Physical Therapy (20 page)

I was hooked up to an IV and something felt weird about my dick. I had bandages on my head and from the feel, stitches or staples. I tried my voice, but my tongue was dry and felt like sandpaper. I pried my mouth open and found I could only croak. I looked around and saw a Call button on the pillow next to me, but I was too weak to press it.

I closed my eyes and drifted again. I have no idea if anyone came to check on me. I fell back into a sound sleep. I dreamed of police cars and flashlights. I dreamed that I was lying on the ground and the EMTs were working on me. That irritating light was dancing in my eyes again, only this time when I looked at it closely, instead of seeing it being pulled away I saw a police flashlight coming down on my head to crush it.

I gasped and jerked, giving a hard tug on the IV line that was still attached to my hand. My head exploded with pain and my vision swam.

“Jordan.” I heard a woman"s voice. “It"s me. Don"t tug your arm, okay? It"s got the IV thing in it and you"ll tear something.”

“Izzie,” I said, barely whispering the words through horribly chapped lips.

“Oh, honey.” Izzie ran a fingertip over the back of my hand. “Someone hit you over the head.”

“Why?” If I had been back home, I wouldn"t have needed to ask. But here in St.

Nacho"s? I didn"t remember doing anything worthy of that kind of attack. I hadn"t been in town long enough to piss anyone off that badly.

“I don"t know.” Izzie sounded close to tears.

“Was it…Ken?” I thought I"d prepared myself for the answer to that question, but as soon as the question left my mouth, I realized I hadn"t even prepared myself to ask it.

It was going to hurt if Ken had done this to me. I knew I"d made him angry, knew I"d hurt him. But damn, if he"d done this to me, I wouldn"t know what to do.

“It wasn"t Ken. Hell no,” Izzie said. “That was a vicious assault; I know Ken would never do anything like that.”

“I know. I didn"t really… I thought maybe—”

“No, Jordan. I know Ken would never do this; the police are still trying to find out who did. It looks like an ordinary robbery. Someone took your car and your wallet.” I almost laughed, but everything hurt too much. What a joke. A ten-year-old car and a wallet with nothing in it but a couple of twenties. If they searched my room, they might have found the rest of my cash.

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“The room?” I mumbled. Even that amount of talking was making me sick to my stomach.

“No, I don"t think so. Andy said they didn"t have time. The night clerk in the motel saw a man running and then someone drove your car out of the parking lot at top speed. He thought it was you and came out to have a look around to see if you did any damage, and that"s when he found you. Andy said the EMTs think you"re lucky he did.”

“Oh, fuck, Izzie.” I was drowning in pain and my vision was getting worse. “Call the doctor. I can"t…blurry…my right eye.” My fingers tingled and there was a funny metallic taste in my mouth. Izzie wavered in my field of vision, such as it was, and the last thing I saw was the expression of fear on her face as she grabbed up the Call button for the nurses" station.

* * * * *

I woke the next time to find Cooper dozing in a chair near my bed. I stared at him for a while. I no longer heard the breathing of the other patient in the room. It seemed ominous. I lay there trying to be as quiet as possible, worrying that something awful was on the other side of that curtain. Eventually I outsmarted myself and was forced to take a deep, shuddering breath. Cooper"s eyes fluttered open at the sound.

“Hey,” he said in a low, soft voice, his head still resting on his hand. He shifted a little, leaning in. Something about the dark and the quiet must have affected him; I don"t suppose there was really any reason to whisper, except it seemed to be the thing to do.

I still didn"t completely grasp what was happening to me. I"d heard snatches of conversations and opened my eyes to see the faces of people I didn"t know. Doctors and nurses woke me up to ask me questions, take blood, or stick me with needles. Waking up to find Cooper next to me was like the sun shining through a bad storm. Once again, I was in trouble and he was by my side.

“Hey,” I whispered back. “The fuck happened to me?”

“You were mugged,” Cooper offered with a shrug.

“Mugged.” I tried to imagine. “That"s what I get for coming to the big city.” Cooper looked at me to see if I was kidding. I don"t think he believed I was until I cracked a painful smile. He was still so beautiful. He lowered his lashes sleepily and grinned. I took in the familiar planes of his face, his piercings, and the barbell in his eyebrow. I could make out the tat on his neck. Just seeing him was reassuring.

