by T. Hammond
There it was. The bottom line. I’d originally selected David because he’d presented himself as safe, steady, and predictable. All lies. Bastian was passionate, engaging, and impulsive—hands down, the more loyal of the two. It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride, but Bas could offer me a fuller life, at his side; an equal. Each day with him would be an adventure.
“Bastian, bring David in, would you?” I called out, ending the rooster stand-off outside my door.
“Oh, Babe. I’m sorry we woke you,” Bas apologized, as he came through the bedroom door. “How are you doing? Are you feeling up to sharing mind-sight?”
“Red felt so tired, let him rest for now,” I declined.
“Hello, David. I’m happy to hear you made it back safely.” I hoped my smile was welcoming, maybe a bit detached to emphasize the shift in our relationship. I was distracted from his reply when Red interrupted.
“I’m fine, Teresa,” Red stressed, resting his head gently on my blanket-covered feet. When I asked him to stay close, I hadn’t meant indefinitely. How long had he been there? “Lights on. I came and woke Bas when I heard the vehicles coming, then stayed to watch over you. I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Could I love this dog any more than I did? Doubt it. “You’re a good boy, Red. Thank you.”
Bas angled around Red, to partially seat himself at the edge of the bed, near the IV stand. “I see I’ve already finished dinner,” I joked, pointing at the IV bag, hanging empty.
Bas’ eyes crinkled at the corners, sharing my amusement. “I’ll see if we can find a bag of coffee to hang next. You’re probably a few quarts low.”
“A man after my own heart,” I smiled.
His fingertips brushed my cheek, intimate, matching the promise in his gaze, heated even though Red’s vision. “Your heart is the ultimate prize, Babe. Unfortunately, practicality beckons. You sucked down a lot of fluid, and I’m sure you need a bathroom break. Let me help you up, and we’ll see how steady you are. The benzo should be diluted, but you may still be a bit weak in the knees now that the adrenaline has worn off.”
“You’re right. David, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I smiled in his direction, taking in his tall, lean good looks. He wore jeans and a thick, cable-knit sweater, which emphasized the planes of his chest. I could see his hair was a tad longer than he usually wore it, brushing the top of his ears with a faint wave. A month ago, I would have found that curl in his hair, adorable. Now, I could look at David and simply feel he needed a haircut. There was a lot to be said for the healing properties of Bastian’s full attention.
Drawing back the covers, I swung my legs to the edge of the bed, reaching for Bas’ outstretched hand. My legs crumbled beneath me. “How about I help this trip, and you can try again later? You haven’t had a decent meal yet, Babe.” He swung me up in his arms with casual strength, careful not to hit the IV stand. “Push the pole ahead of us, Babe,” he instructed, walking slowly toward the bathroom. “Red stay here, buddy. I’ll bring her right back.”
“Lights out, until I’m finished. Okay Red?” I asked.
In answer, he withdrew, leaving me in the dark.
Even bonelessly cradled in his arms, I could feel the aches and pains throughout my body, throbbing with the beat of my heart. “My body really hurts, Bastian. I can barely move,” I admitted, embarrassed because I knew I’d need more intimate assistance.
He kissed my cheek, replying matter of factly, “It’s a good thing for you that I’ve got experience removing women’s clothing. All those years of practice will now be put to good use,” he teased. “If you weren’t blind, I could’ve flashed my panty-dropping smile to make the job even easier, but we’ll just have to remove them manually, the old-fashioned way.” His sigh was dramatic, and full of good humor. “With my teeth.”
“Oh, you most certainly will not,” I laughed. Half appalled-half intrigued by the idea of Bastian stripping me without the benefit of his hands. Trust this crazy man to make me feel less self-conscious. My bladder was empty, finally, and I took charge of more intimate ablutions, but needed Bas to help me pull the pants back up over my hips. I didn’t have the strength, or the range of motion necessary; each tug at the waistband was painful as well as futile. My ribs were so sore, it hurt to breathe, let alone walk. The latter issue moot, because I was lifted into Bas’ arms once again.
As we entered the room, Red immediately connected mind-sight. The first thing I noticed was David’s mouth, drawn tight in a disapproving line. “Seriously, Bas, you couldn’t leave her long enough to let her pee by herself?”
“Don’t be an ass, David. You don’t get to make snide comments,” I snapped, lifting my shirt to expose my bruised belly and taped ribcage.
“Oh, hell, Teresa. What did they do to you? I hadn’t realized you were injured. I mean, I saw the facial injury and thought maybe a fall, but you look like you were beaten.” David’s tone was filled with horror.
Rather than reply with a full recounting, Bas told him, “Next time you’re in the Cave, ask to see the video footage. The bastards had a camera on her the whole time she was there, and we recorded it. To recap, she has some messed up ribs, and a colorful assortment of bruises. The good news is, the one who inflicted the worst of it got a bullet between the eyes.”
