Forever: A Lobster Kind Of Love

by Pardo, Jody

  I amused myself as I thought: If Ryan shits in the woods, is he a bear? Maybe. Only if the neighbors see my white ass.

  This was ridiculous. I couldn’t call anyone, couldn’t use my own bathroom, and couldn’t order food because my bankcards and wallet were in my luggage in my bedroom. I ate my crackers sparingly and hydrated as much as possible and prayed I didn’t soil my pants.

  The television was my companion.

  Lydia

  Monday

  The alarm blared, and as much as I wanted to stay in the comfort of my bed, it was time to go to work and meet my new patient. I purposely put my phone on the dresser to charge overnight so I would have to get up and go get it to shut it off. I pulled a bright set of scrubs out of my dresser and headed to the bathroom to shower.

  I washed my hair twice and slathered the deep conditioner into it while I gave a quick shave to my legs. I couldn’t help but think about my stylist back home every time I gave my hair extra attention. Jami’s voice rang through my head: The first wash is just to get clean; the second wash is what really makes the difference. Wash twice, you will thank me later.

  Happy memories of hours at the salon playing with hair color brought a smile to my face as I tapped out my razor then rinsed the conditioner out of my hair.

  After getting out of the shower, I pulled my red scrub pants on with a matching red tank top and left my scrub top off for now until after I’d dried my hair.

  I grabbed the hair dryer and flipped my head over and blow-dried my hair. My hair was naturally wavy, so I ran my fingers through the waves instead of a brush so I wouldn’t be all frizzy and one big poof by the time I was done. Satisfied, I grabbed a hair tie for later, just in case, and pulled my American flag scrub top over my head.

  I poured myself some cold coffee from the fridge into my travel cup and dressed it light and sweet, just the way I liked it. Cell phone, coffee, car keys, patient file…I started doing my mental checklist, and I grabbed all I needed and stuffed it all in my nursing bag then headed out the door.

  As I descended the steps, Ethel popped her head out the mudroom passage.

  “Lydia?”

  “Good morning, Ethel. It’s just me.”

  “Have a good first day!”

  “Yup, first day and I don’t want to be late!” I shouted from the car as I loaded my stuff in the backseat.

  “I will make something nice for dinner to celebrate your first day!”

  She scurried back into the house before I could protest. I climbed into the driver’s seat, and headed to meet my new patient.

  Ryan

  I hoped the new nurse could cook. It was not exactly in their job description but it sure would be helpful. The Meals On Wheels food was good, but it had only been good the first day. Those trays were like little TV dinners, but they kept me going since I had returned home. I'm sure they would taste even better if they were warm.

  I had always been an early riser. Up with the sun, everyday on the boat I was first to drop traps and pull deck duty. Even as the captain, I still pulled my weight. I would never ask one of my guys to do something I wasn’t willing to do myself. Even the shit I hated to do like cut bait, I did. I was not scared to get my hands dirty. Funny, how the tables turned. Now, I just wanted to eat.

  My days in rehab were so regimented as the staff pushed me to get better. I supposed I was better. I was alive, but now what? I didn’t have anything to do. My life had been reduced to reality TV and Meals on Wheels deliveries. Hopefully, this nurse would have a game plan.

  I rolled over to the half bath and opened the door wide. I stretched far enough into the doorway to reach the pedestal sink so I could brush my teeth. I washed the rest of my body with the big tub of baby wipes. I scrubbed under my armpits, my face, my neck, and under my junk. I smelled like a damn baby, but it was better than funk.

  The simple things in life we took for granted became huge tasks when you were in a chair. I didn’t want to rip apart my house; I didn’t have the finances to do it anyway. So I needed a game plan and soon.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the open case by the door, sat by the deck doors, and waited for my nurse. I tried not to think about yesterday’s late night excursion that included crawling out to the deck and my ass hanging over the edge of the deck. We will just blame that on the neighbor’s dog. Meals on Wheels, baby wipes, Oreos, and bottled water. Way to go Ryan, you’re an adult now.

