To Be Back Home Again
by
Diana Walker
This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended. © Diana Walker, 2006.
TERRY
I’m so sick of stretchers and wheel chairs. The only way onto the plane leaving Cyprus was the stretcher up the stairs. The MSF crew kept the jostling to a minimum. The money for their paid vacation was well spent; along with knowing me as a person from popping in daily to share beach stories with me, they appreciated the holiday. I believe both those factors had something to do with the care they took to get me back on the plane when Diana and I left for Paris. That and I wasn't swearing at them this time. I might add that Dr. Amison’s wife is quite the attractive sheila, though from what Diana told me, she doesn’t follow instructions all that well. I spotted them on the beach a couple of times, and she was wearing the top to her swimsuit.
Sofitel Roissy had a shuttle and wheel chair waiting at Charles de Gaulle to take us to the hotel. Because of the wheel chair, I didn't have to be manhandled off the plane horizontally. I was off-loaded like cargo onto a platform lift, sitting with my leg outstretched. While it was a damned sight better than deplaning prone, it was still humiliating.
I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone aside from Diana, but by the time we got to Paris, I was rooted. Dino insured we made a spectacular entrance into the hotel by tilting my wheelchair onto the back wheels and rolling me to the front desk for check-in. The wheelie would have been fine, had it not been greeted with applause from our fellow guests.
Reags had done a good job of making the specific arrangements for our room. Dino was down the hall in a single room; ours had two beds. Diana didn't even try to move them together. She pulled two chairs from the sitting area and slept there. I spent most of the night worrying that she’d fall between them and land on her arse on the floor.
Our rooms were a short wheel from the front desk on the ground floor, and we – make that Dino – heard all the comings and goings in the lobby all night long. Diana claimed she didn't hear it; very probably, she didn't. She spends her nights dozing lightly listening for my needs and seems oblivious to anything else.
Somewhat remarkably, Diana isn’t visibly hovering. If I'm about to put a foot wrong, she's right there to lend her support, literally. She snugs in under my arm with a light comment to make me laugh, helps me hobble to wherever I'm going, and disappears. In a very short time, she's developed a sense of when I need to move about.
I'm supposed to be taking the pain meds every four hours; if I haven't taken them at the six-hour mark, she reminds me, not that I need it by then. At four hours, the leg makes its presence known. At five, I'm cranky. At six, I’m in a cold sweat, gritting my teeth.
“Diana, why don't you and Dino go into Paris and have a nice dinner tonight?” Recall that we were at the Sofie at the airport; that’s a long way from the Arc de Triomphe.
Her look told me that she thought the accumulation of pain meds had rotted the logical portion of my brain. She wouldn't even deign to answer my question. I soldiered on.
“You told me the last time you were in Paris you stayed in a bunker and ate MREs. Now that’s pathetic.”
“Are you trying to get me to tell you about that part of my life again? You know I can't talk about it.” At least she was smiling at me – an indulgent, patronizing smile.
“Not me, but who knows when we'll get back to Paris? It just seems that you should get out and make the most of it whilst you’re here.”
“Terry, we‘re on the outskirts of one of the most romantic cities on earth, and you want me to spend at least two hours in a cab to eat dinner with a man for whom I have no romantic feelings whatsoever? A man I consider my brother? Do you really want me to remember Paris in that unromantic light?” To punctuate her question, she snapped on the radio. “I was hoping for some Edith Piaf. Instead, we get the news in French.” I listened for a tic.
“Actually, it's a traffic report. It's saying you couldn't get into Paris tonight even if you wanted to do so. There's been an accident on the road between the airport and the city; all lanes are blocked.” She turned off the radio.
“Good. I'll look forward to coming back here with you someday and strolling the Tuilleries Garden, the Seine, and the Champs Elysees. I might even try the Eiffel Tower, assuming I can bury my head in your chest periodically going up if they still have that open view lift.”
“Your fear of heights isn't that bad, is it?”
“I don't know anymore. The highest I’ve been lately is going over a four-foot jump on Jack. You started this convo talking about food. Are you hungry? The nice thing about being in a French hotel in France is surely we can get a decent meal from room service.” She grabbed the menu and started to read. “Then again, maybe not.”
DIANA
I feel so bad for Terry, my big, strapping, athletic bloke. The least exertion tires him in the extreme. Thank God for the Vicodin; it keeps him from wanting to be too active.
Our entry point back into the US was the airport in Bangor, Maine. The Customs and Immigration agents seemed to have the drill for meeting private planes down pat. Terry didn't even have to move from the makeshift bed Jerry had made for him on the Lear. The officials came on the plane, checked our passports, asked the usual commodities questions, and left; they didn't even have a drug dog. Lachlan spent more time refueling than we did handling the formalities. One more airport and we'd be home.
Our last airport on this trip is the small regional airport a few miles from the farm. It‘s used primarily for business jets and private Lears or Gulfstreams. Lachlan would have no problem landing there unless he clipped the cornfield right next to the runway or the ducks from the lake had decided to sunbathe on it.
At the last minute, Terry balked at leaving the plane in the wheelchair. “I can hold the railing on the lift. You lot can stand round me if you’re worried about me falling.” Sighs of various strengths came from three very tired people – Dino, Jerry, and me.
Dino patted me on the shoulder. “Dee, it's only going to get worse, you know.”
“Oh, thanks. My consolation is I'll have fresh reinforcements. People who deal with nasty attitude all the time.”
Terry perked up. “Do you mean Gretchen? I know she's not a battle axe, or you'd have described her to me.”