Bas paused beside the mattress, and asked, “Do you want to be propped up for visitors, or are you ready for a little more rest?” Bas’ wording was politely phrased, but the inflection suggested the intelligent choice was option B.
“I need to sleep. Maybe some visitors in the morning.”
His smile was reward enough, indicating I’d made the correct decision, in his humble opinion anyway. Carefully, Bas eased me onto the bed, swinging my legs around, as if intuitively knowing I didn’t have the power to do it on my own.
“David, I’m still exhausted. Can you extend my warm wishes to your family? I will meet them tomorrow. Hopefully, a good night’s sleep and a hot bath in the morning will help me gain some mobility.” I offered a weak smile. “We’ll find time to talk later, I promise.”
David took a tentative step toward the bed, unsure of himself in light of my obvious shift of allegiance to Bastian. I remembered Bas suggesting to me David would interpret our lack of sexual intimacy as uncertainty with our relationship. What better way to prove to David we shared intimacy than to allow Bas to assist me with something as personal as bathroom activities? Could I have managed myself? Yes, eventually, and painfully. I also could have asked Bas to leave me alone until I was ready to go back to the bed. But as Bas carried me to the bathroom, I realized I would have wanted him to ask me for help if our positions had been reversed. Geez, I’d spent two days peeing with an open bathroom door and a perfect stranger standing outside; it felt nearly comfortable in front of Bas.
“Goodnight, Teresa. Sleep well.” He wanted to say more, it was clear on his face, but the trip to the toilet had surprisingly drained what little energy I had. Questions would have to wait, I needed time to gain my strength back.
Chapter Eighteen
Bastian moved to trail David out the door, but I called out, “Bas, you’re coming back, right?”
He smiled, and glanced toward Red, still resting his large head on the bed so he could watch each of us. “Red, I think Doc is having a glass of wine with Henry. Would you bring the doctor upstairs so he can check Teresa’s IV?”
“Be right back, Beautiful.” Forgetting to turn off the mind-sight, I was treated to a mad dash down the stairs and a sudden, sharp pivot toward the living room. Henry and Doc Pettifer were indeed enjoying their Merlot, a guess, as it was Henry’s favorite red wine.
Red came to an abrupt halt before the doctor, who was casually lounging back against the sofa cushions. In typical German shepherd sign language, my dog placed an inquiring paw on Jim Pettifer’s knee. Jim’s eyes widened, startled to be singled out by the dog. “This one’s a bit slow, Teresa. He’s asking Henry what I want.” Teasing humor suffused Red’s tone. I coul
d see Jim and Henry talking, then Jim leaned forward and placed his wine glass on the coffee table. Red lifted his paw, backing up and turning to take a few steps toward the stairs. When he swung his head around to check Jim’s progress, the doctor had come to his feet and followed.
Meanwhile, back in my own body—yes, such is the craziness of my life—Bas settled his weight carefully onto the edge of the bed. “I’ll go down stairs to play host for a bit. Janey and the hospice nurse settled Marcia in her room, and Wes is already asleep in the blanket fort the guys set up. David and I need to finish our talk.”
“You really should have told him I was taken,” I chided gently. “I understand the array of reasons you didn’t, foremost being you were probably out of your mind with worry. But you remembered to make arrangements to pick David up at the airport, so you could have called him before his plane left Boston, to give him a heads-up on what to expect when he landed.”
He sighed heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I made the right choice not to tell him Friday. There was nothing he could do, and he was in the midst of final doctor appointments with Marcia and Wes. I should have made time to call him this morning. There are excuses I could make, but the fact is I purposefully excluded him.”
I playfully tapped him somewhere on his well-muscled chest with my index finger. “Bad puppy.”
“I’m a good boy,” Red protested, entering the room with his usual exuberance.
“Not you, Red. Bas was a bad boy.” I turned back toward Bastian, his beautiful beloved face filling my mind-sight. “Still is a bad boy. But that’s part of your charm,” my voice dropped, low and teasing.
“I’ll leave you with the doc and your ‘good boy’ for now,” he laughed. “After my rounds, and talk with David, I’ll be back to come to bed. No more sleeping alone, Babe. Barring travel for work, I want to wake up to your face, on the pillow beside mine, every morning.”
“It’s a date,” I vowed.
Bas rose and ambled toward the door, stopping for a few seconds to scratch Red’s ears. While I couldn’t see the action through Red, the mental moans of doggy pleasure were a dead giveaway. “Hey Doc. Take good care of my woman. I’ll want to talk to you later about a caffeine drip for her IV bag,” he joked, passing the older man with a pat on the back and a smile.
Jim returned the greeting, shifting his attention to the bed after Bas walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. “Was I correct in assuming Red was sent to get me?”
“Yes. Please don’t be offended. Red enjoys interacting with people, so we send him on various tasks during the day. Figuring out how to accomplish his assigned mission is a puzzle he enjoys.”