“Scary in here. Where"s my roommate?”

“Went home,” he told me. “You"ve been out of it for a couple of days.”

“Jeez.” It was frightening that time had passed without me realizing. “I"m Rip van Winkle. Do they have flying cars yet?”

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Cooper made a shushing sound. “You don"t need to joke, Jordie. I know how scared you are.” He brushed a finger along my arm.

“I"m glad you"re here,” I told him. “I"m sorry. You always have to—”

“Don"t.” Cooper cut me off. “I"m here. Izzie called. She told me that we should take turns so you always had someone you knew here when you woke up.” My chapped lips were cracking, and it hurt to try to talk. “That"s nice.”

“I should call Andrew Callahan. He wanted to know when you could answer questions.”

“Don"t call him. I"m not ready yet.” I thought back to that moment—so shocking—

when I was attacked. “How bad am I hurt?”

“They didn"t tell me. Izzie was crazy with worry, though. She said she was here and you had a seizure.”

“I don"t remember,” I murmured.

“No, I don"t suppose so.” He reached over and pressed the nurses" station Call button. “Maybe someone can answer your questions. If I were you I"d want answers.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I still felt too weak to lift my arms and signal for myself. What was wrong with me? I could hardly stay awake. I was starting to get that panicky feeling, almost as though I were being buried alive, like there was no air and no way out.

I was breathing in a jerky, frantic way that was bound to lead to hyperventilation when a young-looking Latino walked into the room in a turquoise scrub shirt and pants. “Hey. You"re awake.”

I looked up at him, wondering who he was.

“What"s the matter?” he asked, his dark brown eyes full of concern. “Calm down, Jordan. Can I call you Jordan? I"m Mike.” He took my wrist and checked my pulse.

“You"re racing a little. Is something worrying you?” I nodded. “I feel scared,” I told him. I was embarrassed for Cooper to hear it. For some reason, whenever I closed my eyes I could see that flashlight coming down on my head, and my breathing sped up. It was as if I could hear the sickening crunch of metal on bone all over again. My heart started to slam against my rib cage, and I felt my skin crawl. “If I close my eyes I—”

“Shh.” Cooper reached out a hand and squeezed my arm to slow me down.

“I"m okay,” I said automatically, although it was a lie. “Just a little scared… I keep thinking about it. When I close my eyes.”

“I understand that"s pretty common,” said Mike. “When people have accidents or suffer an assault, I think that it"s normal to relive it for a while, and it can feel pretty real. I"ll tell the doctor, though, that you"re having these feelings. Did they just start?”

“I don"t know. I was fine… Then—” Mike was rubbing my hand gently. It was something to focus my attention on. “Then I felt… I couldn"t breathe.” Physical Therapy

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“You had a substantial blow to the head. You have a concussion. You remember the incident?”

I nodded. My problem seemed to be that I couldn"t forget it.

“In the morning, the doctor will explain everything. You"ve been in and out of consciousness for several days.”

“Several?” I looked at Cooper.

He nodded.

I looked toward the window. “I can"t tell the time.”

“It"s nighttime,” Mike said. “Three in the morning. The doctor will see you as soon as he can.”

Even that small interaction exhausted me. I was drifting off before Mike left the room. “Cooper? My memory is for shit. How come they let you stay in here at this hour?”

“I think they"re cutting us some slack for Izzie and Andrew.”

“Yeah?” That was nice. “You can go home, you know.”

“I know.” He leaned his head back over his hand. “I just don"t want you to wake up alone. Izzie will be here in a bit.”

“Thanks.” I didn"t know what I ever did to deserve my friends. I barely lifted my hand off the bed, but he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I owe you, man.”

“Damned right you do.” He grinned and tucked his head down. It wasn"t long before I was drifting off again.

* * * * *

I dreamed I was in the hospital and Cooper was sitting beside me, just as he had been; only it was the middle of a busy day. People walked up and down the corridors in squeaky shoes, their feet making louder noises than I remembered. I heard gurney wheels rattle and squeak and the sound of machinery, all the beeps of monitors and the occasional alarm.

