Goodbye, Orchid

by Carol Van Den Hende

  Tara observed one then the other, not a whit of disgust at either of them. “This guy’s below the knee,” Tara added, gesturing towards Phoenix with a nod of approval.

  Aaron appraised Phoenix processing all of this. “Below the knee is like a scratch,” he said. “That’s what we call a paper cut. You’re lucky. Left leg, too. You’ll be able to drive a normal car. Wait’ll you don’t even need that cane.”

  Lucky? Not needing a cane?

  This guy had the experience to know what he was talking about, and he verified the tall tales Nadine had spun. Phoenix felt hope resist stubbornly then rise a little. He wasn’t alone. He was part of a community of tough guys who were fighting—not just to subsist, but to thrive.

  “There are below-the-knee amputees going back into active combat,” the soldier bragged.

  Phoenix nodded, absorbing a new sense of possibility.

  Caleb’s murmured conversation with the other veteran turned towards motorcycles.

  “I can’t wait to get back on my bike,” the ginger-headed guy said.

  “I’m going to rock climb. You want to come?” Aaron asked, pointing towards the artificial tower covered in multicolored hand and foot holds.

  “There’s a first time for everything. Sure.” Phoenix shrugged, assessing the wall’s height.

  “When you try it, you might find it almost easier if you’ve never done it before,” Tara assured him. “You won’t have to unlearn how you used to climb.”

  “It’s all about shifting your center of gravity, and now your center of gravity’s different,” Aaron explained.

  Tara led them towards the rock-climbing wall while Caleb hung back.

  Along the way across the massive hall, Phoenix observed men and women working on balance and strength. One guy with no legs was strapped into a bowl-like bucket, and he moved forward with two crutches.

  “Hip disarticulation,” Tara explained, noticing Phoenix’s glance. “The higher the loss, the harder it is. In his case, he’s lost ankles, like you, but also knees and hips.”

  “Oh,” Phoenix murmured.

  Aaron strode along next to Phoenix. “You see me? Double above the knee? It takes me at least ten times the exertion it takes you to do the same thing.”

  “Geez, sorry,” Phoenix offered.

  He shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I don’t even consider myself disabled. I can do whatever I want, so it’s not a big deal.”

  Phoenix was floored. This was a new concept. He’d simply assumed that without his leg and his hand, he was disabled, or at least differently abled. Depending on the day and on the struggle, he perceived himself as more disabled or less disabled. But not disabled? The possibility felt good.

  “There’s always someone worse off,” his new friend said, nodding towards a guy with no arms or legs, seated on a padded table, wearing one prosthetic hand. A duo of therapists tossed buoyant plastic balls towards him and he practiced batting each one back, shifting and balancing on legs only a few inches in length. “Quadruple amputee.”

  Phoenix glanced away, not wanting to stare. From what he’d seen, though, the young warrior looked focused, not bitter or frustrated. A fresh-faced woman, who also appeared to be in her early twenties, looked on with pride.

  “He doesn’t look too bad off,” Phoenix commented.

  “You’re right. He’s doing really well,” Tara confirmed, continuing towards the rock-climbing wall, which now loomed larger as they drew closer.

  “He’s got his own cheering squad,” Phoenix noted.

  “Huh, some guys have all the luck,” Aaron said, his face twisting. Phoenix wondered if the effort of traipsing across the enormous gym was physically too much for him.

  “His woman left him,” Tara said, explaining his new buddy’s sudden sourness.

  “Of course,” Phoenix said before he could stop his sarcastic tone.

  “She said it wasn’t working out anyway, even before I came back all blown up,” Aaron said. “Yeah, right. Nothing to do with the missing parts.”

  Tara threw him a glance. “It happens. People react all different ways.”

  “That quad’s girlfriend is a saint. She’s here every day,” the guy added, nodding back towards the spot where the batting exercise continued. “You married?” he asked, curious.

  Phoenix shook his head, keeping pace with the group. “I’m single. There was someone. But this is too much for her,” he shrugged his arm as evidence. Dark hair, charcoal-shadowed eyes, lips like velvet, a husky laugh, arms thrown around him with abandon. The memories swamped him.