  Promptly at 8:00 am, I heard the crunch of the gravel in my driveway as the new nurse pulled in. At least she was on time.

  I headed over to the front door and opened it to meet my new nurse. Pushing myself to the threshold at the top of the ramp, I saw a slender woman carrying more packages than she probably weighed.

  She was a beautiful hot mess with her burgundy streaked red hair blowing all in her face as she’d tried to extricate her stuff out of her vehicle. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder, a Home Angels Alliance work bag over the other, and in her arms were three plastic shoe size storage bins filled with lord knew what.

  Under one arm was a travel cup that was dripping what I could only assume was iced coffee since she wasn’t squealing as her sleeve dampened with its leaking contents. I rolled halfway down the ramp to meet her.

  “You must be Ryan,” she said from behind the stack of totes.

  “Nah, I’m the concierge. It’s part of the put-the-cripples-to-work-program around here.”

  She stopped and stared at me for a moment. “Um, Hi…I’m Lydia.”

  She completely ignored my attempt at breaking the ice and I outstretched my arms.

  “Here let me grab some of that from you,” I said as I grabbed the items from her arms.

  “It’s okay; I got it.”

  “Don’t be silly. I have a perfectly good lap sitting around doing nothing. Might as well be put to some use.”

  She tried not to smile, “Thanks. I have more in the car.”

  There’s more? “I thought you were here for the day shift. I didn’t realize they ordered me a live-in nurse?” I questioned, not really joking.

  She giggled, and it was music to my ears.

  Okay, so she does have a sense of humor. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  “I just like to be prepared. I wasn’t sure what supplies you did or didn’t have, so I brought a little bit of everything.”

  “Does the hospital know they have competition?” I said with a raised brow and a smirk.

  “Eh, nothing they will miss.” And with that, she handed me her coffee mug and pushed me up the ramp to the door.

  I couldn’t believe how much stuff this woman had brought with her. She asked for “office space” and she proceeded to set up shop at the dining room table then stowed her load under the adjacent hutch.

  As I watched her organize and take account of her haul, I noticed the catheters. “Whoa, Nurse Ratchet what do you plan on doing with these?” I held one of the sterile wrapped packages of tubing up behind her.

  “Don’t you cath? It was in your records,” she said quizzically.

  “Umm no! My legs don’t work but my pee factory works just fine. You can take those right back out to your car.”

  “What about at night?” she persisted.

  “What about at night? I’m a big boy; I haven’t wet the bed since I was a toddler. I’m not starting now. What else does my chart say about me, besides being a potential bed-wetter?”

  She looked up at me with the biggest eyes I had ever seen. I’d spooked her. Okay, I guess I should dial it down a notch or three.

  “No, seriously, are you going to believe what you read or what I tell you? I assure you I don’t wet the bed. Maybe we should go over my chart together so you know what you are getting yourself into.”

  Her facial expression softened, but she still looked unsure.

  “Come on, pull up a chair. I’m not using any of those,” I said as I waved to the dining chairs.

  A smile crept across her lips as she took
a seat at the head of the table. I moved the useless-to-me chair out the way and parked myself to her right.

  “Okay, so they give us an intake packet on all new patients. Here is yours,” she pushed a small packet of approximately six pages of yellow colored duplicate forms to me.

  I looked them over as she regarded me closely. “Well, at least they got my name spelled right. The rest of this you can probably trash.” I scooted the packet back over to her.

  She let out a huff as I watched her formulate her next words. “Well, what is incorrect?” she asked.

  “Hmmm…pretty much everything after my address. They even have my phone number wrong. That is a cell phone that was lost at sea at the time of my accident.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she squeaked.

  I put my hands up in a time’s out “T” as she furiously flipped through the pages looking for truth. “Listen, why don’t you put that useless paper away and just ask me what you need to know.”

