Survivor (6 page)

I had seen pictures of the wreckage.  The other
driver’s vehicle was larger than mine, and it had a lot of force behind it.  My
little car was pushed off the road.  It rolled down a big incline and smashed
into a bunch of trees.  Hundreds of pounds of glass and metal were twisted and
shattered, my body was crushed and battered, and yet this cheap little fish was
completely unharmed.

“I researched it, koi,”   I said awkwardly.  “Once I
was better and I could focus long enough to operate a computer.  There’s this
Japanese story about how a koi swam up a waterfall and was turned into a
dragon.  It’s supposed to represent determination to overcome obstacles.”  I
looked down at my hands, embarrassed.

Peter nodded.  “It’s a perfect symbol for you.  You
were lucky to survive, and you’ve been gifted with strength and perseverance
over adversity.”

I snorted.  “Yeah, lucky.”  Sometimes I wondered if
the damn thing was a good luck charm or a curse.  I could do without having so
much adversity to persevere against.

He pulled my hand up and gently pressed his lips to
the underside of my wrist.  “You can’t see it, because it’s just a part of who
you are.  I mean it when I say you are amazing.  You have this spark.  I love
just watching the way you go about your life.”

His deep green eyes met mine and I had trouble
breathing.  “If you think watching me muddle around is fun, you have some twisted
hobbies.”  I sounded breathless, even to my own ears.

He grinned, unrepentant.  “Are you suggesting I find
better ways to pass my time?”  The whole world seemed to close down so that all
I could see was him.  Suddenly I could feel my heartbeat with every breath, as
if he were controlling it.  I leaned toward him without even willing myself to
move.  He lifted a graceful hand to push my hair back out of my face, tucking
it behind an ear.  I felt trapped, as if I couldn’t look away.  The sensation wasn’t
nearly as alarming as it should have been.  I was losing myself, like falling
down a bottomless hole.  Peter took a deep breath and I breathed with him,
wanting to be completely joined with him.

He looked away, and the sensation started to melt. 
Ever so gently, he slipped his hand from mine and turned to pack up the rest of
my lunch things.  “I think it’s time for me to get going,” he said calmly.  He
shot a glance my way as if checking to make sure I was okay.  “You have a
meeting tomorrow, right?  I’ll drop you by.”

I shook myself and struggled to focus.  My mind
sharpened and I nodded.  “Uh, yeah.”  I had a survivor support group to
attend.  What in the world had just happened?  “Um…Peter,” I started
hesitantly.

He stopped his busywork and went still, his back to
me and his head bowed.  After a moment, he turned back and gave me a soft
smile.  “I’m sorry.”  His face had a soft expression somewhere between tenderness
and guilt.  “I didn’t mean to pull you under.  I swear I wasn’t trying to
do…anything to you.”

I broke away from his gaze, spinning the bracelet
around my wrist absently.  “I’m fine,” I lied.  “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”  I lifted my gaze to meet his and gave him a smile.  “I was
just going to ask if we could get ice cream after the meeting tomorrow.”

He didn’t believe me, but he laughed and his smile
was genuine.  “Of course.  I haven’t tried ice cream in a long time.  It sounds
good.”

I could have gone without the reminder that he
wasn’t human, but maybe that had been his intent.  What in the world was I
getting myself tangled up in?

*****

I wheeled myself into the meeting room, goodies and
a notebook piled on my lap.  I was later than usual, and most of the others had
already arrived. 

“Melody!  Girl, I thought you weren’t coming.”  A
boisterous alto lifted above the other chatter in the room and I felt people
glance around before returning to their conversations.  Joanie was loud and
overwhelming, but we were all used to the tall, boisterous redhead. 

“Sorry I’m late,” I said with a smile.  “Can you
help me put these out?”  I held up the box of homemade cookies.  The group only
met once a month, and we all brought snacks and drinks for the break.