We gave in and supported Terry to the lift Gretchen had arranged with the airport ground crew to meet us. I saw the welcoming party arrayed on the tarmac. Sooze, Dolores, and Sarah stood by the Tahoe with a sign that said “Welcome Home, Terry!” Dolores had been a busy girl making it. That child really does adore Terry; he looks on her as a niece. Nancy and Bill stood with Gretchen and the walker at the foot of the lift. I walked backwards out the door with my hands on Terry's chest. It's a good thing that Dino was concentrating on supporting Terry's left side, trying to stay away from his leg; he would have seen the rakish smile on Terry's face as he remembered the first time I’d walked backwards with him; God knows I’ll never forget that night. Terry’s definitely getting better – his hard-nosed attitude, his willingness to laugh, his wish to move around all point to recuperation.
Terry grabbed the railing as Dino, Jerry, and I arrayed ourselves around him. The lift shuddered once; six hands flew to steady Terry. His right hand had been resting on my shoulder; I bet I have a bruise tomorrow from his tightened grip.
“This might not have been such a good idea.” I knew that admission probably cost him. A bruise for an admission of fallibility; I think that's a good trade. The lift started again, smoothly this time, and we slowly glided to the ground.
We stepped aside for the physically awkward hellos. Terry had to keep holding onto the railing and keep his weight on his right leg. If I’d thought his thighs were tree trunks before, his right one would look like a fucking oak before he can put weight on his left again. Nancy hugged him first while Bill shook his hand and patted his shoulder above Nancy's arm. I could see the emotion and concern for Terry in Bill’s face, and when he spoke, it was plain in his voice. “Good to have you home, Terry.”
“Good to be home.”
They stood back so the rest of the welcoming party could say hello. Before Dolores could hug his waist, Terry held her shoulder at arm's length. “You got prettier whilst we were gone.” He gave her a sweet smile, which she returned shyly. He was already getting tired.
“I missed you, Uncle Terry! Does it still hurt?”
“Only a bit, Love. Seeing you makes it better.”
Sooze nudged Dolores towards Dino, and she launched herself at him. All the pent up energy she hadn't been able to unleash on Terry was redirected at Dino. While she was talking a mile a minute to him, Gretchen took the opportunity to introduce herself and get Terry to start using the walker to get to the car.
“Gretchen Cottman. I'm looking forward to working with you, Mr. Thorne.”
Terry stopped feeling his way towards the front of the lift long enough to say, “Please call me Terry. We'll get along much better if you do.”
As a measure of how much all this had taken out of him, he didn't notice Gretchen's looks. She's a tall drink of water and on the slim side. Her build belies how strong she is.
“Dee, how are you doing?” Gretchen asked.
“I guess I'm fine. I didn't get shot.”
Terry half turned as he reached the front of the lift. “Gretchen, she's bloody exhausted. She's taken good care of me, but she hasn't let too many people help her.”
“Team Thorne is mobilized and ready for action. Most of what happens now will still be up to you two, but you have back up now. We've been through it before and know the shortcuts you can safely take. For example,” she pointed to the walker, “you won't need the seat often, but I thought it might come in handy today.” Terry sank gratefully onto the seat, already trusting Gretchen's judgment that this lightweight looking device was safe for him. “It also comes equipped with this handy carpenter's apron so you can carry your laptop here, Coke here, books – whatever you need. You'll get some of your independence back quickly now. If you were to be on the walker longer than two weeks, I'd have gotten you the SUV version.” Terry gave her a grateful smile.
She knelt down to show him the stationary legs. “These legs will give you the stability you’ll need for the first week.” She pulled two tennis balls with neatly cut holes in them from her pocket. “These will keep the floors from getting scratched.” She handed the balls to Terry who looked up surprised. “Your walker, your balls. Use the pouch; it might remind you of home.
“Caught your breath? Good. Figure out how to get up and turn around. Let the walker support your weight. Keep your left leg mostly elevated …don’t do more than touch your toes to the ground. The orthopod and I’ll tell you when you can start weight-bearing on that leg. Try it too soon, and you break loose the healing that’s started.”
Terry tried to hand me the balls. Gretchen took them back instead and shoved them back in her pockets. “I'll help you today, but don’t get used to it.” Her grin took the sting out of the words, but she was quite adamant in her position.
Terry tested the aluminum handles with a quiet crowd around him. He found the balance point quickly and stood on his good leg. Turning around took him much longer. We knelt on the tarmac for Gretchen to show me how to adjust the seat and the height so that I’d know how to do both in the future. That was her excuse for us being on the ground; in reality, Gretchen and I were the human bumpers in case he fell forward. The other points of the compass were covered by Dino, Sooze, Dolores, Sarah, Nancy, Bill, Jerry, and Lachlan clustered around Terry. Her explanations to me were so routine for her that she had no difficulty keeping her focus on Terry in his 180° journey.
Gretchen leaned over to me and whispered, “Don't worry that you weren't paying attention to me. I want to get Terry out of the sun, but I want him navigating to the car on his own. You'll get a replay when I show him the mods he can make at home. Here’s the instructions; hide them in your pants pocket and read them as soon as he goes to sleep.”
Terry was sweating with the effort, but he had a look of accomplishment on his face. Gretchen handed him the tennis balls, and he popped them into his pouch. “It's always good to have an extra set! Thanks, Love.”
I removed the vacated seat and stuck it under my arm. Gretchen began explaining the peculiar rhythm of the glide/step required to use a walker and moved it for him for the first few steps. Before he tried it on his own, she stopped him. The jovial woman was gone; in her place was a deadly serious practitioner. “Listen to me before you move. Move EXACTLY as I showed you. If you fall and screw up that broken bone, the doctors have NO WAY of setting it. It’s a lost cause. There is NO treatment at that point other than amputation above the highest point of the break …at the hip joint, Terry, because your fractures start so high on the femur.”
