Together (19 page)

"And
you'll ski that way again, Brenden. I promise. You have a great background.
Let's talk about how we'll move around the mountain when it's crowded or when I
have to get you through narrow areas. It's called the human guide system. I'd
like you to take my arm and ski as if we were one person. What I mean is that
we'll turn together. All you'll have to do is remember that whichever one of us
is on the uphill side of the turn initiates it. The other person just sort of
lets his or her skis come around. But remember that the key is to never stem.
You must never let your heels go wide so that we can avoid crossing."

"I get
it," Brenden said. "That could be painful."

Kat went on.
"I'm going to take you to Cramner. It's a wide-open intermediate slope,
but it has some good pitch, and I think you'll love it."

What Brenden
liked right away was the feeling of skiing with Kat as one. They glided over
the snow as if they had been doing this all their lives, and he could tell that
the girl felt it too.

Arriving at
the top of Cramner she said, "You know what, Brenden? That was awesome. I
ski with a lot of people, but that was awesome. We can go anywhere."

Brenden was
full of confidence.

"So, how
do we go down the hill, Kat, when I'm skiing by myself?"

"I'm
going to ski behind you, Brenden, right in the tracks of your skis, and I'll
either be calling the turns for you, or, if we're lucky, letting you have some
freedom. Now, I want to caution you. When I tried to ski under a blindfold with
an instructor behind me, I found it very scary because I couldn't gain the kind
of confidence I needed to have in my instructor. Moving through space without
my eyes at high speed was frightening."

Brenden was
quiet for a moment, thinking about it.

"It is
frightening, Kat," he said, "but I've been getting used to it, sort
of, thanks to the help of a wonderful guide dog named Nelson. I'm kind
of"—and he was surprised at his use of the word—"beginning to adjust,
so I think I can do this."

Kat took in
this information, smiled to herself, and went on. "Well, we're standing at
the top of the run, Brenden, and we've got a clear space, so you can begin when
you're ready. Point your skis down the hill, and I'll call the first turn."

As Brenden
pushed off, he found himself extremely nervous and showed it by saying,
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," as his speed began to pick up. Why was he
afraid? He stopped, shaken.

"I'm
sorry, Kat," he said. "I'm sorry. I guess I spoke too soon about confidence.
I'm just a little—"

"Nervous?"
she said. "I understand. But, Brenden, I promise you can trust me. Nothing
will happen up here, except maybe you'll fall down, and that's not so
bad."

"Okay,"
Brenden said, taking a deep breath, "let's try again."

This time
when he pushed off and his speed increased, the memory of all his years flying
down mountains began to filter back.

"Your
first turn will be left, Brenden," Kat called. "Ready? And turn. Now
I'm going to get you into a rhythm. And turn.

And turn. And
turn. Traverse the mountain. Traverse the mountain. Stay in that direction.
Come up a little bit toward me. Good. There's a little bump coming. Feel it
with your knees. And turn. And turn."

Brenden let
out a whoop of joy as the two young people began to float down the mountain.

Five turns
later, Kat said, "Okay, Brenden, it's clear. You're on your own. Ski,
Brenden. Ski!"

The powerful
young man leaped forward, his speed doubling, maybe even tripling. His turns
were perfect as he felt the fall line of the mountain flowing under his feet.

Now it was
Kat's turn to be excited.

"That's
awesome, Brenden. Awesome. I'm right here. Right on the back of your skis. Go.
Go. Go."

And he did.
For the first time since his accident, Brenden was truly at one with his body,
even freer than when he held Nelson's harness. This was independence, he
thought, and yet the girl was back there, and they were sharing it, and she—she
was wonderful.

"We're
near the bottom now," Kat called. "I'm coming up on your left. Put
your hand out, and I'll catch it."

Brenden
shifted both poles into his right hand and with his left arm extended caught
Kat's arm, and they seamlessly glided toward the chair lift. Arriving in the
line, Brenden couldn't help himself. He took Kat in his arms and kissed her on
the cheek.

"Thank
you," he said, meaning it. "Thank you so much. I feel alive
again."

His throat
was tight. His eyes were full. As they got on the chair for the next ride up,
the girl let him pull himself together.

Eventually
she said quietly, "Brenden, I want you to know something. That's the
greatest moment I've had since I came to Winter Park. Watching you, being
involved with you today, makes me understand why I want to be a teacher, except
that I don't feel like I was teaching you. I feel like—"

"We were
sharing?" Brenden said.

"Yes,"
Kat said. And knowing that it was extremely unprofessional, she took his hand
and squeezed it.

They came
down at the end of the day, exhilarated, to find Mr. and Mrs. Barnes
luxuriating in front of a fire in the lodge with some kind of hot chocolate and
schnapps.

"The
drink of skiers," Barnes said. "European, but it works just as well
on those of us of African descent. Have one. How'd ya do?"

The big man
could hear Brenden smile. "Kat was awesome," he said.

The girl
interrupted. "Hey, you weren't too bad yourself, pal."

Now Brenden
turned his smile on her. "No," he said, "we were awesome."

After drinks it was time
to head home.

"Will
you be back again, Brenden?" Kathleen asked, her tone sounding hopeful.

"I'll be
back," he said, "even if I have to walk."

