She could barely listen to his words. Blood rushed in her ears. “I can’t believe anyone would be as shallow as that.”
Bile rose in her throat. In that moment, she couldn’t think of another person she hated more than Orchid. “You are an amazing man. Any woman would be blind not to see that.”
“There’s the solution, Mom. Maybe she needs a blindfold.”
CHAPTER 21
CATCH HELL BLUES
Caleb
Phoenix stirred, then groaned. Not an auspicious start to the day.
“Hey, bro. Pain meds?” Caleb offered, even though he knew the answer.
Phoenix shook his head, eyes not ready to open.
“What do you need? Just tell me,” he said, anguished by the depression that had come over Phoenix the past few days.
“Kill me,” Phoenix said.
Caleb’s voice came out husky even though he was doing his damnedest to follow their mother’s admonition not to cry. “Christ, don’t say that. You’re the strongest guy I know.”
Phoenix forced his eyes open and grabbed his brother’s arm, interrupting his babbling. “I’m kidding.” His vacant eyes and grimness suggested otherwise.
Phoenix pushed up to a sitting position and yanked the arm of his chair to pull it closer. Transfers were getting smoother, but Caleb could tell from the pause between motions that the pain was intense.
“Can I do anything?” Caleb asked.
“Naw, I’ve got this,” Phoenix said, wheeling to the bathroom. Caleb strode two steps ahead of him to fling the door open.
While Phoenix washed up, a hospital worker brought a covered breakfast tray and set it on his table.
Phoenix returned and groaned at the sight. “You don’t need to kill me. That stuff will.”
“Want me to run to Two Boots?”
“Naw, just eat half. Make it look like I’m doing my part.”
Caleb lifted the tray cover and placed it on the brown melamine side table. “You gotta eat.” He tried to upend his scowl in encouragement. It felt as if his face might crack from the effort. “You know Mom’s gonna check.” He lowered the tray table to chair height and stuck the spoon into the gray oatmeal.
Phoenix scooped a bite and made a face.
Caleb fought the urge to smooth the cowlick sticking out in the back of his brother’s hair. “Hey, didn’t Orchid come home this weekend?”
His brother swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Is she coming by soon?”
Phoenix shook his head, and bit open a hard-boiled egg. The green-tinged yolk rolled desolately to the curved edge of the plastic plate. “She’s not coming by.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Phoenix pushed his tray away. “This is too much for her. She’s not in my life anymore. I really can’t talk about it.” His voice cracked.
Caleb exploded into a standing position, feet wide apart, as if prepared to fight. “What?” he shouted. “Too much for her? That selfish bitch.” He slammed a fist onto the table, making the tray jump and silverware rattle.
Phoenix doubled over, holding his side as if in pain. “It’s not her fault, it’s mine, but can we not talk about this?”
Caleb had held out hope that Orchid could pull Phoenix out of his funk. He pictured the punked-out beauty and felt bitterness rise into his mouth at the thought of her callousness. Caleb took a step towards his brother, intending to comfort him.
Phoenix rocked forward. “Fuckin’ leave me alone,” he pleaded.
Caleb left the room. The door shut to the crashing sound of a tray and dishes hitting the floor.
CHAPTER 22
CALL IT A DAY
Caleb
“Sascha?”
“Caleb?” Sascha asked, her voice full of sleep.
“You up?”
“It’s two in the morning. Whadya think?”
“Sorry.”
Sascha clicked a switch, probably a light. “It’s all right. What’s the matter?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Normal people take a pill, not call their ex.”
“You’re funny even in the dead of night. I should let you go.”
“Nah. I’m up now. How’s your brother?”
Caleb sighed. “I don’t know. He’d been doing better, but then lately it’s gotten so damn bleak.” He cringed, thinking of Phoenix’s morning outburst.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She was quiet for a moment. “How ‘bout you? I know you’re not sleeping like you should.”
He’d called in the middle of the night. He may as well let out what’d been dogging him. “I’m fucked up over my big brother. Yeah, we’re twins but he’s got two minutes on me. That stupid fact’s the kind of thing that usually gets to me. Lately, I don’t have a slug of jealousy in me. I’m torn up over what happened to him. God, I’ll kill the guy who caused this, if I can find the bastard.”
“I should’ve stayed. I shouldn’t have left you guys.”
“Nah, there’s nothing you can do. It’s just, he looks like hell. I’ve never seen anyone look like that. It’s still him, but dammit, sometimes I can’t even—it’s just, hell.”
“Cal, are you cryin’?”
“Aww, fuck, Sasch, it’s so fucked up.” Great sniveling wetness came out of nowhere. He blew loudly into stiff bunched-up tissues. He was a big guy, but his watery eyes diminished him to kindergarten days, when the rules and rote confused and chafed him.
“I’m coming back out,” she pleaded.
“Nah, don’t, I’m coming back to work in a couple of weeks anyway. It’s just Mom says we’ve got to be strong. And I can see he’s trying to hold it together for us. And we’re all just sitting around, so fucked up, not saying what we’re thinking, trying to hold it together for him. And I don’t know. Docs keep saying he’s going to be okay, and it’s not so bad. But it looks real bad, Sasch, it looks real bad.”