I looked around our little group. The shock and horror on each face as they considered the ramifications on Terry's life and its impact on each of them individually convinced me that I’d have all the support I needed if Terry forgot the warning and tried to push too hard. He was sheet white under his Cypriot tan. Gretchen's warning not only got his attention; it had taken firm root …at least for the moment.
“Okie dokie.” He slid the walker forward half the distance Gretchen had, rested his weight on it, and stepped into the walker's structure. Gretchen stayed on his left and me on his right. She pointed to Dino and Bill to walk just behind Terry on his flanks and waved everyone else to stay where they were. She has the same command presence required of any good officer.
I heard the crunch of gravel on the apron and turned to see an unknown car pulling to a stop about ten feet from us – looked like a rental. Reags was out of the car before Max could get the key out of the ignition. They must have come straight from DFW on their flight from Rome. They both sprinted towards the Tahoe and waited for the congregation there. Max stood and watched us for a couple of seconds, then walked towards us, stopping about five feet in front of Terry, carefully watching his progress. It hit me then. The innate misogyny in Max was showing; he wasn’t going to trust his best mate’s well-being to two women, even if one of them was wearing green surgical scrubs and the other would put her own life on the line for Terry. Terry stopped to catch his breath and looked up at Max as he spoke.
“Terry, it is good to see you on your feet.”
“Thanks, Mate.” He took a deep breath and resumed his slow progress to the truck.
Gretchen encouraged Terry’s every step to the back seat on the driver's side of the Tahoe. She had Dino and Bill move forward and help support Terry so he could save his strength for the upcoming effort as she demonstrated how he was to get into the truck, taking particular care to show all of us how to hold his leg immobile. Max stood aside, watching carefully, listening to Gretchen's next words even more carefully. “Terry, this is where you have to give up some of your independence. It will be a long time before you can drive again. Be thrilled you’re getting in on the driver's side; it's the closest you’ll get to driving until you get off the pain meds. Your back will end up leaning on the passenger side door with your left leg on the seat and your right foot on the floor. This is a three-person operation. Your only job is to get inside the truck. Diana and your other helper will do everything else.”
Dino and Bill took a step back to give Terry room to maneuver. Bill counterbalanced the walker as Terry pushed off it and grabbed the hand hold inside the back door, hopped on the running board with his right leg, and balanced there for the moment; I held my breath as he wavered. I was too far away to help him. It didn't matter there were seven or eight people to catch him should he need it; they aren't me. I would be failing him. Intellectually, I knew that was a crock; emotionally, I had to be everything he needed. I felt guilty because he was hurt.
Bill moved the walker aside with his foot as he leaned forward watching Gretchen support under Terry's knee and heel, lifting the leg as he sat sideways on the seat. Bill slid his hands under hers.
To her questioning look Bill answered, “I live down the road. I'll be around the most when he needs to go anywhere. I'll get him in and out safely.” Dino and Max, the B team, stood just behind him watching as well.
Gretchen had Bill hold Terry's leg level but not touching the seat. Terry started scooting towards the passenger door with his hands and arms supporting his full body weight. I leaned in the passenger side back seat door and hooked my arms under his armpits to make his slide across the seat as smooth and gentle as possible. His shirt was wringing wet even though a hot Texas wind was using the two open doors as a wind tunnel. After a false start or two, Terry made it all the way into the truck. Bill slowly and gently lowered Terry's broken leg onto the seat. Terry had gotten his bum leg on the seat. Another small victory on the bumpy road to recovery.
Terry reached for the pillow on the floor; it was to go between his back and the knobs on the door. First thing I'll do when we get home, after I’ve gotten him into bed, gotten another pain pill down him, and given him a sponge bath, is duct tape that sucker to the door. Well, maybe I'll do it in the morning.
Gretchen, who seemed to be everywhere making corrections to all of us, reached out and put her hand on Terry's speaking softly, gently. “Don't. Remember, your only job is to get into the truck. Dee will be standing on the outside of the door helping you get in; give her some time to get the pillow arranged once you’re comfortable on the seat. She’s responsible for the pillow and the walker if you aren't in it.” My heart broke for him. Even when we hauled hay, Terry always opened car doors for me. It’s such a part of his nature to be a gentleman. He does things. This will be so hard for him.
I hope her admonition regarding the alternative treatment will define the boundaries within which we have to work. I‘d envisioned having to fight Terry tooth and toenail the entire time he was on the walker. I think the prospect of amputation ended that necessity.
While I put the folded walker and its seat into the back of the truck and moved to the driver's seat, Gretchen had everyone come say their good byes to us. As I helped Dolores roll up Terry's sign, Sooze stuck a sheet in my back pocket. “It's a schedule for visits. Let me know if you need it rearranged. I’ve scheduled visitors around times for naps, rehab, and doctor's appointments. Call me if anyone stays over their allotted time. I'll have a word with them.” God bless her!
Terry got pats on his cheek and handshakes through the open window. He couldn't rearrange his body for much more.
Nancy gave me some last minute instructions on re-heating the casserole she had made for our dinner and how to anchor the front step ramps Bill had made; Gretchen kept talking quietly to Terry. She’s perhaps the best I’ve ever seen at quieting a frightened horse; now I know where she learned it – from dealing with her human patients.
Gretchen spoke to both of us. “I'll follow you home and get you situated. I won't stay long today. I'll see you tomorrow after your doctor's appointment when we'll discuss what you can, and more importantly, what you can't do after I’ve talked to your doctor.”
She tossed me two pieces of foam and two very soft horse flannels and addressed Terry. “We'll put these on the walker handles tomorrow, or your hands will be sore. We don't want you to avoid using it because your soft, little hands hurt.”
Gretchen's tone was cheerier, but Terry was subdued. My mood was somewhere between the two.