On the ride
home, Brenden was quiet, trying to understand what had just happened to him. He
had experienced freedom, and yet much like his work with Nelson, he had enjoyed
this affirmation because of a relationship with a mountain goddess named
Kathleen.

He was
surprised that he felt no guilt over his lack of feelings for Lindsey. But then
why should he? That was over. What he had just experienced made him know that
life held promise and limitless possibilities.

chapter nineteen

For the first
time in his life, the big dog was completely fulfilled: purposeful in his work,
joyous in his play, and bonded with a love for his new master that had no
bounds and grew with every passing day. Brenden and Nelson were on a new and
exciting adventure, and the dog greeted every experience with the same thought:
What
are we going to do now?

Brenden took
Counselor Barnes's advice and continued his internship at St. Joseph Hospital
with the goal of becoming a clinical psychiatrist. He wasn't sure what area
interested him. Maybe working with kids. Maybe with disabled people. Maybe as a
therapist. But he knew that his life made him empathetic to those with problems
they believed they could not overcome.

Charlie and
his mother, working separately, investigated areas all around the medical
center where Brenden could set up housekeeping. They decided that what was most
important to the new team was to be able not only to navigate the hospital
halls comfortably but also to live in a neighborhood setting that would allow
them access to everything they needed to be independent.

When Brenden
thought about how far he had come over the last few months, he was amazed. He
had gone from considering ending his life to now beginning to celebrate the
possibilities of a future so full of promise it was simply breathtaking. And
what were the important factors in bringing him to this place? First and
foremost, he knew with absolute certainty, he had gotten here because of
Nelson. The dog was flawless in his work, and his commitment and companionship
gave Brenden the confidence to believe that anything was possible.

Brenden constantly heard
doctors and
patients alike commenting on the beautiful animal, and he was delighted to
notice that most of the comments came from female interns that he was learning
to size up according to their voices. He found that blondes tended to speak in
higher pitches than brunettes. Height was easy to determine according to the
angle of the sound. He was delighted to find that he could hear a smile.

"That's
right," he told his mother. "A smile has a sound."

He was amazed
at how much he could determine about a girl's physical attributes. Girls with
long hair tended to shake their heads often to get their flowing tresses out of
their faces.

Voluptuous
women, he noted, tended to sit forward or be slightly round-shouldered because
as little girls they were probably embarrassed by their early development. He
could identify the leggy ladies because he could hear the sound of them frequently
crossing and uncrossing attractive gams. And he could pick out any girl who was
an athlete just by the way she walked.

As he worked
with Nelson, he came to understand that his senses were becoming wondrously
alive. The potpourri of smells that he now took in on a regular basis was
unlimited and actually helped him to discern how far he was from one of his
favorite eateries. As for food, his taste buds were sharpening every day. If he
didn't make it as a clinician, he probably would have a future as a successful
chef. Now that was an interesting picture.

Had his
hearing actually become more acute? He decided it had not, but he was turning
up his potential to listen to everything. A new consciousness was developing in
Brenden, and he liked it. He now did not live his life on just one sensory
level. Oh sure, he still missed his sight, and certainly the memories of things
like color and people's faces were beginning to dim. But his sensory capacity
was turning on and tuning up, allowing him to use all of his newfound abilities
to their utmost.

Life was
exciting again, made possible by his newfound awareness and by the confidence
of his best friend—a black Labrador retriever with remarkable intelligence,
total commitment, and a spirit for living that touched Brenden's heart every
time he put on the harness.

Brenden was
once again engaged in learning, and this pursuit of knowledge and a new
establishment of purpose placed him on the same track as the dog beside him
every step of the way.

"We're
both growing up," he told the animal, scratching him in his favorite spot
just behind the ears. "We're pretty lucky to have found each other,
boy."

The dog must
have agreed, because he raised his head and placed it on the man's knee.

There was a
bus stop outside Brenden's apartment, and it was easy for him to take the bus
north to Cherry Creek Mall for any major shopping he had to do, or to his
mother's house for a home-cooked meal, something every starving student needed
once in a while just to keep body and soul together.

Nelson loved
those journeys because he got to play with Gus, now his best canine friend.
Brenden and Mora could tell how much the two animals missed each other because
whenever they got together it was party time. They would often lie head-to-head,
their noses touching.

When he wasn't on
rotation
in
the hospital, Brenden could be found on the corner of Evans and University at a
great bar called Pete's University Cafe. This required Nelson to make a rather
difficult angle—crossing busy University to the far corner—but once the dog
understood that Pete's was where his master wanted to go, the rest was easy.
Nelson was in his glory, and Brenden was once again engaged in an independent
life.

When Brenden
looked for an apartment, the most important element, besides access to St.
Joseph Hospital, was to have an area where Nelson could enjoy just being a dog.
Good fortune found them an apartment right next to Observatory Park, one of
Denver's most beautifully pristine areas. From their home on the corner of
South Columbine and Warren, the pair walked east on Warren for two blocks,
which led them right into the park. Brenden had become adept at cleaning up
after his friend, and he felt a certain sense of satisfaction knowing that even
in this most basic function, the team was complying with city rules and the
environment. The dog loved it when his master brought a tennis ball along at
quiet times and broke the rules a little, relieving the dog of his leash and
harness and playing a spirited game of pitch-and-catch. Brenden figured that
everyone who had a dog did it.
And anyway
, he thought,
Nelson deserves a little exercise and freedom just as I do.