  “Boom,” Aaron said, cheered despite Phoenix’s somberness. “There you go. Some girls just can’t deal. We’re like soulmates, you and I. After the climb, we should go grab a beer or grub or something.”

  Yup, soulmates with this dumped triple-amputee, who confirmed the truth Phoenix already knew. Some women just can’t deal. He was smart to nip it in the bud before Orchid broke his heart.

  “Sure, a beer sounds good.”

  CHAPTER 28

  I’M SHAKIN’

  Phoenix

  FRIDAY OCTOBER 12

  D-Day. Done-Day. Final day of inpatient rehab.

  “Jailbreak!” Phoenix joked, standing among staff members bidding him farewell.

  “Are we diggin’ a tunnel, crawling through ducts or shooting our way out?” Caleb asked, heaving two bags onto the wheelchair.

  “Nah, nothing as hard as all that. Insurance has run out of money, so makes it easy to give me the boot.”

  He pulled each nurse and then his therapist into an embrace. “Nadine, you taught me everything, and I would’ve never guessed I’d be standing here, leaving for home if you’d asked me all those months ago.”

  “You deserve the best, really. Never saw someone work so hard to get out of here.”

  “Stubborn, isn’t he?” Caleb asked.

  “Compliments, compliments,” Phoenix interjected.

  Nadine held out a wrapped parcel. “We put together some pictures of your time here. We thought you might want to remember how far you’ve come.”

  Phoenix looked at the square package with skepticism. “Doesn’t sound like something I really want to remember.”

  Caleb grabbed the gift. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. He shoved the album into an empty space in one bag.

  Outside, Phoenix’s cane found steady ground in the shoveled pavement wet from a winter nor’easter. He’d convinced his mom to leave before the weather turned bitter. She’d be back soon enough for Thanksgiving.

  Caleb loaded Phoenix’s car with his bags and chair, and Phoenix drove with one hand.

  Directing the vehicle’s movement imparted a surprising feeling of possibility. The freedom to go anywhere at any time rolled ahead of them.

  “Well, look at you,” Caleb said.

  “You’re surprised I’m driving? Didn’t you tell me I could do anything I wanted?”

  “Usually you’re too stubborn to listen to me.”

  “I’ll work on that,” Phoenix said.

  “Good,” Caleb said, ignoring the sarcasm, “because I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  “Yeah?”

  Caleb looked at him, one hand rubbing the snake imprinted on his thick neck. “I need you to come down to the station with me and show me what happened.”

  “What?” The car swerved as his head jerked to glare at his twin, then he quickly adjusted the vehicle’s direction. “You want to go back to the station where my accident happened?”

  “It’s on the way to your place anyway.”

  “You want to go right now?”

  “Why not?” He shrugged. “It might be good for you.”

  “Good for me? You think reliving the worst thing that’s ever happened to me could be good for me?”

  “Sorry.” Caleb glared through t
he windshield as Phoenix’s internal debate took another turn.

  “Actually, there’s some crazy part of me that’s obsessed with going back. I see that guy, you know. In my dreams.”

  “You know a guy called Peter Levine?” Caleb asked.

  “No. Who’s he?”

  “Some PhD who’s studied how wild animals get over trauma.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, listen. Young cubs and stuff, if they get threatened by another animal, then later on when they’re safe, they go back and re-enact the trauma to get it out of their system. You never hear of animals in therapy, right?”

  “We’re a block from the subway stop. You want to do this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Crazy thing is, me too.”

  Phoenix pulled over to the curb. He swiveled out of the car and met his sibling on the sidewalk. As they walked, Phoenix caught their reflection in the clear expanse of a bakery window, two dark-haired men ghosted onto the image of people clustered around café tables. One burly with a scowl, one pitiful with a cane. He turned away from the truth in the glass and towards his brother.

  “How’s Sascha?”

  “She’s dating some divorced dude.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you approve.”