I was in a hospital gown, and I recall thinking it was drafty, but I woke up with the sense that I had to find something, so I had gotten up and gone to look for it. In the dream, Cooper was sound asleep, and gentle touches didn"t wake him. He had his head on his hand, and I just rose and walked past him somehow, magically free of all the tubes and monitoring devices that tethered me to the bed.

It was as if I were invisible. I passed the nurses" station, and Mike was there with two other people in scrubs. They talked together quietly, not even aware that I was listening in. They were joking about the doctors, the patients, and the charts and jovially imagining they could run the whole show. I walked past them and got on the elevator, which seemed to require an interminably long time to take me to the first floor. The Muzak was intolerable.

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When the doors opened, instead of being in the hospital, the elevator deposited me onto the beach at St. Nacho"s, just in front of Nacho"s Bar. I walked past the bar, determined that I had to do something, or find something. My feet carried me across the sand first, then the pavement, down highways, past pastureland, farms, and lakes. I wasn"t surprised to find myself walking on the main road into River Falls. It seemed the most natural thing to amble down Main Street, past Mama Lina"s and Hallowed Grounds, past Veterans Park and into the tract homes around the university.

I wasn"t even surprised when I found myself walking up to the door of the Johnsons" house, where I rapped just below the brass knocker that was inscribed with THE JOHNSON FAMILY. I was shocked when Bobby answered the door, his tiny body perfect and whole. I found the heavy cast metal flashlight someone used to hit me in my hand.

“Here,” I said and held it out for him.

He opened his tiny, perfect mouth and screamed.

* * * * *

I jerked awake like I was shot out of a cannon. “Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Beside me in a chair, dressed primly in a pair of khaki pants and a blouse with a soft pink sweater tied around her shoulders, sat my mother. “You are going to have to do something about that language. This is a
hospital
, Jordie.” She said the word
hospital
reverently, in hushed tones, like she would say priest if we were Catholic.

“
Mom
?”

“Hi, baby.” She looked around. “I got here while you were asleep. I didn"t want to wake you, so I thought…”

“How did you get here?” I noticed shadows under her eyes. There was a faint bruise on her jaw. I knew if I looked at her wrists, which were covered by her demure white blouse, I"d find more bruises. My father was more of a restrainer than a hitter. He restrained, he harangued, and usually, my mother gave in before he started hitting.

She swallowed hard. “I came on a plane,” she evaded. It wasn"t as though she didn"t know I meant
how did you get away from Dad?
She knew. She chose not to answer.

“That nice young friend of yours picked me up all the way in San Francisco last night and brought me here.”

Couldn’t be Cooper
. My mother wasn"t the type to jump on the back of a motorcycle. “Shawn?”

“Hm? No, Ken. The boy with the canes,” she said. “He was very nice. He couldn"t carry my bags, so he paid for someone to carry them and put them in the car.”

“Ken brought you here?” Why did that make me feel…? What did that make me feel?
Warm, maybe.

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“I met Izzie, your boss.” My mother smiled. “You"ve made a very good impression on her. She had the airline ticket waiting for me at the airport in St. Paul. I saw Cooper and Shawn.”

I could still hardly take it in. My mother was sitting next to me in St. Nacho"s. I"d been mugged and bashed on the head, true, but I was pretty sure this wasn"t a dream.

“My head hurts,” I told her.

She put a soothing hand out and brushed the side of my face with the knuckles on the back of her hand. She was careful. I could tell from her eyes that I still looked like hell.

“My poor baby,” she sighed, and everything melted away until it was just her fingers and me, and I was maybe two again. When I was a kid, she used to follow this up with, “You have to do everything the hard way, don"t you?” Back in the day, it was true.

“I swear, Mom, I was working hard, making friends… I was being nice and trying to be useful—”

She shushed me. “I know, Jordie. I know.”

I felt desperate to make her understand. “I don"t think this time it was entirely my fault.”

“Shh, baby,” she said. “We"ll sort it out.” After a while I was too tired to move, and I fell asleep with her hand in mine.

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Chapter Eighteen

“You, my friend,” Mike told me as he rolled me out to the parking area in a wheelchair, “will be missed.”