Joanie hurried over and helped me put my cookies out
on a couple of plastic trays.  She gave me an exaggerated look, taking in my
earrings and painstakingly curled hair.  “Did you have a date?”  She was all
eager hopefulness, and I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I knew I was
turning a deep red.  Everyone within a mile radius could hear her.

“Uh, sort of,” I admitted averting my eyes.  “It was
just a picnic.”  Snagging a couple of cookies, I turned away and made my way to
a gap in the circle of folding chairs, left there for those of us who had
wheelchairs.  “It’s no big deal,” I tossed after me.

Everyone had started to take their seats and a
short, brown-haired woman in dark jeans and a snappy little red jacket came in
to take her place in the circle, unofficially calling the meeting to order. 

“Hello everyone.”  Her big smile lit up the room,
and the little side conversations started to die down.  Melissa was a Speech
therapist, and she led our group discussions and helped to keep us on track-
something that could be difficult with a group of brain injury survivors.  When
her gaze lit on me, she grinned again, obviously having overheard Joanie’s
comment.

“Today, I thought we might talk about relationships
and how you guys are doing with making friends out in the community.”  We had a
general list of topics that the group suggested, so this really wasn’t any
surprise.  I gritted my teeth.  Of course, I would love to gush about Peter,
but it was embarrassing.  Disinhibition and not being able to be entirely
appropriate all the time was a big problem for a lot of people in the group and
I really wasn’t looking forward to their questions, even if the intent was
harmless.

Melissa crossed her legs and got comfortable.  “We
can just have a general discussion,” she said, calling the meeting to order. 
“But I thought we might start with talking about what makes it hard to form
relationships with others when you have a brain injury and maybe some of the
things that help you to cope with these issues.”

Now that the discussion had turned more serious,
everyone was quiet.  Finally, Joanie raised her hand.  “I’m loud,” she said
bluntly.  “I know I am, and I try to tone it down, but I have all this energy,
and sometimes it freaks people out.  I don’t realize it until afterwards.  I’m
a little slow to catch on.”

A couple other group members nodded.  It was a
common problem.  Melissa looked around the room.  Her eyes settled on a
slender, blond woman doing her best to hide, head down and eyes averted. 
“April,” she said warmly.  “Do you find it hard to make friends out in the
community?”

The woman clasped her small hands in her lap and
screwed up her courage enough to meet Melissa’s eyes.  April had been in our
group for months, but she was still scared.  I couldn’t imagine how she coped
with meeting new people.  “It’s hard,” she said in a voice barely above a
whisper.  “I don’t like people.”

Melissa nodded.  “I know your injury has made you
more self-conscious than before.”  She smiled gently.  “But you come here every
month and talk to us.  You’re doing great and we enjoy having you.”

April nodded, her eyes darting everywhere.  “It
helps that I know we’re all messed up.”  Then she went back to looking at the
floor.

Everyone took turns sharing their experiences, from
the man who couldn’t speak well and had difficulty being understood, to the
woman who was sexually inappropriate and tended to share too much when she met
someone new.  I soaked in their stories, comforted anew by being surrounded by
people who were like me, just a step or two outside the norm.  I slowly felt
myself settle into my survivor role like an old shirt that I hadn’t worn in a
while.  Being around the people at work, my family, and all the other people in
my life who were all “normal” sometimes felt like wearing a mask. 

I took a bite of my last cookie, trying to be a
silent observer, but Melissa was having none of it.  She always picked on me
and I could never get through an entire meeting without being put on the spot. 
“Melody, how have things been going for you lately?”  Her voice was sweet, but
I knew she wouldn’t ask me if she didn’t expect me to share something with the
group.

The cookie suddenly felt dry and tasteless in my
mouth.  I glanced at the clock.  Maybe we would run out of time.  I cleared my
throat and tried to gather my thoughts.  “I’m doing fine,” I said hesitantly.

The Speech therapist was used to coaxing information
from hesitant people.  “I hear you’ve been dating.  Would you mind sharing with
the group?  What kinds of challenges are you facing?”