  “He could be a saint and I wouldn’t approve.”

  “So, go fight for her.”

  “I can’t give her what she wants.”

  Phoenix ducked his chin, in more agreement than Caleb could know. “If you love someone, set them free.”

  “Can’t set a free spirit like Sascha any freer.”

  Phoenix grew pensive. “I owe Sascha. She gave me perspective just when I needed it. Seeing life outside of rehab gave me something to work towards.”

  “Good thing it worked. Mom almost had a coronary when she heard where you were.”

  “Yeah, Mom watched me like a hawk for days after that.”

  They entered the west entrance for the 4, 5 and 6 trains. The stark black and white sign, 86 Street Station Downtown and Brooklyn, produced a shudder. Last time here, Phoenix had relished the summer sun and taken the steps two at a time.

  Tucking his cane under his left elbow, Phoenix picked his way down the stairs. “What if he’s here?” His eyes closed for a moment, despite needing to be able to see every step to navigate them.

  “I’ve been here a few times since the accident. I’ve never seen any homeless guy, but if he’s here, he better kiss your feet and thank you,” Caleb said.

  “Foot,” Phoenix corrected.

  “You still have two. You’re cyborg.”

  At the bottom landing, cold dankness emanated from the grayed tiles. Caleb pulled a Metro card from a worn black wallet. He swiped it twice, allowing Phoenix to push through the turnstile first.

  “He was there,” Phoenix said, limping over to a discolored spot marked in old-world tile. “He was sitting here, on a piece of cardboard, wearing crazy amounts of clothes for the weather.”

  The words came out of some foreign place he didn’t recognize as his vision narrowed to a wild grimace and face full of rage.

  “You okay?”

  “As good as a cub re-enacting trauma.”

  Phoenix caned deeper towards the darkened tunnel. He transfixed on the columns of dull green I-beams receding to the end of the platform.

  “I gave him a buck,” he said, “and found a note Orchid must’ve slipped into my pocket.”

  “Damn, look how fuckin’ narrow the platform is here,” Caleb noted, hands on hips, looking back and forth at the span that, if he lay down, would nearly force his feet to hang over the edge.

  Phoenix stepped over to the start of the yellow warning strip, almost at the mouth of the tunnel, his plastic foot unable to feel the nubby raised grommets. His cane wobbled on the uneven surface.

  “I was listening to music, a song from Orchid’s playlist.”

  “Orchid this, Orchid that. Fuck Orchid.”

  Phoenix didn’t pay heed to his brother’s muttering. “I didn’t see him until I heard the train coming. All I knew was this guy was going to jump. I wasn’t even thinking. I just grabbed him. To save him. But—”

  Caleb cupped his elbow. “It’s okay,” he said, voice low. Phoenix looked at his brother. Uncontrollable tremors came from within him. All moisture evaporated from his mouth, leaving it as dry as the dusty space between the tracks.

  “But then he pulled back. And I fell over the edge.”

  Phoenix stared at the rusty rails and dirt-brown floor littered with cellophane and crumpled napkins. “I fell right onto the tracks. I couldn’t catch myself. I could hear the train coming. I couldn’t move fast enough.”

  “Christ.”

  “I knew I needed help, but I couldn’t move.”

  “Of course.”

  “I heard screaming or something, so I figured someone knew I was there.”

  “They said the train guys were lightning fast. They called 911 and got tourniquets on you right away. Saved your life.”

  Caleb dropped his brother’s arm and turned to face the track. He appeared lost in thought, probably formed from hours spent with the police on eyewitness testimony and watching videos from the few functioning cameras at the entrance of the station.

  “You know fifty people died on the subway tracks this year?” Phoenix said. “I don’t know how many were accidents.”

  “What the hell is wrong with this world?”

  “Yeah,” Phoenix said, straightening. “You know what? I’m one of the lucky ones.”

  Caleb eyed him, lost for words.

  “We should go. You wanna go to my place? See what contraptions Mom’s had installed?” Phoenix said.