  She looked down at my hands covering hers and sighed. “Well, why don’t I start by updating these and we can go from there?”

  “Okay, if you want to go that route. What do you want to know?”

  She looked up at me cautiously and cleared her throat. “Phone number?”

  I provide my digits and we continue.

  “That’s not a Maine number.”

  “Is that a question or a statement?” I snapped back.

  “I was just wondering why you would have an out of state phone number, that’s all.”

  “I spent the last year in a rehab center in New York City. I lost my phone at sea and I had a local provider at the time. When I got a new cell phone, the new cell service gave me a local number. Besides, who cares what the area code it is anyway? Everyone has cell phones these days. It’s not like anyone is going to be paying long distance charges or anything.”

  “Fair enough. Allergies?”

  “Penicillin.”

  “What happens when you take penicillin?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “I get paralyzed.”

  She sat there with her mouth hung open as she stared at me. I chuckled at my own humor, but I had to hold my shit together if we were going to get through this. I was starting to see she took this whole patient history thing very seriously.

  “No, seriously, I’m allergic to Penicillin. I don’t get the whole itchy hive thing; my muscle fascia swells and last time, when I was around fifteen years old, I was hospitalized until they figured out what it was after a mild case of tonsillitis went awry.”

  “Okay, then. What medications are you currently taking?”

  “They had me on a lot of meds when I was inpatient, but I don’t take anything except a B12 shot and some vitamin supplements these days.”

  “Ryan, it says here you are on antidepressants, muscle relaxers, a sleeping aid and this one here is an anti-seizure medication." She slowly looked up to me as she points to the form.

  “I haven’t taken any of those for a while now. I told them I didn’t need them and they weaned me off all that crap before they released me back into the wild. I have some of those muscle relaxers just in case I get cramps, but I don’t take them. ” I paused for a moment, appreciating the humor that was just hitting me. “So what you're telling me is, according to that file, I’m a prescription junkie that wets the bed.”

  “Apparently, but I will update your file so they don’t start mailing you diaper coupons.”

  As we went through the rest of the patient history form, I corrected all the errors with her and she seemed more at ease. My stomach growled audibly. I glanced at the clock on the cable box and I realized two hours had already passed.

  “Do any of those packages you carted in my house happen to have anything edible in them?”

  “Just my sandwich. What do you want to eat? I can whip something up for you.” Her face gleamed bright at the idea of cooking.

  “I have no idea what is in the kitchen. I haven’t been home in a while. I suppose we need some groceries. Those Meals on Wheels people deliver.”

  “Let me go take a look and see what’s in the cabinets. Then we can make a list together and I will go grocery shopping. How’s that?”

  “Sounds good to me. So what kind of sandwich?” I winked at her.

  Smooth Ryan, real smooth. That was pretty fucking rude, but hell I’m hungry.

  “Nothing special. It’s just a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich with bananas.” She said as she holds up the neatly wrapped parcel of saran wrap.

  I extended my hand for a handshake as she stared at it for a moment and then wrapped her hand in mine. “Hello, my name is Ryan and I am a peanut butter addict. Thank you for coming today. I promise to be a good patient if you hand over half of that crack sandwich. I will pay you for it! How much? $5, $10…name your price.”

  Lydia just laughed at me as she carefully opened the plastic wrapped piece of heaven and handed me half of the sandwich. She lifted her half to her lips and took a bite. Her tongue darted out to catch a glob of jam that tried to escape down the side of her mouth; she caught it before it got to her chin. My cock stirred in my pants as I watched her.

  Her snark snapped me out of my jelly-licking induced trance. “So, are you going to eat that or do you just like holding stuff?” As I took a bite, I couldn’t help it, a moan of pure pleasure escaped as the flavors of smooth peanut butter, sweet bananas, and grainy strawberry jam danced across my palate.