I took a deep breath.  Everyone was looking at me. 
Some were looking for hope, some for a juicy story, and some were just downright
jealous.  “Uh…I don’t know what to say.”  My mind faltered as I was put on the
spot.  I couldn’t think of a response fast enough.

“Can you share how you met?”  Melissa was there to
coach me through.

I swallowed.  I couldn’t really tell them that I had
helped him hide from the vampires that were chasing him, thus sparking his
curiosity.  “We met on the subway.  I was on my way to work.”

The room around me was full of smiles.  Even the
ones who were jealous were still supportive.  We all shared the bond of deep
pain and personal change.  It isn’t something that just anyone can easily
understand.  I wanted to give them hope, tell them that if someone like me
could find love, then they definitely could too.  I didn’t know how to give
them hope when I was sitting there feeling so false.  Anything I could possibly
tell them would be a lie, a half-truth at best.  “He said I was interesting
because I had been through so much and he wanted to eat lunch together.”

I could hear little murmurs of approval and someone
said, “Aww….”  I thought I might be ill. 

Melissa patted me on the knee.  “I think it’s
important to remember that how you see yourself isn’t always how others see
you,” she said honestly.  “What you’ve been through doesn’t have to be a
shameful thing.  It has been transformational for all of you, and that kind of
strength makes you interesting.  You are constantly comparing yourselves to who
you used to be- but new people only know you as you are now.”  She nodded at me
in encouragement, but I was feeling conflicted. 

“I’m tired,” I admitted, erasing her smile.  “He
isn’t like me.  It’s so hard to keep up with him.”  I looked down at my hands
then back up at the group.  “I think my biggest challenge is when I see him
beside other people- people that are whole.  Then I wonder if he should be with
someone like them instead.”  Melissa was listening, but she didn’t comment,
letting me get it out.  “What if I’m taking away his chance to be happy?

I glanced away from the group, catching a movement
out of the corner of my eye.  Peter stood in the hallway, just outside the
door.  Melissa caught my glance and started wrapping things up, but I wasn’t listening. 
Peter hadn’t come in yet, honoring the boundaries of the group, but I knew he
could hear us just fine.  His gaze caught mine and he shook his head and
mouthed something.  I thought it might have been
no one else
.

I hadn’t meant to bear my soul to him, and I felt
exposed with all the people around me.  I breathed a sigh of relief when we
were officially released and people began to congregate around the snacks and
refreshments. 

Peter and a few other spouses and significant others
came in and joined the group for refreshments.  He was genuine and relaxed, and
everyone adored him, but I could feel the subtle space between him and the
others, and that space included me when I was by his side.  I felt like I was
being pulled in two directions- us or them.  I could feel my attachment to
Peter pulling me away from my place.  I felt like I was being sucked into a
vortex, but was powerless to stop it.

I
was surprised, to say the least, when
Peter pulled into the parking garage of a large teaching hospital.  He hadn’t
told me where we were going on our date, just that I should dress comfortably. 
He smiled at my weary look.  I hate hospitals.  Hate them with a passion.  Sure,
a hospital had kept me alive when I was injured, but that just meant that I had
a thorough knowledge of their inner workings.  I might visit one voluntarily if
I was dying.  Maybe.  Visit one when I wasn’t even sick? 
Na-uh, no way, no
how
.

Peter clearly saw this on my face.  “You asked me
once, what I do with my time.”  He gestured toward the main building.  “Well,
this is it.”

I gave him a deadpan look.  “What?  You can’t just
wrangle up your food the old fashioned way?”

He gave me
the look
.  Seeing that expression
on his face, I could see the power and superiority that truly coursed within
him.  It was horrifying.  “Come on, chicken,” he said firmly.  “Suck it up.”

I snorted and unbuckled my seat belt.  We made our
way into the hospital and Peter steered us toward a bored-looking older woman
behind a giant desk.  Apparently, he was a regular here.  The woman- Lisa according,
to her nametag- lit up when she saw him.  We obtained a pair of volunteer
badges and headed for the elevator.