Physical Therapy (21 page)

“Thank you.” My head was bandaged; part of it was shaved. My balance was for shit, but the doctor told me that would pass. I had, in the two weeks I"d been in the hospital, gotten dramatically better. I was still tired all the time, and the expectation was that I"d be homebound for close to a month before I could work again.

I probably wouldn"t have any long-term complications, but I wouldn"t be allowed to drive in California for a year because of a mandatory reporting law, and only then if I was free of seizures during that time. My doctors weren"t sure whether I"d have another, and I could develop epilepsy. I was bound to be unsteady on my feet and weak for a while.

My mom walked alongside my wheelchair. She was coming back with me to the SeaView motel, and we had plans to stay there for a while until we figured out where I could go. She wanted me to go home to River Falls while I recovered. For a lot of very good reasons, I refused.

In Shawn"s Camry on the way to the motel, she started again.

“I still think if you were to come home, just for a month or two while you get back on your feet—”

There was no way I was going home to my father"s house, and now, after seeing my mother for the past week, I hoped she wouldn"t go either. “There"s no reason I can"t just stay here. My follow-up appointments are all here. I have work. I could just do half days for a while at first, but—”

“How are you going to afford to stay in that motel while you"re only working part-time? What about the hospital costs?”

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“I have health insurance,” I said. It hadn"t been very good health insurance, and it cost a bundle, but I was so glad I"d been smart enough to get it. What, if anything, it covered I had no idea. I was embarrassed to tell her Izzie had passed the hat at Day-Use and come up with enough money for a month"s rent. To hear her tell it, food would be falling from the sky and people were standing in line to take me to my doctor appointments. I recognized the frenzy of activity around an injured hometown boy from growing up in River Falls. I didn"t feel like I deserved that kind of consideration, but they all made me feel very cared for.

“My rent is paid for the next month. Izzie told me not to worry about that at all.

We can stay there and pretend we"re on vacation. We could go to the beach.” I knew I"d caught her. A flicker of something that looked very much like yearning passed over her face when I said the word
beach
. “It"s cold out, but no matter the time of year it"s beautiful.”

She snorted. “Cold.”

“Have you talked to Dad?” I asked. We were both sitting in the backseat of Shawn"s car, and even so, she blushed guiltily.

“Hush,” she said.

“Mom,” I reminded her. “Shawn can"t hear us.”

“It"s just not—”

“I know. It"s not something you talk about. I got that.”

“No.” She looked at her hands. “I was going to say, „not something I want to talk about
right now
."”

I looked closely at her. Maybe St. Nacho"s was having its renowned magical effect on her too. It was true that in the week she"d been here, she"d blossomed. I"d never seen her so carefree. Not even when I was young, before my father"s occasional drinking and verbal abuse had escalated to nightly terror and the atmosphere in our home ground us both down to dirt. In St. Nacho"s, where she had no one watching everything she did and waiting to pounce on her and make her feel useless, my mother had become lovely and serene. Younger-looking than she had been, even before I went to prison. I was enjoying the calm between us when I realized that Shawn had passed by the motel.

“Shawn,” I said stupidly, forgetting that he couldn"t hear me. I motioned for him in the mirror, but he ignored me. I don"t know if he could tell I was trying to get his attention or not. More than once I"d suspected Shawn of ignoring something, not because he was unaware of it, but because he chose to. I was on the passenger side of the car and chose not to tap his shoulder in case it might startle him.

“What is it?” my mother asked me as I sat back in defeat.

“This isn"t the way to the motel.” I watched as we passed landmarks I knew to be farther on the outskirts of town. When we passed the high school, I had the feeling I"d been on that particular road before.

“Maybe he has an errand to run.”

118

Z. A. Maxfield

“I don"t know…”

“Is it something we should be worried about?” My mother frowned.

“No, I"m sure Shawn will explain,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I had a tremendous headache, and all I could think was that I hoped there wasn"t going to be some sort of party. When we turned on a street with a more rural look to it, everything clicked into place. Moments later, we pulled up in front of the house Ken had shown me.