“Course it does, but, your brother, he’s strong.”
“Yeah, I hope so.”
Another thought struck him. “You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah . . . I’m trying to date a little.”
“Yeah? I want to wish you well and I want to wring his neck, all at the same time.”
Sascha’s response, a sweet, tinkling sense of humor, contrasted with her tattooed body and penchant for latex wear. Maybe he should let her come this weekend.
“That’s the other thing,” he growled, jealousy kicking back in and then waning over the thought of his brother in his chair. “You remember Phoenix liked that woman from work? Some smart, hot thing?”
“Yeah, and?”
“You know she was away when all this happened. I wanted to call her but he says no. He’d talk to her when she was back. And now, she’s back since the weekend and I ask Phoenix if she’s comin’.”
“What’d he say?”
“That she’s not in his life.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It sounded like she can’t deal with his accident.”
She sucked a breath, sounding wounded herself. When they were little, Phoenix balanced Caleb’s wildness, by being the responsible son. Now, Caleb needed to be the reliable one . . . if he was up to it.
CHAPTER 23
LITTLE GHOST
Liv
Dex had prepared Liv for what to expect. “He’s in a wheelchair. I don’t know how much pain he’s in. He didn’t look—”
“What?”
“He didn’t look like he wanted to see us.”
Phoenix was an independent guy, one who walked into work every day like he’d just come from a shoot for some designer label. Of course he wouldn’t want his colleagues to see him less than perfect. Liv got that. Today, she was going to be selfish. She was visiting for her sake—not his.
/> Heading up the high-rise that housed his rehab facility, nerves tightened her roiling stomach. She stepped into his room and met his mother, a regal woman who carried herself with enough character to have both birthed the incredible entrepreneur who was her boss and deal with an accident Liv tried not to imagine.
“Mrs. Walker, nice to meet you in person.”
“Thanks for coming to visit. It’s thoughtful of you,” she said.
“How’s he been?”
She blinked and studied the floor. “So-so.”
The sound of running water ended. Veronica glared at the closed door, as if her hard stare could navigate through the space between the molecules to see into the bathroom. A squeaking rubber sound and a clink against metal seemed to ease her tension. She relaxed, then after a few minutes, excused herself.
“There’s a nurse’s call button if you need anything,” Veronica said, pointing out the controls on the bedside table. “I’m going to get coffee so you two can talk.”
Then, when he wheeled out, Liv startled for a moment before remembering to get up and go to him. It took a little adjusting to seeing him in the chair. She tried to keep her eyes on his face.
“Hi, Liv.” He took her outstretched hand to pull her towards him. “Thanks for coming.” Still Mr. Walker, because that emanated from within, he kissed her on the cheek. Just that one action made all well for her.
“You’re welcome. I wanted to come sooner but—”
“I know. I wouldn’t let you.” He indicated the upholstered seats beside the round table, and then pushed his chair to follow her. “Sit.”
She obeyed, his voice holding no less power than she recalled.
She rested onto one industrial orange chair, crossed her legs, glanced at him, and uncrossed them. “How are you?” she asked, because she couldn’t say she’d thought of him every day, that she was afraid he’d die, or that she’d taken to praying despite having renounced her faith during college.
He struggled for an answer, and she marveled at the simple truth of the one he finally produced. “Every day is a little better.”
“That’s good to hear.” She relaxed her frozen posture a little. She indicated the pile of white envelopes on the table in front of them. “I’ve brought your mail, but I’ve opened everything and there’s nothing we can’t take care of.”
“I figured everything’s in good hands.”
“I’ve kept up with all your email, and voicemails, too.”
“Just as I always suspected. You don’t even need me,” he said, not reaching for the papers. His teasing tone loosened the lock of her arms against her sides.
“Is this news?” she teased back.
“Ha, I’m so not needed, I should take up golf or something.” His voice faltered as he looked down.
Can you hug a boss? She touched his arm instead, as intimate a gesture as she figured he’d take. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head, eyes searching hers. He seemed to see someone else.
“Oh,” she said, remembering something she’d nearly forgotten. “Orchid Paige called.”
His eyes lifted to meet hers. The old Phoenix was back. “When was this?”
It was hard to recall, since time had blurred since Phoenix’s accident. “A few weeks ago, maybe.”
His head hung again.
“She said to tell you that she’d called. I’m sorry I forgot.” She was searching for the words that would bring back his hopeful expression.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, eyes focused on the ground.
“I could get in touch with her if you want.”
He shook his head. “We’re not talking.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not one to be able to handle me like this.”
“You don’t mean—” His expression stopped her. She’d understood enough from the anguish plain on his face. This woman had hurt her boss.
“I’m sorry,” Liv said.
Her emotions splintered across the spectrum. She wanted to comfort him, though anything she could do seemed inconsequential compared to a betrayal of that magnitude. Anger pulsed. That bitch. She took the most amazing guy Liv had ever met and flung him aside? When he’d just vaulted from darling of the agency world to having so much taken away?
