by L. J. Hamlin
The next step is giving him the crutches, putting them under his shoulders, and making sure he grips them right. They feel unnatural in Arkady's hands. He doesn't like the feel of them. He's never needed help to get out of bed, let alone a walking aid full time, but he tries to push the feelings that produces to the back of his mind. He knows he needs to do this if he wants to get out of the hospital, and he desperately wants out of the depressing, sterile environment. He wants to be back in his apartment, surrounded by his own things. He wants to sleep in his own bed.
Arkady manages to stand on the crutches, holding his leg off the ground. He's in good shape, but he never realized how tiring it would be to stand on one leg like this. Even with the help of the crutches, having all of his weight on his right leg puts a lot of strain on it. Prisha encourages him the whole time, her voice gentle and kind. At times, Arkady still feels like he might snap at her, and he would hate himself for that. He knows he can be an asshole, but he prides himself on only being a dick to people who've earned it, and Prisha hasn't.
He almost falls over when he takes his first step, but Prisha is there to steady him, and he manages to walk across the room. Well, hop by the end of the hour. And then maybe Prisha can tell he's exhausted, every part of his body aching so much he's almost shaking, because she says they'll try for the hallway tomorrow, and helps him back into bed.
"Okay, now do you have anything you'd like to talk about?" Prisha asks, smoothing the blankets over Arkady. She does it carefully, like she's aware of how it would hurt if she touched his knee.
"I don't know. I don't know anything right now. But you're not a shrink. They say he's coming this afternoon." Arkady sighs. He feels so tired, to the bone weary, and he did so little. He usually doesn't feel like this, even after hours in the gym or hours of dance. It's like someone has drained all the energy out of him.
"I might not be a shrink, but I've worked with a lot of injured people. From their worst to their best, I've seen it all. Seems to me you're bottling a lot up right now," Prisha says, placing a gentle hand on his.
"Maybe I am bottling up my emotions, but right now, I have to in order to survive. I feel like if I let it out, I'll never stop, that I'll keep going till there is nothing left of me. I'm not used to such strong drugs. I don't know what I'm saying." Arkady shakes his head. Everything is so clouded. He feels like he's reaching through a mist for his thoughts all the time.
"I'll talk to them about adjusting your meds, but you shouldn't be afraid of feeling things. If you want to scream, scream. You deserve it after all you've been through. You had a terrible accident, and you can talk to me, okay? I'm going to be in your life for a while, so I'm going to see you in all kinds of moods," Prisha points out.
"I appreciate you trying to talk to me, and maybe I'll be ready to do that some other day. But right now, I'm tired. I just want to sleep and not be in pain for a little while." And to be free of all the thoughts that won't stop swirling in his head.
It's not like he wants them to stop forever. He's not suicidal. At least, he doesn't think he is. He's never felt like this before. There's a darkness, a hopelessness in his mind, that was never there before, but he doesn't have an urge to hurt himself. Yes, he wants the blackness to go away, but his wish is to return to his life before the accident, not to not exist at all, but he knows he can't go back. Time doesn't work that way.
"I'll let you sleep, but I'll be back tomorrow, and we'll get you up and down the hallway. I understand things are going slower than you'd like, but it's early days, Arkady. Things will improve. And yes, they'll be different from the way they were, but that doesn't mean they'll be bad," Prisha says gently.
"Being a dancer, being on stage, was my dream since I was a little boy. How can life be anything but bad when my dream has been taken from me?" Arkady asks her. His leg is throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It's like it's pulsating, and it's hard to focus on anything but the pain.
"Do you only have one dream? Or did you dream of other things? We can have new dreams all the time. Honestly, there aren't words for how much having your dream taken from you sucks, but it doesn't mean your life's over." Prisha has probably seen a lot of badly injured people, others who've had dreams taken from them, so maybe she understands, but she hasn't been in this kind of pain as far as he knows.
