Goodbye, Orchid
Page 5
She nodded. “Must suck something awful. Worse than anything.”
He was silent for a moment. “Worse than . . . losing your high-school sweetheart to your brother?” he finally said.
She raised her eyebrows, then upped the ante. “Worse than . . . my first period?”
He looked at her and she started giggling. “Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe this little flesh wound is survivable.” He waved the end of his arm around for effect.
“Maybe you’re going to be all right after all.”
“Yup. Maybe.”
The door swung open. Caleb strode in.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing like your sardonic ex to cheer me up.”
Caleb planted his lips on top of Sascha’s head as he passed her.
“Take it outside, lovebirds,” Phoenix said irritably.
Sascha registered hurt in her eyes. Weren’t we just connecting? Aren’t I on your side?
You’re not going to make me better with a simple laugh, babe, his look retorted.
Caleb sank into the chair at his bedside.
“I know the cops grilled you, but I’ve got some questions.”
Phoenix closed his eyes. He was so tired. Not just physical fatigue or pain from the wounds. He was so damned tired of talking about himself.
“I still don’t get what happened,” Caleb said.
“What don’t you get? It was just a stupid, senseless accident.” Phoenix said.
“It wasn’t senseless. You saved someone’s life,” Sascha interjected.
“Who says that asshole didn’t plan it all along?” Caleb asked.
Phoenix sighed and opened his eyes. “He was probably out of his mind. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You guys didn’t argue, right?”
“Nope, I gave the bum money.”
“A buck, right?”
“Yeah, a buck.” Phoenix looked thoughtfully at his brother, a new thought penetrating his foggy mind. “You don’t think he got mad because I gave him too little, do you?”
“Mad enough to try to kill himself?” Sascha coughed a little laugh. It did sound preposterous.
“Who knows what sends people over the edge,” Caleb said.
“So to speak,” Phoenix added dryly. No response to his gallows humor.
“What’d he do when you gave him the money?” Caleb continued.
“I wasn’t looking at him. I was reading a note from Orchid.” Could it have been as simple as money? What if I gave the guy a five? A hundred? Hell, I’d give the bastard all my millions to get my limbs back.
“Did he look suicidal to you?” Caleb continued.
Phoenix wasn’t listening. His mind raced with what he could’ve done differently. What altered route could’ve changed this nightmare.
Sascha gripped Caleb’s arm. “Stop already. Don’t you see this isn’t a good time?”
“Sorry,” Caleb muttered, not making it clear whether he was apologizing to his sibling or his ex-girlfriend.
“Come on, babe. Let’s go. Let the man rest.”
Phoenix heard the door shut and the rhythmic clicking sound of two pairs of feet walking away down the corridor.
CHAPTER 12
LITTLE ACORNS
Phoenix
W hat asshole thinks I’m well enough to move to rehab?
A knock at the door announced the arrival of a trim woman, wearing a tracksuit and a cheery attitude.
“Hello, Mr. Walker.” The fit young woman with the ponytail of a cheerleader took in all of him, not averting her eyes but looking straight at him, with warmth and competence. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Nadine, your lead therapist.”
“You want to know how I feel about that?” Phoenix asked dryly.
“Funny one. Physical therapist, not a shrink.”
“Well, good luck with that. Not much left to work with.”
“May seem that way now.” She nodded affably, as she checked him out like a side of beef at a Brazilian barbeque. “You’ve got the physique of a twenty-year-old athlete. Best abs I’ve seen in a while. So, how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a train,” he answered, aiming to point out the uselessness of her question. However, there was no dampening her enthusiasm for the body that was in her charge.
“I appreciate that it’s hard to see right now, but I promise, it’s going to get better. First, let’s talk about your goals.”
“Goals? How about getting me out of this nightmare and back to my regular life?”
Her tone softened. “It may seem difficult right now, but that’s exactly what we’re going to work towards.
“Okay, tell me about your regular life. What do you do?” She removed a pen from behind her ear and opened up a tattered notebook.
“I run an ad agency, work out, entertain clients, travel.” In the past, anyway.
“Running an agency is, like, a desk job, right?”
“Yeah.” He could see where she was going with this: that even double amputees can sit at desks. He wanted to resist. She was so damned upbeat.
“And entertaining clients means eating at restaurants, am I right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I don’t see any problem there. What about workouts? What do you do?”
“Weights. Running, swimming, biking. I’m a triathlete—” He stopped, remembering the last time he’d competed in a triathlon. Orchid had come to cheer him on. Caleb, too. Afterwards, something sharp on the beach had sliced open the bare arch of her foot. That’s when he learned that she couldn’t stomach the sight of her own blood. Which meant that now, he would be the one to repulse her.
“It’s a long road. You’ll learn modifications. No reason you can’t continue those things. Plenty of muscles left.”
She was experienced at this. Overcoming every potential objection. He wasn’t buying it. “On holiday, I ski, climb, do water sports.” He wanted her to cringe, to see the desperation he felt mirrored on her face.