“Why are we here?” my mother asked.

“I don"t know.” I felt completely incapable of the argument I knew was coming. I couldn"t stay here. Even if I were so inclined, my mother couldn"t be expected to live in a house with things that crawled and crept. She couldn"t be expected to do the kind of cleaning that Ken"s house required just to make it livable. When Shawn pulled to a stop, he climbed out. He let my mother out first, and together they came around to get me.

“Shawn,” I said, taking his hand and making certain I had his attention. “I don"t know what Ken told you, but—”

Shawn put his hand to my mouth to stop me talking and then motioned with his head to acknowledge Ken, who stood on the front steps, which looked to have been shored up since I was last there. At least he wasn"t falling through them. He came down the stairs one foot at a time on each, using his new canes. It was good seeing this obvious evidence that he was making progress. When he reached my mother and me, he stopped. Shawn was pulling the plastic bag with my things from the hospital out of the passenger seat.

“Ken,” I began. “I"m sure you mean well—”

“Come inside,” he said abruptly and turned. I looked at my mom, who shrugged.

She had a look on her face that I was beginning to realize was not the resignation I"d seen there so often before. She actually looked…intrigued. She held my arm, and we followed along behind Ken. Shawn stood by me on the other side. I think he was afraid I"d fall over. I was too, when it came down to it. Often, I simply felt overwhelmed. I hoped to heaven that there wasn"t a crowd on the other side of Ken"s front door waiting to yell “surprise.”

I looked at Shawn then, feeling that apprehension, and realized he understood. He nodded his head toward the inside and gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. I let out the breath I"d been holding and stepped inside.

Even if there wasn"t anyone yelling surprise, Ken"s house was certainly surprising.

It had been thoroughly and completely cleaned. The wooden floors had been sanded and refinished, and the walls were painted a creamy beige. The trim was as yet untouched, but the clutter was gone and the place smelled almost fresh and clean.

As we stepped farther in, I could see that the kitchen cabinets had been given a fresh coat of white enamel and that the appliances were new. As I followed Ken around his house, I was amazed by the changes he"d made. Each bedroom was immaculate and contained a bed, a club chair, and a small dresser. Although there was no furniture in Physical Therapy

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the rest of the house except a small table and two chairs in the kitchen, it was obvious he"d gone to a great deal of trouble to make it habitable.

I had to admit it was really nice. If anything, I didn"t understand why he"d brought us here. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

“Ken, you"ve made tremendous progress,” I said. It sounded lame, even to me.

“I had a lot of help. I think at one point or another everyone in town was here.”

“Congratulations.” I looked at my mother and then back at him. “Small towns can be like that.”

“So,” he said. He was shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly. He seemed to be waiting for something.

“I"m really amazed, Ken. You are a very lucky man. I"m so grateful to you for bringing my mother to St. Nacho"s from the airport.” I paused, but the silence continued uncomfortably. “I"m really tired, Ken. Do you think Shawn could take us to the SeaView now?”

Ken looked at me like he didn"t understand. “But I want you to stay here.”

“What?” I looked to where my mom was standing. “My mother will be staying with me, so it"s best if we"re at the SeaView. I"m sure you understand. She doesn"t want to go home until she"s sure I"m not going to fall down in front of a bus or something.”

“I want you and your mother to stay here,” Ken said, implacably. “Together.”

“I"m sorry, Ken. I think that would be a little uncomfortable. I"m really tired.

Please. Can I just go home now?”

Ken sighed, stepping toward me so he could touch my hand with his. He lowered his voice and spoke gently to me. “Jordan. I don"t plan on staying here. I"m going home to my parents" house. I just want you and your mother to be comfortable.” He began to walk to the front door, turning back before he walked through it. “Shawn and Cooper brought your things from the motel. Your mom"s cases are in the guest bedroom; yours are in the master. I put food in the fridge, and the phone works.” He pulled open the door and was out of it before either my mom or I could say anything.

