be expecting?”
“I’m sure he’ll ask you about the details that you do remember.”
A lot of that horrible night is still a mystery to me. Bits and pieces have been reemerging in nightly nightmares, and the rest I have just put together from what everyone has told me, “I’ll do my best. Revisiting that night is like putting hot pokers to my eyes—torturous.”
“You’ll do fine Nikki. I will be right next to you. You don’t have to go it alone.”
“Thank you.”
The monotonous routine of therapy and watching TV is getting to me. It’s pathetic that the excitement in my routine is the therapy. If I didn’t have it, I would probably sit in bed watching TV and reading books all day. I would never see the light of day. The beams of sunlight reflecting on my arms do feel pretty amazing. This spring has been unusually warm. I soak them in on the car ride to my daily therapy ritual.
I am highly disappointed when I see Laura the groucho waiting by the poolside. I’ve grown accustomed to having Mr. Eye Candy as my own personal helper. On a good note, I might focus more.
I’m standing—on both feet. Being almost weightless helps, but I am standing in the wa
ter. My leg is listening and not giving way. I feel elated. I can do this. I will walk again. The excitement hums through my veins.
“Now step toward me.” She has to be insane. I just got the mechanics to stand.
Laura gets frustrated with me when I’m unable to move closer to her. No matter how bad I want this, my leg won’t move. It simply stays put. I personally feel like this is a feat in itself. I couldn’t even stand a week and a half ago. This has to be progress. Thankfully she doesn’t keep pushing something that obviously is not going to happen today. I’m sure my image mirrors her disappointment. After all, isn’t it me that’s stuck in a damn wheelchair? I want to be out of that thing more than anyone else. For the rest of our therapy, she does more passive movements, and I try to stop imagining much stronger and more masculine hands against me.
“Pay attention!” she snaps getting aggravated by my lack of concentration. I don’t mean to be somewhere else, but thoughts of Ethan’s adorable dimple keeps consuming my mind. Her sniggers and loud sighs are not going unnoticed. I brush them off and keep wondering where Ethan might be. Did I scare him off after our last session? Maybe, I shouldn’t have mentioned the girl I had seen him with, but I need to know if he’s with someone. It’s only fair…
“… Nikki! I can’t help you if you’re not willing to help yourself.” She snaps for the umpteenth time.
I know that she’s right. My head has been so out of the game lately. I’m trying to heal and rebuild myself. The last week and a half I have been in complete darkness, hurt and numb. On one side of all of this, I feel lost by not having my high school sweetheart to help me cope through this, we always leaned on each other. On the other side, a boy that has sparked my barely visible pilot light. Could Ethan be the one to fuel that fire and make it glow again? Before I get another huff, I focus for the next fifteen minutes that we have left of therapy.
Fourteen
Fortunately, I have only had the experience of being in a Lawyer’s office once before. Ben had just got his drivers license and was trying to be a cautious driver. When a light turned yellow, he hesitated and slammed on his brakes as to not run a red light. An older woman rear ended him expecting him to go through the light. He had mild whiplash, so we had to fight the insurance companies to get some of his bills paid.
The officers had given the woman a ticket, but she tried to contest it, saying it was Ben’s fault. It wasn’t that big of a deal. The insurance companies settled the matter fairly quickly. How do they find anyone at guilt in this situation?
I stare at the words,Higgins, Bausch, and Schapp, on the side of a gray and white trimmed building that looks like it was once a house and has now been transformed into an office. I’m not sure if it’s Higgins, Bausch, or Schapp that we are meeting with today. It doesn’t matter to me. I feel guilt eating me alive even coming here. I don’t deserve any compensation for an accident one of my dear friends died in. Any monies should go to his mom and sister. It doesn’t feel right that he survives a deadly war … more than once, and then comes back and dies in a damn car accident. Tears sting my cheeks as I look at the building in front of us.
“Nikki.” My sister is at my door with the wheelchair. I see pity written all over her face. I haven’t talked to anyone about the details of that night, and I know she senses my hesitation.
The lobby is warm with neutral tones. Beige overstuffed couches line the wall with end tables at either end covered with magazines. A large dark brown reception desk half-mooned sits in the center. An attractive woman—probably in her thirties—stands to greet us. Her hair is pulled back in a tight chignon, and I can’t tell if her smile is sincere or so well practiced, it looks real. I don’t speak. I let Heather do all of the talking. I’m sure I will have my fill of explaining behind the doors.
“We have an appointment with Schapp.” So it will be Schapp. I wonder if I have to address him, Mr. Schapp?
“I will let him know you have arrived, and he should be with you momentarily. Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you care for anything to drink?” My mind flickers to Kahlua and cream, but I doubt that’s the kind of drink she’s offering.