"I don't know if I have it in me to dedicate myself to a new dream. I put my everything into being a dancer. You don't understand how much a part of my life it was. There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think or do something connected to dancing. Even what I ate every day was for dance." Arkady shakes his head. Yes, maybe he's dreamed of other things, things he thought maybe he'd do later in life, but he thought he was going to have a long career.
"Don't be afraid to dream. I have to go now. I have work to do. But I'll be back tomorrow. I'm going to help you as much as I can. It's my job to help heal your body, but I like to make sure my patients are happy, too. Some doctors, and therapists, they fix the body, and they just walk away. I'm not like that," Prisha says firmly.
Arkady gets that she's trying to help him, but everything is too raw. He can't help liking her, but he doesn't think she's going to be able to do much beyond help him learn how to walk again. And, God, he never thought he'd be having to learn how to walk again.
"Thanks. I really am tired, though, and you have work. We can talk tomorrow." Arkady doesn't want to be rude. She's trying to help, but he wants to be alone.
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Arkady." Prisha smiles softly, pats his hand gently, then takes her bag. She leaves the crutches behind, in the corner of the room, and Arkady can't stop staring. They're like a symbol of his new life, and he just can't reconcile his life of the past few days with his life before the accident. Everything's changed.
He manages to sleep for a while, then he gets brought food and given a warfarin injection. They've been giving them to him daily so that he doesn't get a blood clot while he's unable to move around much. They give him more meds and leave him alone, and he's still buzzing when the counselor arrives.
"Hello, I'm Jack, the trauma counselor on staff. Doctor Ali asked me to come talk with you. Is that okay?" Jack asks, sitting in the chair beside Arkady's bed. It seems like so many people have sat in that chair in just a few days: family, friends, doctors, Thomas—who can't be classified under any of those anymore.
"So you're here to see if I'm crazy, right, or suicidal? I'll save you some time. I'm neither." Arkady doesn't want to talk about his feelings with a stranger or have his every word analyzed.
"I don't think you're crazy, Arkady. But I want to talk to you. You've gone through a traumatic event, and your life has changed greatly. I want to help you process that change." Jack's tone is a little too nice, like he's trying to act like he's Arkady's best friend, not like Prisha, who had been friendly and offered to talk. He feels like Jack's giving him no choice, like this is a test.
"I can't even remember what happened. How can I be traumatized by it?" Arkady asks. He still can't remember that day. He doesn't even get flashes like in the movies.
"You'd be surprised. Your subconscious has been affected. It may not just be the head injury that's preventing you from remembering. It may be the event itself. Now, tell me a little bit about yourself. Are you close to your parents?"
"I guess so." Arkady doesn't get what his relationship with his parents has to do with anything. He loves his mother and father. They're good too him, always have been. They supported him in becoming a dancer. They took him to all his classes when he was young, paid for them and all the clothing, like ballet shoes. But they aren't the warmest of people, or the most affectionate. There's a distance between them, always has been.
"That doesn't sound like you're certain. How are your parents taking your accident? Are they emotionally there for you? Will they help you settle back into life once you're out of the hospital?" Jack's watching him closely, and Arkady doesn't like it. His head feels muddled as it is from the meds.
He doesn't want to get tripped up by a therapist and end up being kept in the hospital because they think he's mad.
"My mother was upset that I'd been hurt, my father too. Of course they are. They're not overly emotional people, but I'd say they were there for me. They've been looking after my dog. They know he's important to me," Arkady replies.
"You like animals?" Jack has a notebook, and he writes as he talks, but Arkady can't see what is being written down from his angle lying against the pillows. He doesn't like Jack making notes on him like he's some kind of science project, and he feels paranoid about what Jack might be saying about him.
"Yes, I like animals. We always had pets growing up. I've had Lou, my dog, for three years." Arkady is trying to cooperate, but he feels on edge. He wants to sleep. He wants to run away. He doesn't know what he wants to do, but talking to Jack is low down on the list.
"Are you in a relationship?" Jack pushes his glasses up his nose and writes something else down.
"No."