  When they arrived, Caleb removed his brother's belongings as Phoenix hobbled towards his neighbor, Mrs. V.

  “Oh, hi Phoenix.” Her smile ebbed as her gaze traveled down the length of Phoenix’s cane.

  “I’ve been away for a while. How’ve you been? How’s Elton?” he asked about her dog.

  She forced her attention up to Phoenix’s face. “Sorry to hear about . . . Do you need—”

  Well crap, even his normally loquacious neighbor couldn’t find words. Phoenix shook his head, trying to erase her consternation, and in the act, feeling the confidence he’d built erode.

  Caleb pushed the wheelchair past the two of them. “Eleventh floor, right?”

  The diversion refocused their attention. “It’s nice having you back,” she finally said.

  “Thank you.” Phoenix followed his brother’s broad shoulders.

  Once they reached his hallway, grief simmered in his chest. He limped down the hall whose shortcomings seemed oddly as glaring as his own. He noted spots where paint had flaked from the corners of the wall, a scuff along the baseboard and the dated print of Central Park in watercolor. He flashed to how he must look, with his uneven gait, clinical cane, fumbling for keys, an echo of his former self. The essence was there, like watercolors that captured the main features and colors, just not the details.

  Opening his door, he saw his mother’s handiwork. Throw rugs no longer graced the floors. The furniture seemed sparser, pushed apart with a chair-width between tables and sofas. He caned by the living area and towards his bedroom, passing the square table for casual meals that normally had four chairs around it, now with just three.

  Caleb followed him into his master bedroom, pushing the wheelchair and bags. A scent of paint hung in the air. Ah, that’s why. The bathroom and closet doors had been widened. Here was the start of the rest of his life. If he made it to old age, two-thirds of his years would be hampered by his injuries.

  Wish I had appreciated my agility when I had all four limbs.

  Caleb stood behind his brother, scowling again. Phoenix turned. “Hey, welcome to my wheel-in clos
et.”

  The stupid play on words was the first thing that popped into his mind. His brother stored the bulky bag in the back of the closet and parked the wheelchair there.

  “Want me to stay?”

  “Nah, go. Thanks for coming for this.”

  “Well, call if you need anything.”

  With Caleb gone, reacquainting himself with the apartment took just minutes. His thoughts turned to Orchid. Hope she’s happy.

  He typed her a text. “How are you—”

  His thumb paused, poised over the keys. He pictured her arriving at his door as she had several times in the past, then her open-mouthed shock, and his quiet explanations trying to calm her.

  “Listen, there was an accident, I didn’t want to tell you. But now I’m better and—”

  The words died in his mind. His injuries had rendered Mrs. V mute. What could he say to comfort the fear in Orchid’s eyes when he was the one causing it? Better for her to remember me as I was.

  Reminding himself of all the reasons it couldn’t work with this particular woman, he deleted the text.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE WORLD

  Phoenix

  MONDAY NOVEMBER 12

  Inaugural day at work. Phoenix rode the elevator, glad for a few minutes of not seeing anyone he knew before he faced the office. Leaning on his cane, Phoenix exited the lift to counterAgency’s floor. The refreshingly light space elevated his thoughts. The design spurred ideas. What if hospital rooms sported the same individuality and airy, who-cares architecture? That was a relief; the train hadn’t stolen his creativity.

  “Look who’s here!” the receptionist called as he entered the agency. Co-workers turned from a table laden with food and broke into applause. The sign above the breakfast platters proclaimed Welcome Back! Colleagues trailed closer to greet him with hugs and hellos. A producer reached out, then froze as he fixated on Phoenix’s occupied grip. Phoenix shifted the cane under his left elbow and clasped the guy’s hand. “Great to see you,” Phoenix said with affection. It struck him that he’d need to help people feel comfortable with the changes in him.

  “So much for flying under the radar,” he quipped to the growing crowd, transferring the cane back to its supporting position. “Come to think of it, so much for flying at all.” The hubbub echoed through the industrial space of painted ductwork and whitewashed brick walls, bringing more staff into the open foyer.