“I’m not offended at all. I was quite impressed with his eloquence,” the doctor praised with a crooked grin. He must have noticed the empty IV bag, because he approached the metal stand, detaching the expended bag, to connect the second one he’d readied earlier, which hung from an opposing hook.
I turned my attention to Red, explaining, “Eloquence is a word expressing how well you explain what you want to others. It’s a nice compliment about your skills as a communicator.”
“So he thinks I talk purdy?” Red joked.
“Good gracious, Red. Who says ‘talk purdy’?” It was almost as bad as the baby talk he mimicked a few months ago.
“Joker. I like the way he talks. It’s fun and interesting.”
“Geez, all these nick names will drive me batty. Which one is Joker?” I asked, racking my brain to figure out which of the Mustangs had strange, or intriguing, accents.
“Steve. He’s one of the software trainees from Oklahoma. Ralph says he’s fallen off one too many broncos and his brains are scrambled. That’s why he talks slow and funny.”
“Consider the source, Red,” I challenged. “Ralph is the kid who joined the Navy, only to find out later he gets seasick. He’s the last person who should be mocking anyone.”
My world turned sideways, as Red canted his head in consideration. “I see your point.”
I caught movement in Red’s peripheral vision. The poor doctor’s head was swinging back and forth between Red and me, his expression a cross between puzzlement and joyous wonder.
“Gil tells us we argue like an old married couple. You get used to us chatting back and forth after a while,” I smiled.
“It’s absolutely extraordinary. Can you hear other animals, too?” It was nice to see Jim caught up in the excitement as he considered the implications of our link.
“Not so far, but I appear to be a receiver, so theoretically, if an animal sends their thoughts, I should be able to pick them up. There’s no way to determine if Red is different from other dogs, but he appears to be smarter than average with high-level reasoning skills. There may not be any other animal I’d come across in the course of my life, who would not only have the capability, but who’d think to send their thoughts to me.”
“So, you’re saying Red has to consciously think things at you?”
“Yes, thank goodness. Can you imagine having your head filled with aimless animal chatter all day? Red makes a decision when to speak and shares sight on command. The mind-speak link is the easiest, and has the farthest range. We use the visual communication less often, as he can only mind-sight for fifty minutes before he starts to get, what we presume is, a stress headache.”
“Teresa, it’s been awhile since I took Tank outside. We need to do our perimeter check. Lights off?”
“Sure, Red. Maybe Jim can get the door for you?” I suggested.
“Nope. Not needed anymore. Jazz installed door buttons for me. See?” Red showed me the new brassy button, placed discreetly low on the wall. “There’s a button on the outside too. Jazz also added hydraulics to the door, so it automatically closes after a few seconds.” Red softly pressed his nose to the raised button, and the door slowly yawned open.
My world went dark, once again, and so did my mood. Since Jim was also a psychologist, maybe he could help me put this in perspective.
“Jim, does it seem ungrateful to have negative, conflicting reactions to the mind-sight? It’s been over a year since the accident that blinded me, and I adapted and learned to function in the dark. Now I’m gifted with an ability to share vision through my dog, and…” I searched for the right words to explain the conflicting emotions which filled me. With an audible sigh, I reminded myself to be happy with what I have.
“And what, Teresa?” Jim prompted.
“I’m whining,” I confessed. “I really shouldn’t let this bother me.” I paused, considering dropping the subject, but… “Occasionally, when the vision link closes, I feel so depressed. Almost as if I’m losing my sight all over again. It makes no sense. It took four months, but I hopped off the pity party train and accepted my blindness. Realizing the need to move forward, I adapted to a new way of life, and learned to live in the dark. I was happy. Now, instead of being thankful for the rare opportunities to see again, I’m resentful each time my world goes black.”
“Right or wrong, we can’t help how we feel about things, Teresa. Your mind-sight, is unprecedented. On the surface, I can see how an insensitive person might say, suck it up—be happy with the times you can see. Your blindness not only resulted from a traumatic experience, it changed how you interact with your friends and surroundings. Each time the link severs, you repeat that moment of life-altering loss all over again. The first time you realized you were permanently blind, was no doubt difficult to experience, but now you’re reminded constantly of the loss. I couldn’t even imagine the contradictory feelings you must experience. Hope and joy each time you are blessed with mind-sight, contrasting with despair and pain when blackness reminds you of your accident.”
“Yes. It’s as if my whole body takes a deep, shuttering breath and says ‘here we go again.’ Shouldn’t I be more focused on the positive, Jim? Ingratitude seems so twisted.”
“Well sure. If you were Heidi, and this was a chalet in the Swiss Alps,” he chuckled. “I don’t me
an to belittle your feelings, Teresa, please don’t take it that way. But, the only people who have no negativity are fictional characters in children’s books. Give yourself permission to have a bad thought, think an unkind word, or mentally stab someone with a sharp ice pick. You’re human, it’s okay to behave like one.