"Any reason? Do you dislike commitment?" Jack doesn't seem like the best therapist to Arkady, or else they just don't mesh. Arkady doesn't feel like opening up to Jack, and Arkady thought people were meant to want to spill their guts to a therapist.
"No, I just work a lot. I haven't had the time." Arkady realizes he doesn't have that reason anymore. He doesn't even have a job anymore. He can't dance, so he can't work. So now he has no reason for sticking to one night stands, but then who's going to want to take him home now? He can't even walk. Sex isn't even something he's thought about. He likes sex, but sex will be different now. He's afraid of that, but he keeps those thoughts to himself.
"Work was your focus, then. They told me you were a dancer. What kind?" Jack asks.
"A ballerino." Arkady feels a throb of pain in his leg as he answers, like his leg is reminding him that he can't be that anymore.
"And how do you feel about the fact you'll have to change career?" Jack asks with contrived gentleness, like he doesn't want to say the words 'now you can't be a dancer' out loud to Arkady.
"You're the expert. You tell me how I should feel." Arkady is running out of patience. He doesn't want to talk about his feelings. He feels like hell, like his life is being ripped away from him, and he's holding onto it by his fingertips. He knows he's going to lose the fight.
"You seem a little hostile. Why do you think that is?" Jack asks.
"I don't know. I'm just tired. Can you let me sleep?" Arkady asks. He just wants to rest. Talking seems to make him tired, being around people, too. It drains him.
"Alright, just this once, but I'll be back when you're feeling stronger. I'll leave some leaflets for you to read." Jack puts them down next to the stuff Prisha had left him to read, and Arkady knows which one's he'll read first. He's much more interested in looking at how to exercise and get back walking than he's interested in some guy shrinking his head.
Arkady gives a half-hearted goodbye and watches Jack leave before he closes his eyes.
Chapter Four
"Are you excited?" Prisha asks.
"I'm glad to be going home and glad my apartment has an elevator," Arkady says, sitting on the edge of his bed and putting things in his bag. He's been in hospital and awake for almost two weeks, and he's seen Prisha every day of his stay. Arkady wants to think of her as a friend. She's so kind to him, but he made that mistake with Thomas, and he's not going to do that a second time.
His cell phone chimes, and Arkady apologies for looking at his phone in the middle of a conversation. The text is from his father, saying that something is wrong with the car, and he'll be late picking Arkady up. He curses and tells Prisha.
"You're my last patient for the day. I could take you home, if you like? I don't mind," Prisha offers.
"I don't want to take advantage." Arkady is touched by the offer. Maybe they have become friends in the time he's been here. Prisha's taught him to walk on crutches, to be able to do more than cross the room. Without her, he'd be stuck in bed still.
"You wouldn't be. I offered. Don't be afraid, Arkady. I'm not like every other woman on the staff: I haven't fallen in love with those big green eyes," Prisha teases.
Arkady blushes. Some of the female nurses do seem to have taken a liking to him. It's good for Arkady's ego. These women know that he's got a disabling injury, and they still find him attractive. But Arkady knows life will be different outside the hospital. The people around him won't be used to permanent injuries, and so much of the queer community focuses on looks and health. He worries that he'll be in the scrapheap at twenty-five.
"I have not won your heart? How sad. Well, let me text my father and tell him I have a ride. Thank you so much." Arkady smiles softly. He likes Prisha. She's been kind and patient with him. She even makes him laugh. She doesn't tiptoe around him like his parents. She talks about his injury and his past.
"Text Vsevolod, and I'll go clock out and come back to get you." Prisha smiles, and Arkady is glad this is not the last time he'll be seeing her. Prisha works at an outpatient clinic and will continue to be in charge of his physical therapy.
"I'll be ready when you come back," Arkady says, zipping up his bag. He finds it amazing how much junk he's compiled while being in hospital, and how bare the room feels now he's taken down his cards and given the still fresh flowers to others.