TERRY
Gretchen was as good as her word. She showed me how to get out of the truck, tested Bill's ramps, and monitored my entry into the house. She gave the house a quick once over for accessibility, had a quick chat with Diana, and left.
“Alone at last. This is the most you've done in yonks.” Diana had brightened appreciably, though it seemed a bit forced. She sat on the floor of our bedroom leaning against the bed where I lay stretched out, too tired to get out of my sweaty clothes. Diana had already made sure that I had a glass of water and pain pills on the night stand ready for me to take when I needed, my fucking walker at the ready. The dogs were looking in the door expectantly.
“I'll leave the dogs out for the time being. You've got to be tired.”
“I am. I don't think I have the energy to get undressed.”
“You'll rest better if you do. At least let me take off your shoe.” My footwear consisted of my right shoe and a sock on the left foot. Diana had insisted that my fashion sense be damned since Cairo. It was comfort and ease all the way.
“All right.” She knelt by my feet and reached to untie my trainer.
She smiled up at me. “This is different. You normally stop me.”
“I won't stop you today. But I really don't want you doing this often.”
Diana asked the dreaded question. “Why?” She stopped before pulling my shoe off my foot.
If I could tell her about Quito, I could certainly tell her about my life before I ever knew her. I winced and propped myself against the headboard urging her to come away from her task. It could wait. I wish this conversation could.
“You know how the British Navy’s always said, 'Every man's a bachelor south of Gibraltar'?”
“Yeah?”
“The same is true for soldiers.” Bloody hell. Just spit it out, Thorne. “If I couldn't find a local girl I fancied, I paid for it.”
“I had assumed that though I can't imagine you without ....” She had a cheeky tone to her until she looked at my face. She reached out to stroke the lines that had formed.
Her fingers rested on my lips as she let me continue. “There seems to be a standard way of undressing a John. She always knelt to take off my shoes.”
“Did it turn you on?”
“No. If I was going to fuck her, it seemed like I ought to be able to get out of my own bloody clothes.”
“Aw, domination and control issues there.” From the twinkle in her eye, I think she's taking the piss with me.
“Be serious, Diana. You told me if something was bothering me to tell you about it. I'm trying here, and you're using humour to distance us from it.” She's trying to joke about my reaction to her kneeling to stop her hurt, to keep her emotions at bay. Well, perhaps she’s trying to keep it from hurting me.
She tried to get serious; she got half way. “Terry, I won't begin to speak for anyone else in the world. When I try to get to your shoes, I have one of several motivations. One, you're tired, and on those occasions it looks like if you bent over to take them off, you'd fall on your face. Two, it seems like a very intimate gesture. Three, I'm in a hurry to get to the good parts, and those shoes have got to go. Or four, you're getting mud on the carpet. The way you toe off your shoes, the mud gets ground in. Do any of those sound like the motivation a prostitute might have?”
“Kneeling seems to demean the woman; it’s a subservient position. I don't want to do that to you. You're my partner, my equal; you stand beside me.”
“Boomer, there are so many other ways besides shoes to degrade another person; I've had every one of them used on me. I’ve never felt demeaned when I've gone for your shoes. If you ever get close to making me feel less than your equal, I’ll tell you immediately, and in no uncertain terms, what you’re doing and how I'm feeling about it. I won't wait until we're in private.” She kissed the back of my hand with the twinkle back in her eye. “And here I was thinking it was because you were trying to keep me from finding out your feet stink! This is so much easier to take. So, can I take off your shoe now so you can get some sleep?”
DIANA
We’d brought the films from Cyprus with us to Terry's first visit to the orthopedist, Joseph Dakin. Dr. Dakin took more X-rays and asked where Terry's leg hurt the worst.
Terry pointed out two places; I noticed that he kept his finger well above his leg.
“How bad is the pain? On a scale of one to ten with one being no pain and ten is 'Kill me now it hurts so bad.'”
“It stays between four and six I would say.” What a time for Terry to pull this macho crap. I've seen him sit and break into a cold sweat before he’d taken the pain meds.
The doctor doesn't believe him either. “All right. We'll say five to eight.”
Dakin slapped the two sets of X-rays onto his light box so we all could see. “Your breaks – and there are multiple breaks - are what we call hairline and compression fractures, so the breaks are jagged. See here …and here?” He pointed to the two areas on the pictures that corresponded to the areas Terry had shown him. “The fractures are small, but they rub against each other, bone-on-bone, when you move, and the smallest of movements will cause them to move. That’s what causes most of your pain because virtually any movement of your body will move the fractures. If you didn’t have an open and healing surgical wound, I’d cast the leg from groin to ankle to keep it immobile. We'll have to keep a close eye on this, but all in all, I'm quite pleased. Even though I can already see some of the fractures beginning to knit, I may still cast it once we remove the sutures. However, as it’s been less than two weeks, your current status speaks well for your overall health.”
“Which will make my leg stronger when this is done? Having a cast or not having one?”
“The cast. The leg will heal faster because it will be completely immobilized, and you’ll get back to full function more quickly.”
“How long will I have to wear it?”
“From the time it goes on, at least a month.”
Terry cut his eyes my way. “What’s going to get me back in the saddle quicker?”
The doctor laughed. “You’re not talking about riding a horse are you, Mr. Thorne? The cast is the answer to all your questions.”
I could feel the beet-redness of my face extending two inches into my hairline. Dammit, Terry, I’d already asked Gretchen about that and in a far less public setting yesterday. She told me where I could put my hands on your hips to hold you and not put pressure on your leg, that you had to be perfectly still, and I had to be incredibly careful about not being too energetic, no matter how much you wanted it. Her actual words were, “I doubt either one of you gets any satisfaction from it. It may be better if you wait a few weeks.” Yesterday I thought you were too tired for us to even try her suggestions. In addition, the timing was not optimum; I will have to be on my knees on the floor. I wanted you to have some time to consider my words and come to grips with the concepts.