She maintained equanimity. “Sounds like fun. You’ll have to adapt how you do things. Prostheses have come a long way. We should be able to set you up for the things you want to try. What questions do you have?”
Questions? How am I going to manage? When will I leave this hospital? Will I be independent? He couldn’t even get out of bed on his own or make it to the john. How am I going to go to work, run a meeting? Will I revert to being Mom’s little boy? It all seemed so overwhelming.
“Here are a few questions. Can I live on my own? Do I have to sit to pee? What about getting laid?”
She wasn’t shocked. “You are going to drive, live on your own, don a prosthesis if you want to stand to pee, and have all the sex you want. We are going to work together towards all those goals—except for the last one. There, you’re on your own!”
In spite of himself, he smiled as she walked out of the room.
CHAPTER 13
CONSOLER OF THE LONELY
Phoenix
“Again? Don’t you have a business to run?” Phoenix erupted at the sight of Caleb walking towards his table.
The rehab center’s cafeteria smelled like a mix of sugar-glazed donuts and cleaning supplies.
“I’m happy to see you too,” his brother said dryly, easing into the plastic chair adjacent to Phoenix.
“Seriously, isn’t Saturday a big day for you?”
“Yup. That’s why I’ve got staff to run my parlors.”
“Right. You have Sascha, and she’s been here, too, every other day? What happens when you’re both here?”
“I’ve got other guys to run my shops, too.”
“Who are probably pilfering your cash while you’re here.”
Caleb leaned forward, his face reddening. “Why the fuck are
we talking about my shops? Who cares about money? What’s more important than being here? I’ve got news for you: I’m going to keep coming every freaking day until you walk out of here.”
Caleb took a breath and leaned back in his chair. “Man, I’m sorry for yelling,” he said.
“I was out of line. Don’t think I’m not grateful. For you being here and all.” Not being in charge made Phoenix feel vulnerable and real.
“What? What do you need?”
Phoenix shook his head, his throat tightening. “Nothing.” It’s just, it sucks to need help. He grabbed the bottled Evian off the table and tucked the rounded glass under his left elbow. He twisted with his right hand. The cap didn’t budge. Instead, the whole slippery surface rotated under his less-than-optimal grip.
“Let me help.” Caleb took the bottle and opened it. Needing help made Phoenix feel worse.
“I can’t believe it. I’m the fucked-up one. Not you, Mr. Perfect.” Caleb continued, staring at the blank painted walls. “I want to find the guy who did this and fuck him up so bad.”
Phoenix couldn’t help himself. He dwelled on the image of Caleb’s burly strength and anger pummeling the crazed guy. “You do that. ‘Cause I couldn’t do anything about him.”
“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. Have you talked to the therapist about that?” His leg twitched like a nervous jackrabbit.
“Humph, if I do that, I may as well ask for a straitjacket.” He thought for a moment. “Except they wouldn’t know where to attach it.”
“Not funny,” Caleb answered, his face pinched. “You should talk with her.”
“Seriously, I don’t want them giving me happy pills on top of all the other drugs. It’s making me loopy as it is. I need to get off the pain meds.”
“If you need the meds, take them. Don’t try to be a superhero.”
“A superhero who’s able to fall down stairs with a single bound,” Phoenix said.
“Don’t fight the meds. You know, in Africa, they found that chimpanzees eat special leaves to rid themselves of parasites.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m just sayin’ even animals self-medicate to feel better. I read it in a journal.”
Phoenix gave him a patented superior brother look. “You’re really somethin’. You want something to eat?”
“No, I’m good. You want anything?” Caleb peered at the uneaten burger sitting in front of his twin.
“I’ll take some of those chimp leaves for parasites.” Phoenix looked around the nearly empty room. “Where’s Mom, anyway?”
“I ran into her in the waiting room. I said I’d take you back to your room. Let her rest.”
Phoenix slumped a little. He was exhausting their mom.
“I don’t mean it that way. You know she wants to be here.”
“That’s the part I hate,” Phoenix said. “I know you guys would do this for me. Be here. Do whatever. It’s like I’m an invalid.”
“You’re not an invalid,” Caleb said quietly. “You’re going to be fine. You just need a little recovery time. It’s been a hell of a ride.”
Phoenix sat lost in contemplation. “You know what’s the worst? No one needs me. Really. My office is running just fine without me. You guys would’ve gone on with your lives. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d died. People’d be sad for a bit, but then they’d pick up and move on.”
“Bruh, you are not thinking straight. Listen, everyone’s just giving you space to breathe. Your office wants you to get better. They’re not going to bog you down with whatever stupid questions they’ve got. We all need you, believe me.”
Phoenix shook his head, his convictions so clear.
Caleb straightened as if with a new thought. “Hey, didn’t you text me about Orchid? There’s someone who needs you. She looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars.”
Phoenix wanted to laugh, a crazy derisive laugh. Then he wanted to scream over the injustice of their now-impossible relationship.
“She’s on a business trip.”
“Well hell, has anyone told her? Does she know what’s happened?”
“No, not yet.”
“Give me Orchid’s number. I’ll text her.”
