Cautionary Tales (15 page)

“Kiss me, beloved.”

What could she do? She leaned carefully forward, keeping his hand in place, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Please.”

Oh. She kissed him again, this time directly on the mouth. The touch was electric, sending another thrill through her. This was Romance!

She finished and stood up straight again, his hand unchanged.

“Oh, Juliet! Marry me!”

“Romeo, I can't! I'm—not ready.”

“I'll wait.”

“But—” She was unable even to formulate a coherent protest. This was overwhelming.

“Please,” he begged. “It was only the love of you, Juliet, that kept me alive. Everything else is gone. Without you I'll die.”

He wasn't fooling. He could sink back into the coma, and on into death. What did he have to live for, except his dream love? How could she kill him by taking that away?

“Yes,” she whispered, shivering.

“Oh thank you! I know you don't really know me, Juliet. I'll make it up to you. I promise! Only stay with me in spirit. Visit me. With your help I know I can make something of myself.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But one thing. My folks—please, let's make it a secret. For now.”

“Secret,” he agreed.

“Thank you. I must go now, but I'll visit. I promise.” She leaned down and kissed him again. Then she lifted his hand from her breast, hooked her bra together, and tucked her blouse in.

“I love you,” he repeated as she left. “I know you can't say it back yet. I must court you, win you. I will!”

“Yes,” she agreed, and stepped out of the room.

The nurse and pastor looked up as she emerged. “He's awake,” she said simply. “But I'll need to visit again.”

“It will be arranged,” the nurse said.

Back in the car, she couldn't keep silent. “Did I do wrong?” she asked.

“I believe God sent you. You can not do wrong in God's eyes.”

“I agreed to marry him.”

He froze for an instant. “This complicates things.”

“Yes.”

“Yet early betrothal is not unknown in many cultures, provided consummation is delayed until the girl becomes of age.”

“Like, don't let him screw me until I'm twenty one?”

“I would not put it that crudely, but yes, that is the essence.”

“So it's okay to be secretly engaged?”

“This would seem to be God's will, if that's what sustains his will to live. I might point out that in the future much can change. He may lose interest as he mends, and you will be freed from any marital obligation.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. But it did suggest that her situation was not hopeless.

She visited Romeo again, courtesy of the pastor. She let him hold her breast while they talked. She learned that Romeo was a good student, interested in chemistry, but had not decided on his major specialty yet. “What do you think, Juliet? What should a cripple do?”

That was bothering him, and she understood why. What could she say? “I'm just a dumb girl. I can't tell you what to do.”

“You are my beloved.” He squeezed her breast. “You
can
tell me what to do.”

She searched for something positive that would not also be hopelessly ignorant. “You know, your legs—I guess you won't be running anymore. But even if you got to be a track star, your career would be over by the time you are, like, thirty. But if you're a great chemist, it won't be over until you retire.”

He nodded. “True. I could have wasted myself in a physical sport. Thank you for your insight. I appreciate it.”

He was not being sarcastic. He truly did value her input. That pleased her. The more she talked with him, the smarter she realized he was, and he was nice, too. In fact, she was starting to fall for him. Could she afford that?

On the third visit he picked up on her concern. “Something is bothering you, Juliet. Please, I hate to have you unhappy.”

“It's nothing.”

“Your incidental mood is my obsession. Please, tell me.”

When he said please, she couldn't deny him. “I'm falling for you, Romeo,” she blurted.

“Oh, Juliet! This is wonderful. How can you think of it as otherwise?”

“Because I'm not smart or talented or anything. You could do a lot better, and you won't have to wait years. I've got no business lo—falling for you.”

“You are my beloved. Can't you say the word?”

“Love,” she said. “I can't love you. I'd be a drag.”

“Never!” he said passionately. He drew on her breast, bringing her forward, and kissed her. “I want your love more than anything else in the world.”

She had to accept it. “Then I guess we really are betrothed.” That was Shakespearean language she had picked up from class discussion. She had never been allowed to have a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé, but this made it seem more acceptable.

“We really are,” he agreed.

Suddenly it overwhelmed her. She leaned down again and kissed him fiercely. “I love you!” she said, and kissed him once more. “I really, really, really do!”

“I am in heaven.”