“Jordan,” my mother said.

“I"m on it.” I went after him. I made it to the porch just as he was getting in his car.

“Ken!” I got his attention. He stood with the car door open in his hand.

“What?”

“Thank you so much for this. For everything.” I wanted to get it all out. “For bringing my mother here. You don"t know what a difference you"ve made. You can"t know how much—”

“That was mostly Izzie"s doing.” He looked away. “I just did the house faster than I thought I would in order to give you someplace to go when you got out of the hospital.”

“I hope to hell you know I wish everything were different. I wish we could figure out how to make things work—”

120

Z. A. Maxfield

Ken interrupted me. “My batting coach at school used to say that wishing was like pissing. Everyone did it, but the results just go down the drain. He told me when you really want to hit the ball, you"ve got to have the courage to step up to the plate and face some motherfucker who"s going to throw a hard ball at you—at a hundred miles per hour—and you have to
know
you"re going to hit it before it even leaves his hand. I can"t say I"m thrilled that you only
wish
we could figure out how to make it work between us.”

“Ken—”

He grinned at me. Oh, holy crap, what a smile.
What a man
. “But I can"t say I"m prepared to give up, either.” He tossed his canes in ahead of him, got into his car, and drove off. My heart did a kind of twist thing in my chest that made it feel as though it had wrenched free of the pipes that kept it connected and pumping my blood.

“He seems to be a rather interesting young man,” my mother said right behind me.

“You heard all that?”

“Yes I did.” She put a hand on my arm and pulled me gently back inside. “Which is the master bedroom? I want you to lie down.”

“Mother,” I said, but she paid little attention. I exchanged glances with Shawn, who smiled his own perfect smile and shrugged. He took my arm and led me back down the hallway.

“I"m going to make something for us to eat when you wake up,” my mother called from the kitchen. I didn"t answer. I sat down on the bed, and Shawn stood in the doorway looking at me with what I thought was uncertainty. He had his hand in his jacket pocket as though he was toying with something. I waited.

“When you were in River Falls, you
hit
Cooper,” he said, finally.

Somewhere along the line I"d learned that if I didn"t want to look someone in the eye that probably meant I should. I nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“When I saw your mother”—Shawn motioned to the side of his face—“I realized you probably got that from your home.”

It was hard to get used to his uninflected voice, but I didn"t find it displeasing. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and I saw he had a phone with him. Two, if you counted the one that he had clipped to his belt.

He expected me to talk about this with him. I didn"t think I had much of a choice when he came back into the room and handed me his spare phone. “Speed-dial pound sign one,” he said. “I like Ken. I don"t want to see him get hurt.” I figured out how to text.
You’re right, and nothing I say should matter.

After a minute or two, when his phone beeped, he read what I"d sent. “Say it anyway.” He looked up. “Why shouldn"t I tell Ken you hit my lover?”
You should
, I typed.
You definitely should.

“Why?” he asked, his fine brown eyes clearly baffled.

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I thought about it. I typed,
One, it can’t be a secret
, then pressed Send. I continued typing until I had sent two more messages.
Two, I have learned a hundred ways to manage
anger without violence
. And,
Three, I have no more lies to protect. I don’t want them.

I looked up and watched as he digested this. “Why should I believe you"ve changed?”

I shook my head and typed,
You shouldn’t. Nobody should. But I have.

Shawn was silent for a long time. It wasn"t hard to see why Cooper loved him so much. He was intelligent and finely made. He had a beautiful smile and, I suspected, an equally beautiful heart.

“Cooper"s heart was very dark when I met him.” He leaned against the wall. “He needed a good hard shove into the light, and I knew I was just the man to do it.” He grinned.

I looked down, trying not to laugh.
How did you know?

Shawn headed back toward the bedroom door. “He came like a train whenever I shoved him. He just had to accept that I had his best interest at heart. I love him.” I did laugh at this, out loud. I typed,
Good call, you’re both very lucky.