Liv was a small, pale pacifist, but her rage was physical. What she wouldn’t do to hit Orchid square between the eyes.
CHAPTER 24
WANT AND ABLE
Phoenix
“I can transfer myself.”
“I know,” said Veronica hovering inches from Phoenix.
He stood from the bed and pivoted into the chair. “Nadine wants me to do as much for myself as I can.”
“Sure, honey,” she said, leaning to tuck a loose pocket into his shorts.
He gritted his teeth against the humiliation of having become a dependent adult-child. “You know I’ve built a hundred-million-dollar business, and have been on my own since college.”
“You’ve done a great job,” she said, licking a finger to slick a stray tuft of hair.
He wheeled towards the bathroom. Mom walked one step ahead, opening the door just as he arrived. He pictured Orchid helping him transfer, handling his chair. The gut-punch of her revulsion, obvious in his recurring nightmares, formed a lump in his throat. He’d made the right call.
“I’m going to shower. By myself,” he said.
“Of course, dear.”
Nadine said the more he accepted his new state, the faster he’d recover. But phantom sensations remained ruthless. Narcotics sepia-toned his thinking until the difference between life and death didn’t seem to matter.
A one-handed yank of his T-shirt over his head was the easy part. Shrugging out of his shorts required balancing on a single foot, shoving the fabric towards the floor and then sitting back down to be finally free. I should be figuring out communications strategies, not how to undress.
Naked, he hopped into the shower. The bumpy surface of the institutional plastic seat sneered disabled.
Here, there was no ignoring the blunt ends of his missing pieces, no ignoring the one-handed shower aided by a long-handled brush. Scars wound like pale red tentacles over misshapen flesh. The sutures were gone but the raised, ropy skin stretched taut in the shape of each menacing stitch. Living death. Every nurse, therapist, doctor and family member had colluded in the grandiose lie that he was going to be able to do what he wanted. What the hell are they talking about?
This week, he couldn’t unlock the foil fortress of a yogurt. Yesterday, his one-handed wheeling was felled by a door that swung out instead of in.
His mind hissed, staring at his malformed stumps. You’re the punchline to a distasteful joke. You’re an attraction in an old-fashioned freak show. Little girls will gape at your deformities. Adults will avert their gaze from your gruesome form, then emasculate you with degrading pity.
There was nothing left of him. Half a man . . . His ears filled with howling. The door rattled with increasing alarm. The howling keened. He realized he was the one making the horrible sound. His one whole arm swept the shampoo, brushes and soap to the ground. The violence of the sudden strike stole his balance and he tumbled, landing on one shoulder. Battling upright, he dragged himself to his wheelchair, heaving the metal junk towards the sink, rattling bottles against porcelain.
“Phoenix, open this door! Let me in!” shrieked the crazy woman who birthed him. Who cared? This whole place is crazy. He was the craziest of them all. Beside the faucet above his floor-bound body stood toiletries, sentinels waiting. Reaching from pained knees that felt as if both feet were still attached, he fisted the glass and hurled it against the dispassionate tile.
Its splintering amped the volume from the crazy, then all fell silent. His lungs huffed air he didn’t want.
; The jagged shapes of broken glass glinted in the light. He wrapped his only hand around the largest shard, curved like a scythe. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror, a half-finished horror. His expression crazed, eyes darting wild like a trapped animal, gaunt cheeks wet with streaked tears, body naked, hideous. In the countryside, they put wounded deer out of their misery with a shot to the head.
The edge of the glass soothed with cold detachment. Just a little more pressure and relief would wash over him. It beckoned, promising pastures beyond his prison, a place with no struggle. He could smell the flora, sense the sun and relax into the illusion of peace.
He held no more responsibilities. His agency ran without him. His family could resurrect lives that had paused mid-action for him. Now, with Orchid set free, he was truly unanchored, unneeded. Nothing made sense more than to end the pain. He pressed the razor-sharp point against the flesh of his useless arm. He raised it to slice. He craved relief.
The door flung open. A male nurse towered, two hands out, beseeching, surrendering. “Real slow, Mr. Walker, just put that down.”
His mom was planted behind the nurse, open-mouthed. The nurse bent over his half-body, uncurled the claw formed around his weapon, and removed it. He righted the wheelchair and placed his arms around Phoenix’s torso. “Let’s get you out of all this broken glass,” he said, helping him pull into the chair. And then Phoenix shattered, his life fractured into more pieces than the ruined tumbler.
He was broken.
His body.
His will.
Irreparably so.
The male nurse helped Phoenix dress. He was consigned to bed. Much later that day, his assigned psychotherapist arrived, tall and slender, in a midnight blue suit as if she’d come from an insurance commercial. She motioned to the chair by his side. He shrugged his bruised shoulder and turned away from her kindly smile. As if she needed his permission to sit.
“Hi. I was hoping we could talk.”
He closed his eyes. The physical pain battled with his emotional pain. He stayed silent.
Goodbye, Orchid Page 8