Heather looks at me, and I shake my head no. “I think we are good,” she says to the receptionist. I watch as she rounds her desk and saunters with her tight black pencil skirt, high heels, and silky light pink shirt, to a door to her left. I don’t know why I am staring at the spectacle, but I watch as she knocks on the door and peeks inside to let the attorney know that we are waiting. Her heels click back to her desk, and she smiles at me when she realizes I am watching.
The door that she just had left, swings open and a gentleman with gray hair, tall and seemingly fit walks out. He smiles at Heather and me and instead of waiting for us to go to him he comes over and introduces himself. “Hello, I’m Jim Schapp.” He leans down to shake my hand.
My sister is the one to speak again. “Thank you, Mr.Schapp for meeting us. I’m Heather, we had spoken on the phone, and this is my sister, Nikki.”
“Why don’t we move this into my office, so we can discuss your situation in private?” Heather nods and proceeds to push me into his office. His office is lined with filing cabinets all along the back wall. The left wall is covered with what appears to be legal books from floor to ceiling. That has to be a boring read. His desk has a few scattered papers on top, and as Heather pushes me forward to his desk, he slides a chair to the side so I can be up closer to the desk. Heather slides in the chair next to me. “Sorry for my mess,” he says as he tries to straighten some of the stray papers into a pile.
I guess it’s a good sign that he’s busy.
“So, Nikki your sister contacted me and told me a little bit about your accident. First off, I would like to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, and I am glad that you are okay.” I just nod at him. He doesn’t even know me, so how can he tell me he’s glad that I’m okay? I think he realizes I’m not going to start this conversation, so he continues. “Well, yes. I am a personal injury attorney. I know that you have a delicate situation, but you shouldn’t have to get stuck with paying for all of the medical expenses. I think you have a pretty good case for a fair share of compensation as well.”
“I don’t think I should deserve any compensation.” Both Heather and Jim look at me like I grew horns.
“Might I ask why you feel that way?”
I try to push back the tears that threaten, but it’s useless, they drip heavy and full, streaming down weighty. Everyone sits quietly waiting for me to answer his question.
“He died, and I’m still here. I made him leave. He shouldn’t be gone.” The tears deluge down my cheeks and into my hands as I find my voice. I feel tissue being slid into my hand, and when I look up at the attorney, I see sympathy lining his face. Why can’t everyone understand how I feel?
“Nikki, I know this is hard, but you are here. Do you think your friend would want you to pick up and keep moving?” I nod yes. I know that Lance would not want me to let this accident consume me, but how can I not. He’s not here to tell me any differently. I will never hear him again. I will never get little pieces of advice, or encouragement … never. He’s gone. I sob violently, letting everything roll out all at once.
“Monetary talk aside, how about we just talk about the accident a little?”
I guess since I’m letting myself come apart anyway, I might as well get it all out. I go through all of the details, starting at finding my husband in the dark room with Sarah. I see Heather cringe on more than one occasion, but she doesn’t interrupt. This is the first time she has heard the whole story from my viewpoint. I recall the accident to the best of my ability. It’s weird how much more I remember now than when I had first woken up. My ears ring thinking about the screams coming from both Lance and me. It’s clear now … the images of metal bent in on us and Lance bleeding profusely before I finally black out.
I look up and see Jim and Heather looking at me with glazed eyes. A tear escapes down Heather’s ch
eek, and she wipes it away. Jim takes his dampened eyes off of me and back down to his notepad where he has been writing. “This is some story, Nikki.”
I feel exhausted relaying the nightmare that I have been holding inside. I hate to say it, but I do feel a bit lighter. At least two people know my story now. I don’t have to carry the burden all alone.
“This had to be hard for you to share, and if you don’t mind I would like to let you take a break and maybe we can get to my questions another day.”
“That would be ok. I think I need to rest a little bit. I’m feeling pretty worn out today.”
“Do you think Friday around the same time would work for you?” I look at Heather knowing it has to be her schedule that we follow. She‘s the one that has to be my chauffeur after all.
“Friday should work just fine.”
“Perfect. I shall see you ladies again on Friday.” He walks us all the way to the front door and before we leave he gives me a reassuring smile, “You are a strong woman, Nikki. Keep your head up.”
Fifteen
I am beyond exhausted, but I have something I need to do. “Heather can you take me to his grave?” I see the concern etched on her face, but she doesn’t argue. We pull out of the attorney’s office parking lot and head to the cemetery. I haven’t gone to see Lance’s grave, yet. I haven’t mustered the strength to do it, but after remembering his last moments today I need to pay my respects to him. I need to see where he has been laid to rest.
We are silent as we travel through Bozeman. The bright, crisp green grass blurs past my window. The spring grass always seems so much brighter in color than any other time of the year. I wish I could enjoy the beauty of it all, but for the last few days even the brightest colors seem dim and dull.