Phoenix shook his head. “There’s no point.”
“What do you mean? She’d want to know.”
“You don’t know her. Give me some time to get better first. If you tell her, she’d be on the next flight, even if she had to blackmail a nun for the last seat.”
Caleb chuckled. “That sounds like her. But didn’t you text that you guys are a thing?”
“It was one night. It was nothing. It’s over.”
Caleb scratched his chin. “But you texted that like two weeks ago. How could it be over already?”
“I’ve told you guys, I just don’t want anyone here. Not Dex, not our cousins, no one.”
“Why not?” Caleb persisted.
“I’m in no shape to see anyone. My mind’s all fuzzy and my moods are all over the place.”
“She might be understanding about that. Like Sascha is.”
Phoenix allowed a thought of Orchid. Beautiful, sensitive Orchid was as skittish as a kitten over trauma.
“Believe me, there’s no one to call.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” And yet, how sure was he, really?
CHAPTER 14
MY DOORBELL
Phoenix
“Christ, Mom, just tell him no,” Phoenix said.
“It might make you feel better,” Mom said, adjusting feather and foam pillows behind his back with experienced practice.
“Nothing is going to make me feel better,” he said.
“Besides, Dex and his wife Fiona are on their way,” she continued, choosing to ignore his wishes. Gliding over to the lone window, she raised the blinds. Like stupid sunshine could make an atom of difference in his ruined life.
“Aw, shit. Today?” he asked.
“Yes, any minute now,” she said, glancing at her watch as if it magically tracked Dex’s whereabouts.
He was pissed, at her, at Dex, at himself, at his whole awful situation. He grabbed the arm of his wheelchair, yanking it right up next to the bed. Mom hurried over, fear of him spilling onto the floor evident in the creased lines of her face. She put her arms around him to help with the transfer to the chair, making his gut clench over his predicament.
He pushed the rim of the chair forward, the action giving him the small satisfaction of translating energy into motion.
“I don’t want to see anyone,” he said, the refrain clearly not landing with his mother. He wheeled towards the bathroom. Mom, one step ahead of him, opened the door before he could wrestle with it.
Sledgehammer that mirror already.
He balanced his toothbrush onto the porcelain surface and squeezed a smear of toothpaste. His brain tried to find a crescent of hope to save him from impending self-pity. Running a razor over his cheeks, dragging a wet comb through his wavy mass of overlong hair, none of that changed the haggard expression that stared back at him.
Shock clenched his stomach as he recognized the dark circles haunting Caleb and his mom’s features mirrored on his own face. Damned train took more than my limbs. It gutted his insides until he couldn’t recognize what was left. Those wounded soldiers from their non-profit work had more tenacity than he could’ve previously appreciated.
Time was up. Through the flimsy door, a familiar booming voice greeted his mother, and a softer one followed. He looked down at the T-shirt and gym shorts emblazoned with a prestigious school logo that no longer seemed important. The outfit had been his uniform since descending into this surreal torture. The short sleeves and short pants exposed bandaged endings of limbs.
Here goes nothing. He p
ushed open the door. Two sets of eyes turned towards him. The few revolutions his chair took to reach them fractured into dozens of split-second judgments that passed on his friends’ faces. Dex’s mouth wavered at the corners, like a hairline fracture on a window about to shatter. He turned, teeth glinting white beneath a bushy beard. His narrowing eyes belied his effort to mask his emotions. Fiona, on the other hand, conveyed her shock in a silent film with no subtitles. Her mouth gaped open in a pink oval like a mewling kitten, then slammed shut in an apparent memory of manners, only to be replaced by fingers twitching uselessly at the hem of her tunic.
“Hey,” Dex said with affection, taking a step to meet him before he leaned down for a one-armed hug. “I cannot believe what happened.”
“Yeah, me either.”
Fiona recovered enough to bend and hug his seated form. “You okay?”
Nothing was okay. The frozen horror on his friends’ faces confirmed this. “I’m about as okay as I look.”
Dex brought over a chair for his wife. She sank into it, eyes rimming red.
“Everyone sends their greetings,” Dex said, propping a card onto Phoenix’s side table. He plopped onto one side of the hospital bed.
“And they brought pastries,” his mom said, indicating the white paper bag. “I’ll get some coffee for us.” She pushed out of the room, her cardigan floating behind her.
“They find the bum you saved?” Dex asked, bushy eyebrows knitting into one.
“Nope. Caleb’s spent hours with the cops. They looked at all the surveillance tapes but the cameras down in that part of the station were busted. Not that I see the point.”
“Maybe he wants to get the guy into therapy?” Dex chuckled at his own ludicrous scenario.
“I think if he ever found him, Caleb would want to finish the job.”
“I’d like to find him so we can get you guys on talk shows together. Turn you into the media hero that you deserve to be,” Dex said. His art-director-quirky bowtie bounced with mirth.
“I’m no hero, and I definitely don’t want media,” Phoenix said.
He pictured sitting on stage in his wheelchair next to the dirty bum. His stomach heaved. His eyes watered.