Terry grinned at the doctor. “Then we go with the cast as soon as the stitches are out.”
The doctor pulled out his prescription pad and started to write. “This is for more Vicodin. How often are you taking them now?”
“Every six hours or so.” I would have kicked Terry, but I was sitting on his left side.
The doctor frowned. “You should only now be bumping up to the five-hour mark. Do NOT let the pain get intense, Mr. Thorne. It will only impede the healing progress. Who’s doing your physical therapy?”
“Gretchen Cottman.”
“Good. She also works with gunshot patients over at Parkland and has a great deal of experience with injuries of this nature. Have you seen her yet?”
“She was there when the plane landed yesterday. She brought the walker. She's due at the farm this afternoon.” I was so proud Terry didn't call the walker by its household name, i.e., my fucking walker.
“Well, let's see you walk. See what bad habits you've managed to pick up overnight.” Terry’s doing an admirable job of letting me help him with the contraption. This time it’s parked right beside him, and he can pull it over in front of the exam table to stand unaided. It’s all I can do to remain seated and not rush behind him to catch him should he topple backwards as he moves away from the table. Even with my good intentions, I still half rose as Terry stood. The doctor looked over at me.
“Ms. Walker, we have a saying in riding circles. 'Don't ride the course with your rider.' I believe it applies here as well.”
Terry laughed. “She knows. It was on my list of rules for eventing spectators that she wrote for me.” I believe he’d have reached out for me at that point if he hadn't needed the walker for support.
“Let's see you walk, Mr. Thorne. Down the hall about six feet and back …SLOWLY.” Terry hadn't taken more than three steps when the doctor stopped him. “Try to keep your left leg from swinging so much, but don't tense the muscles. Just let it hang as it will, and flex your ankle to keep your toes off the floor.” I hadn't detected any significant movement. I can spot the slightest lameness on a horse but can't see Terry's leg moving.
The doctor tries to hand me the prescription. I nod at Terry, and the doctor tucks it into the walker's pouch. “I'll see you next week. We'll take the sutures out then and make a final decision regarding a cast. If we do cast the leg, you’ll be back in motion a lot faster than without it. I also won’t have to worry about an emergency amputation.”
DINO
I try to stay out of Dee and Terry's hair. I call every day and stop by every third day since returning from my homecoming trip to Palestine; Max and I worked out the schedule without Mr. Spreadsheet’s help. Terry, Dee, and I had returned to Dallas two weeks ago, and man, the things they’ve told me have happened since they got back into the house and the things I've witnessed with my own eyes ….
Keeping the dogs away from Terry the day they got in from the airport had resulted in their being exiled from the house until the next day at the earliest. Dee spent most of the time Terry was napping out in the yard with her pups. I sat in the bedroom with Terry, looking out the French doors watching them, and they knocked her down in the grass a couple of times in their haste to love on her. No wonder she doesn't want them anywhere near Terry.
She let Okie and Holly in one at a time the next day, I hear. She bundled Okie up her arms and let Terry pat his back while the urchin grumbled about his bondage. Holly was far more amenable to the welcome home protocol once she got the Labrador Leap of Joy out of her system. She walked in unrestrained and sniffed in the direction of the wound before casting soulful eyes at her long missed bedmate. I imagine that made for a great bit of doggy confusion; if Terry was in the bed, why couldn’t she be up there with him?
Another doggy story, this time first hand. Dee was in the kitchen dipping up dog food for the two. She had the food ready and let the dogs in, figuring they’d both be more interested in food than anything else in the house. Think again. As she turned to take the bowls off the counter, we heard Terry’s shout from the lounge where he was piled up on the couch. “You little bugger!” followed by full on belly laughs. Holly was sitting and patiently waiting for her dinner, but Okie was MIA; Dee nearly ran over me in her haste to make sure Terry was alright and found Okie lifting his leg and pissing on Terry’s walker. Okie dined in the yard that evening, and Holly ate in the kitchen. I think Terry passed her a bit of his steak for being such a good girl. If they were to break up, Terry would have to get custody of Holly; she's his other girl. Okie is definitely Dee's dog.
Terry was doing fine post-op, aside from the usual problem of being cold all the time. That’s apparently common after a major injury or surgery, and Dee was keeping the A/C set between 82 and 84 degrees for Terry's comfort. She was running around in shorts and t-shirts with a damp towel around her neck trying to survive the heat; Tio was wearing flannel pajamas, a robe, and had a blanket pulled up to his chest most of the time and was still cold. She refused to turn on the heat and, one afternoon, banished him to the front porch and made him sit in the sun for an hour until he was toasty. Did I neglect to say that it was 102 degrees Fahrenheit that day? I haven’t heard him complain about being cold since then, and on my last visit, the A/C was at 78. Of course, Terry was wearing the silk thermal underwear Dee gave him for Christmas under his jammies, the aforementioned robe, and blankie.
Then there was the night that Dee invited me to stay for dinner. I don’t remember what she was serving but do know it was better than the take out I normally bring. She put Terry’s plate on the TV tray beside the couch.
He looked at it and frowned. “I don’t think I want that.”
She looked at him not exactly lovingly. “Eat it, Terry. It’s good for you, and you have to eat.”
He looked over at me, probably for reinforcement, and I shut him down. At one point years ago, Terry had told me about Henry having a tantrum about something when he was about three, stomping his foot at his dad, and saying ‘shan’t.’ I’d be willing to bet Terry’s face looked just like Henry's.