"I won't be long." Prisha heads out to go clock out for the day, and Arkady realizes she probably stayed later than she had to already today to help him get ready to leave. Much to his embarrassment, she'd even helped him put on a loose pair of jogging bottoms—his knee is still too swollen and bandaged for jeans.
Arkady had never thought something like getting dressed would be so difficult, or make him feel so tired. And that's with pain medication. At least he doesn't feel as lost in a haze now. The concussion has cleared, and they've lowered the level of his pain meds as his pain level eased just ever so slightly. He has moments when he can't quite think straight, but he feels more like his mind is his own most of the time.
Sometimes he wishes he were back in the fog, because his mind too full of thoughts. He finds himself lost in dreams of his past and nightmares of his future. He told Prisha about one dream, of being alone in his apartment, the phone never ringing, of never going out, living on takeout, his savings and the settlement that his dad's dealing with.
Prisha said that wouldn't be his future. She was sure of it, but Arkady is still afraid. His job had given him a purpose and friends. He'd seen his friends all the time through work, and he'd always been invited somewhere. Beyond his parents and Prisha, he hasn't had many visitors, none of the other dancers. Jason, his former boss, had come to see him, and Jason had cried as he'd apologized and offered to do anything to make it up to Arkady.
Arkady doesn't blame Jason, and he'd like to keep Jason in his life if he can. But he thinks maybe it's best that the other dancers didn't bother to visit. He doesn't want the reminder they would be of dance, to hear them talk about shows and training. He thinks it would break his heart, because he's not a part of that anymore.
Prisha returns and picks up his bag. "All your discharge papers are sorted. Several nurses are weeping over your departure. Are you ready to bust out of this place?"
"More than ready," Arkady says, even though he has mixed feeling about leaving the safety of the hospital. Once he sets foot outside the hospital, his new life starts, and he'll have to fully face being disabled.
He's not sure he can even say that word aloud. It's better than cripple, but it's just not how he identifies. He's used to being able-bodied. He's spent most of his life in almost perfect health and being very active. He only ever sits still to read a book, and even then, he can only read for an hour at a time before he has to move again. He has to be really tired to do nothing. Since he's been in the hospital, he hasn't picked up a book, ignoring the kindle his mother brought him from home.
He's changed. Such a short time has passed, but he no longer feels like himself. Maybe
claiming the disabled identity will help, but right now he can't.
Arkady gets up and starts slowly walking on the crutches, with Prisha at his side. Arkady feels bad she's carrying his bag. Arkady's mother would have a fit. He was raised to carry things for women, even though he knows it's sexist and a bit condescending, so he only ever offers and isn't pushy about it. They pass the nurse's station, and Arkady gets stopped for goodbye hugs. A few of the women kiss his cheeks before letting him leave with Prisha.
"You told me you were gay two days in. Why haven't you told them?" Prisha asks as they head through the hospital and to the parking lot in the back.
"I didn't want to disappoint them. It seemed to make them happy to flirt with me, and I liked seeing them smile. My parents, the doctors, everyone else was so grim in my room. It was nice to just be treated like a man. I have a feeling that once I'm an unemployed man with a limp, I'll get less attention. Does that make sense? I just wanted to pretend to be normal. You smiled at me, even though you didn't want me like that, so no harm telling you I am gay," Arkady explains, becoming a little out of breath from using the crutches and talking at the same time, so he pauses for a second, not moving like Prisha taught him. He takes a few breaths.
"You're a sweet man, and it does make sense. I bet you've broken a few hearts." Prisha chuckles as they start walking again.
"Not really. I don't date much; I've never cheated. I mainly just have one night stands with people who know it's only going to be that," Arkady explains.
"So you've never been in love?" Prisha asks as they reach the parking lot.
"No, I had crushes as a teenager that I thought were love at the time. But with hindsight, I know it wasn't. Have you been in love?" Arkady asks as they stop by an old green car, and Prisha opens the trunk to put Arkady's things in it and then lets them into the car. Arkady knows Prisha is single now. She'd said as much.