  “Oh my God, this is food porn. Sorry for the soundtrack,” I mumbled in between chews. I was actually chewing very slowly, savoring each morsel and regretting swallowing.

  “It’s just a sandwich,” she told me in a lowered voice.

  “This is not just a sandwich, not to me. Whatever you used, you have to buy more.” We proceeded to make a long shopping list, she cleaned up after we finished up and I asked her to grab my wallet from the bedroom so she could do some shopping.

  “You heading out now?” I asked her.

  “Well, it’s still a bit early, so I can go do groceries and then come back and cook you dinner before I head out.” Yes! Praise Neptune! I’m getting dinner! Now she needs to leave so I can pee.

  Lydia grabbed her jacket and left my home as she headed to the supermarket. I went to the sofa to grab my empty water bottle and it was not there. It had been there earlier. Where was it? I backed up to try to peek under the sectional to see if the bottle had fallen and rolled under. It wasn’t there. I continued to look around and there was not one bottle, cup, dish, bowl, or receptacle of any kind to be found. The only thing around was Lydia’s travel cup.

  Fuck. Please forgive me.

  A little over an hour later, Lydia returned with another truckload of parcels. This woman was born to shop. I helped her human-cart the grocery bags into the house and watched her unload. I sat at the threshold of the kitchen and watched the yumminess get unpacked.

  “Oh my God, I am so thirsty! I didn’t have any cash for the soda machine and that supermarket didn’t have any of those single serve fridges by the checkout.”

  “No! You can’t use that!” I exclaimed grabbing her travel cup from her grasp.

  “Ryan, what’s got into you? Come on, hand it over,” she said impatiently.

  “There are plenty of glasses in the kitchen cabinets. I will buy you a new cup, I promise.” Tucking the cup under my arm away from her.

  “Ryan, you’re being silly. So either you tell me what this is all about, or hand over my cup.”

  I mill around my head tossing the idea of how do I tell her this. “What did you do with all the water bottles?”

  “I took them out to the recycling bin, why?”

  “You cleaned up too well, and I was left with only one alternative…so I don’t need those caths, but I do need a bottle.” I stretch out my words hoping she won’t make me say each gory detail.

  I watched as the realization hit her and I felt like shit. “Eww, Ryan!” she shrieked.

>   “I’m sorry! You cleaned up really, really well and my chair doesn’t fit in the bathroom.”

  Disgust changed to confusion on her face and she asked, “What do you mean your chair doesn’t fit?”

  “It doesn’t fit in any of the doorways, so basically I stay out here in the living room. I do rinse my bottles in the sink. I can reach that faucet, but I can’t make it all the way inside. Same for my bedroom, I can’t get in there.” I felt disgusted with myself as I hung my head in my hands. I hated admitting this, but she was going to find out eventually.

  “Okay,” she said with determination. “If this is going to work, you are going to have to be honest with me. No secrets. I’m a nurse and a professional. This is a judgment-free zone, okay?”

  What did I say to that? I didn’t want anyone fussing over me. I just wanted to be left alone. And a shower, I really wanted a shower.

  Lydia knelt before me and pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look at her. “Ryan, I know this is hard, but I am here to help. For me to help, you have to tell me what you need, what you can do and what you need help with. I am going to go unpack the groceries and make some dinner. Okay?” I nodded slightly, and she released my hands, stood, and went into the kitchen.

  I sat there for the next ten minutes just thinking. What did I want? I wanted to be fishing; that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to be in this damn chair, but I didn’t really have a choice now, did I? I needed to shower and change my clothes. I needed to be able to get into my bedroom. If I could just get in there, it would be great.

  I just had to trust her.

  I rolled over to the kitchen threshold and watched as Lydia put away jar after jar of peanuts, peanut butter, pasta boxes, jars of this and that while humming to herself what sounded like a pop tune I’d heard on the radio but I couldn’t think of the name.

  Then I saw them. “Are those Oreos I see?” My pulse quickened at the sight of the bright blue package.