“Tio, if you say 'SHAN’T,' I’ll paddle your butt myself.” He ate what was in front of him. He managed to compliment Dee on it and mean the accolade.
Ever since Max joined the firm, the four of us – Tio, Max, Sooze, and I had a daily circle-jerk at 0900. The rest of the corporate world would refer to it as a staff meeting, but put four ex-military types in the same room and it becomes a circle-jerk. We kept up with the meetings while Terry recuperated, but it was just the three of us. Tio wanted us to do a conference call so he could participate, but Dee put her foot down. It was early summer and not that much was happening. Max and I could fill him in on our daily visits to the farm. The first ten minutes of each meeting consisted of a recap of what had happened when whichever of us had visited the Thorne/Walker household the night before. On this particular day, Max and Reags had gone by the night before, and Reags had been bearing a gift. Max said that when she handed Tio the package, he looked like a kid, and Christmas had come early. That lasted until he got into the box and found it was a hospital gown with “Seymour Heinie Originals” printed on the front with red ink. The smile became a frown, and then the smile returned. Tio said that if Reags would model it for him now, he’d model it for her when he got both legs back under him.
“Did she model it for him?” Max smiled as he answered.
“I declined for her.” Bet that took the wind out of Tio’s sails.
In Cyprus we’d thought that Gretchen would immediately become a fixture in all our lives as she got Terry started on rehab. Once we got back to Dallas and Terry saw the doctor the next day, it became apparent that Terry wouldn’t be able to begin rehab until the cast was removed. The cast was a pleasant surprise for all of us. The first week, Gretchen stopped by each evening to be sure Terry wasn’t overdoing it and, from what Dee told me, had to slow the boy down a few times to keep him from injuring the leg further.
Terry being Terry didn’t want any visitors, particularly the insurance group, to see him on the walker. He was always on the couch with the leg up anytime guests were expected, the walker folded and standing hidden behind the pillar in the dining room.
Their social life had never been busier except now the party goers came to them rather than their attending the charity, sports, art, and music events. Every time I went by to check on them, there was another new face in the house. I met Yvette, the neighbor between them and Nancy and Bill Woodson; if it weren’t for Ellie, I’d be taking a serious look at that.
Every insurance guy in Dallas had stopped by or would, and when I parked in their drive tonight, I got a surprise. There were two cars in the drive; I was expecting Robert Humphries from ConIns and one car. FUCK! Surely, she wouldn't show up here.
Dee opened the door when I rang the bell, and as we headed toward the others, she turned toward the bar, asking if I wanted a drink.
“I’ll play bartender, Beautiful. You go sit. Anyone need a refill?”
Dee looked at Terry. “Boomer, you need anything?”
He shook his head no. I’d noticed that Dee still had throw pillows over the end of the sofa below Terry’s feet. That was a nice way of letting people know that no one – not even her – was going to sit on the same piece of furniture with Terry and risk moving that leg.
Bobby and Miranda stood when I walked into the room. The shrew was here! Miranda had come with her boss. As I hugged Miranda, I looked over her shoulder to see how Dee was doing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that raw, chapped skin on her face was beard burn. I looked at Terry …clean shaven as always. Beard burn …beard burn! I grinned to myself. At least Tio was getting a little.
“The lovely Miranda …how you doing, Kid?”
“Fine, Dino. It’s good to see you again.” I leaned on the bar and watched the dynamics between Miranda and Dee, and then watched Tio to see how he was dealing with the two of them in the same room. Miranda was dressed to kill, and Dee was in jeans and a t-shirt.
I poured myself a scotch and looked around the room. I might need to pour some of the alcohol on an overly coiffed head if she forgot her manners and career aspirations.
I looked over my shoulder to see Terry pat the detached portion of the L-shaped sectional sofa. Dee walked over and sat next to him, and he put his arm over her shoulders, pulling her as close as he could get without her being on his section. He wasn’t putting on an act for Miranda's sake nor for Dee's reassurance; it was the most natural act in the world for those two. The look on Terry’s face as Dee sank down beside him told Miranda all she should need to know. The fact that Tio would put his arm around Dee in the presence of not only Miranda, but a client, said loud and clear that he was in a relationship, and he was happy as a pig in shit to let anyone know about it. If Miranda wanted any other confirmation that her presence was no longer required, all she had to do was look out the window. Okie stood on the low-lying ledge, curling his lip, grumbling at her. I like that dog more every time I see him.
The day he met Dee, Tio's PDA training went out the window. As many times as I’d seen Terry and Miranda together over the two or so years of their affair, I’d never seen him touch her other than to help her in and out of the car, on and off with her coat or to dance, and even dancing, he’d kept a formal, appropriate distance between their bodies. I glanced at Miranda, the shark, to see how she was taking that knowledge …as well as possible, given the circumstances.
Miranda was still Miranda, politically correct and socially astute. I’d bet she was wondering how this female in jeans and no make-up had taken Terry away from her. What she didn’t get was that Dee is a multi-faceted woman. She can be the nurturing caregiver, the owner and manager of a successful horse farm, the polite hostess, a fierce competitor, and a profoundly successful business woman at the same time she’s being the perfect partner for Terry. In fact, it’s those attributes that do make her the perfect partner for him. Dee could chew up the Miranda's of the world and spit them out. If Miranda had realized all those things, she’d be running out the door, shrieking as it slammed behind her.
Dee, on the other hand, was going through the checklist of her self-perceived faults, wondering how Terry had chosen her over the designer-suit clad lovely Miranda. Dee’s thinking that she has beard burn from giving Terry a blow job, she’s in jeans, no make-up, circles under her eyes from no rest, the house looks like a rehab hospital with Terry’s meds on the table and the walker behind the column, and she feels second best. Maybe she’ll get rid of some of her fears one of these days and realize what a prize she really is.
Tio … even with his leg shot to shit, I’d never seen the man more content. Of course, right now he was preoccupied with social chit chat and watching the interplay between Dee and Miranda. Because she was with her boss, Miranda was on her best behavior, though I’ve seen her get snide in the past. If she tried that tonight, it would cost her serious points with the boss, and Miranda would never take that chance. On the off chance she did get snide with Dee, I'd decided to let Okie into the house and let him do the dirty work. Those Ferragamo shoes wouldn’t be worth much after he’d pissed on one of them.
I walked back to the lounge with my drink and sat in one of the empty chairs to hear Miranda saying, “You knew that ‘Phantom of the Opera’ was back at Fair Park …and you heard that Russell Crowe bought that rugby team in Sydney …what are they called?”
Dee smiled. “It’s the South Sydney Rabbitohs.”
Terry grinned and hugged her tighter. “Yeah, I sent my proxy in with my vote in favor of the buy-in, but that was back in the spring. You’re a bit behind the times, Miranda.” Tio had noticed the undercurrent even in his weakened condition. Judging from the pinpoint size of his pupils, I’d say the pain medication was working well. What Terry didn’t say was that Miranda was behind the times in more ways than one. I was surprised he didn't get the dig in; he could blame it on the pain meds. I looked at Bobby, and he appeared decidedly uncomfortable. Miranda had brought Terry to a few too many of their company functions for him not to at least suspect something was going on, and now he was seeing Terry with a woman he damned well knew had a serious relationship with Terry. I gave the man five more minutes before he pulled the plug, and they were out the door.
Actually, it only took three, and Dee, ever the gracious hostess, walked them to the door. “Thank you both so much for coming. It was a wonderful surprise for Terry.”
Well, now, wasn’t that interesting? She closed the door and leaned against it for a second before coming back to us.
I had to ask. “Boomer? Where the fuck did you get that?”
Dee laughed. “Back in the early days, I went looking for ‘Strine sites on the net so I could become fluent in Terry's preferred language. Boomer was there – it's an adult male kangaroo – and last Christmas, it just slipped out.”
Terry looked at me. “She was a bit annoyed with me at the time; I thought it better than dickhead. Now she uses it when she’s either truly annoyed or feeling particularly affectionate.” He giggled; oh, yeah, the pain meds were working. He wrapped his long arm across her chest pinning her arms. “Or when you're pissing a circle round me.”
She smiled up at him in lieu of a shrug. “You didn’t object to it, and I like the sound of 'Boomer.' As to staking my claim, Miranda started the pissing contest on Labor Day when you were in London. Now that’s a mighty wide circle – London to Dallas. If you recall, I hadn't even met you yet. I thought it was a bit of overkill on both counts.”
“If Terry is Boomer, I suppose the rest of us are the mob?” We all laughed. “Is there a word for an adult female kangaroo?”
Dee shrugged. “Fuck if I know!”
I feigned contemplation. “Nope, can't see Tio using 'Fuck if I know' to get your attention at all those society dos you attend. Do you have an endearment for Dee? I don’t want to confuse who I’m talking to. With Max, I never know whether to call Reags ‘Reags’ or Cara or Cassandra.”
“There’s no specific term for a female ‘roo, though the babies are joeys. Now to this one …I started off calling her ‘Baby,’ and Diana took great exception to that, didn’t you, Lady?” He let her go and started absent mindedly toying with the topaz around her neck. I didn’t need to question that derivation; she is a lady whether or not she needs or wants to be.
Terry changed subjects. “Do you think my getting shot will impact business? Think the clients will think us less competent because I was wounded?”
REAGAN
I picked up the phone to hear Dee’s voice at the other end.
“You busy tomorrow? I haven't looked at the wedding calendar since we've been back.”
“This is the quiet before the storm. Nothing more serious than watching the pups shed so I don’t get out of practice with the vacuum. Please, tell me you need me to come help with something before I yak up a furball.”
“I do. Terry’s stitches come out tomorrow, and the cast goes on. Nancy and Bill are gone, and I hate to pull Max or Dino out of the office.”
“Great. What can I do?”
“Come over and help me get him into the truck, to the doctor’s office, and then home again. You can practice on Max's leg tonight.”
“Can do easy, and Maximus will love it. What time do I need to be there?”
“His appointment’s at 1100 …can you be here by nine? He’d probably like to visit with someone other than me for a while before we start pushing him out the door.” She sighed. “It does take a while to go anyplace. I have the feeling he’s going to be in pain on the way home.”
“Probably not as much pain as you think, and yeah, I can be there at nine. Want me to bring breakfast? There’s a new kolache shop on my way to the interstate, and I’ve already sampled the wares …they’re wonderful.”
“Oh, please, yes. I’ll have poured his high-protein drink down him before you get here, and kolaches might put a smile back on his face. He might like the drink better if I cut it half-and-half with scotch, but I don't dare, not as long as he’s still on the Vicodin.”
“I will arrive bearing kolaches and a few croissants tossed in for good measure. See you at nine.”
*
Dee opened the door as I pulled into the drive.
“How’s the lord and master’s disposition this morning?”
“Better now that he realizes the cast goes on today, and we can relegate the walker to the back of the coat closet – the contraption, not me.” I grinned at her play on words. Her fatigue hadn’t come at the cost of her sense of humour.
“Well, then, let’s go put an early smile on his face; the kolaches are still warm.”
She grinned. “I didn’t tell him you were bringing them. He’ll be so tickled!” I walked into the lounge to find one Terrence Thorne in a long-sleeved flannel shirt and winter-weight sweats. He turned when he heard me.
“Hey, Love! I hear you’re going to be helping us get in and out of the truck today.”
“I am, and just to get you off to a good start, I brought you a present.” I handed the bag of kolaches to him after giving the one of croissants to Dee. He looked into the open bag, sniffed, and grinned like a kid.
“Kolaches …love’em and haven’t had one since before Cairo.” I’m surprised he didn’t say that with his mouth full, but as soon as he got the last word out, a kolache was in and being chewed. He swallowed and groaned in delight. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Jesus, Terry, the last time I heard anything like that, it was Max in mid-stroke.”
The next groan was real, but he laughed. “Thanks very much …for the present, I’m stuck with oral gratification.” At that we all laughed. I do love a double entendre.
*
At 1232, one very chagrined Terry came out of the cast room on a pair of crutches. Dee looked at me, her eyebrows going up in question. Behind Terry’s back, I mouthed the words to her, ‘I’ll tell you later.’ She went to him on the right side and gently hugged him. His arm snaked round her waist as he returned it, and he kissed the top of her head. Twenty minutes later, we were in the Tahoe, and some of Terry’s normal cheek was returning.
“It’s a good job you two thought to remove the ramp when we left the house. The last thing the tech said was that I’m not to try walking on ramps with the crutches. It wouldn’t do to fall and break my arse in addition to the leg.” Dee was driving, and I turned so that I could look at him in his position on the back seat.
“So, any problems in the cast room?” Uh huh …the flush moving up his face told me all I needed to know. I’d let him off the hook.
“They offered me a pink cast, and I went for white.”
“Blue suits you better, but we can live with the white. It’s not as heavy as you’d anticipated, is it?”
“Not by half. I had visions of one of those old plaster things, but they use fiberglass these days.” I nodded.
“Yeah, it’s a lot lighter, and only takes minutes to set with a blow dryer. You’ve had been there the rest of the day waiting for a plaster cast to cure.”
He giggled. “Well, it was far and away the most interesting blow job I’ve had to date!” Dee looked at him in the rear view mirror.
“Hey!” I do like the fact that the two of them are still able to share a laugh. Terry seemed delighted to be able to move round in the back seat and leaned towards Diana in the driver's seat.
He ruffled then smoothed her hair and spent the rest of the trip home with his hand on her shoulder. I don't know if the rest of us will be able to stand them come mid-summer.
*
We got Terry into the house, and as Dee got him oriented – crutches were a new thing for him – I ran through the rooms, picking up the few throw rugs she had scattered about. Crutches and hardwood floors work fine, as the rubber tips preclude slipping. Crutches and carpets are also fine. Crutches and throw rugs on hardwood floors are a disaster in the making, as they’re a guaranteed slip-and-fall. I tossed them in the utility room and returned to see Terry heading for the bedroom as Dee followed him with the computer chair; it was the only wheeled chair in the house. He stopped and turned to look at her.
“What are you doing?”
“If you put one scratch on the hardwood floors with your new toys, you’re going to sand them down, restain, varnish, and polish them …and you’re doing it yourself rather than hiring it done.” He grinned at her and vanished. He does know how to get on her good side. One smile from him, and she's putty. She rolled the chair back to the computer desk as I came through the north door to the kitchen, and she reminded me about my statement in the doctor's office.
“What were you going to tell me later?”
“The chagrined look on Terry’s face when he came out of the cast room …he had an erection whilst they were putting on the cast.”
“No way!”
“It happens to every adult male when a full-leg cast goes on …they have to smooth it into the groin area to make sure the edges aren’t sharp, and with that kind of stimulation – particularly when the man hasn’t had sex in a while, and he qualifies – it causes the normal response. It embarrassed him. I’d have warned him before hand, but if I had, he’d probably have been even more embarrassed. At least this way, he can delude himself that I don’t know, though he may tell you.”
“He’s getting enough …I’m the one who’s doing without! And embarrass Terry? That's pretty hard to do.”
“It still isn’t the same as intercourse, and you know it.”
She smiled sadly, nodded, and moved on. “We all need to eat. He's dropped a few pounds which is good. Less to haul around on the crutches, but he needs the balanced meals for his body to heal. And you, my dear, have a wedding dress to fit into.” Dee was pulling leftovers out of the fridge as I strolled down to the master suite. I tapped on the doorframe and waited for Terry’s response before stepping into the room.
“Yeah, Love …what is it?” I leant on the doorframe and looked at him as he sat on the side of the bed. I moved to help lift his leg as he swung on to the bed and settled into the propped up pillows with a sigh.
“When did you have your last pain pill?” He looked at his watch.
“Just before eight this morning.” It was now almost three, and I knew he was likely hurting.
“I have a deal for you.” He looked at me, head tilting to one side.
“What’s on offer?”
“If you think you can tough it out until eight without the Vicodin, I’ll talk Dee into letting you have your first dose of oral anaesthesia since Cairo. I brought a celebratory bottle of Glenfiddich with me …it’s in the car. A couple of stiff scotches should take the place of pain meds for the next few hours.” Next to Maximus, Terry has the most beautiful and genuine smile I’ve ever seen, and this one lit up his eyes. He crooked a finger at me and patted the side of the bed. I walked over and sat gingerly on the side, and he hugged me, following it with a kiss on the cheek before speaking again.
“Reags, you’re a true mate!” Dee stuck her head round the door.
“Whatcha’ doin’?” She saw me on the bed and laughed. “Jesus! Every time I turn my back, you two are in bed together!”
“You get glasses. I brought Terry a bottle of Glenfiddich. It’s in the car.”
I was back in two minutes, and we carried three glasses and the bottle in to Terry who poured for us. We clicked glasses as a wicked smile stole over Terry’s face.
“If I’d realised it would get me great scotch and two beautiful blondes in bed with me, I’d have got myself shot years ago!”