“So am I.” For the moment. But could this really be real? She wasn't quite sure.

Romeo

Juliet was there for Romeo's first walk, after the casts were off, by his request. The nurses had dressed him and wheeled him out to the hall, where there was a sort of wraparound walker. He put his hands on the rails and heaved himself up.

And sat down again immediately with a wince of pain. “It hurts!”

“You have been off your feet for some time,” the nurse said reassuringly. “Surgery on both legs. You have lost muscle and cartilage, and have scar tissue. It is likely to be uncomfortable at first. Time and patience will gradually improve it.”

“But I want to walk now!” he protested.

“First you learn to stand. Without too much pain. Then you walk.”

He looked around. “Juliet can help me.”

The nurse shook her head. “You're substantially taller and heavier than she is. If she tried to support you, you would likely fall and take her down with you. You'd both get hurt. We can't permit that.”

“I want Juliet.”

The nurse's mouth turned grim. But before she could speak, Juliet did. “Let me talk with you alone, please.”

The nurse was puzzled, but obliged. They walked a few paces away. “Now what is this?” she asked sharply. “We've been remarkably tolerant about your presence and the way you interact with him, but this is serious therapy. You must not interfere.”

“Romeo—when he was in the accident, I was the one who got to him first. He was going into shock. I—I put his hand on my breast, and that kept him alert. He said he felt no pain. The distraction—it's like pain pills. Now maybe he could walk, if.”

“No way. I know how you distract him, and I have to admit he behaves better after your visits. But this is different. For one thing, he needs both hands on the rails, to support himself.”

“I will be his support on one side.”

“You actually believe this?” the nurse asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

The nurse considered. “Very well. We'll try it. Once. Show me that it works. If you fail, we'll hear no more of this. Understood?”

“Yes.”

They returned to Romeo. Juliet loosened her shirt and unsnapped her bra. She took Romeo's right hand, put it around her body, and on her right breast. She put her left arm around his body to help support him. “Ready?” she asked him.

“Ready. Three, two, one, heave!”

He heaved himself up, with her assistance and his left hand on the walker rail. He stood. “I feel no pain.”

The nurse's expression said she strongly doubted that, but she kept silent. She was giving it a fair chance.

But the walker was now in the way. He could not step properly into it with Juliet there.

Impatiently, he swung it away and stood without support, except for Juliet. “Now we walk,” he said.

“In step,” she agreed. “Carefully. I can steady you, but I can't hold you up if you fall.”

They stepped forward, carefully. Then again. Soon they were walking down the hall, his hand firmly on her breast. The nurse was surely watching, flabbergasted.

They turned, also carefully, and walked back. “No pain,” Romeo repeated.

“That's enough,” the nurse said. “You have made your point. You must rest now. Your legs are hurting even if you can't feel it. Tomorrow you will walk again, farther.”

“Our way,” he said.

“Your way,” she agreed grimly.

Next day the nurse wheeled Romeo to a separate hall that seemed to be closed off from general hospital traffic. “This is private,” she said to Romeo. “You will not be disturbed by anyone but me. Walk the length of the hall twice and stop. Even if you feel no pain now, your body is not yet recovered, and you do not want to damage it. Each day you will do more, until recovery is sufficient to allow you to check out of the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Juliet said.

The nurse glanced at her. “I believe in therapy that works. But I could get in trouble with the authorities if news of its detail leaked out. So I am not inquiring about the nature of your participation. You are merely his friend. Consider it moral support.”

“Thank you,” Juliet repeated. “I am good at keeping secrets.”

The nurse departed. “She's not a bad sort, once you get to know her,” Romeo said as they got into position. She had come to really appreciate it when he touched her, especially where it counted. It was as though power flowed from her to him, uniting them in this challenge, but also came back to her. As if her breast was a portal, intimately linking them. Maybe the effect was all in his mind, and hers, but it worked. If this was love, she liked it.

He took hold of her breast and stood. “I did hurt yesterday, after you left. They had to give me extra pills.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. It's proof of your magic. There truly is pain, but I don't feel it with you.”

“I'm an anesthetic,” she agreed wryly.

“More than physically. Even if I felt no physical pain, I would not care to live without you.”

She loved hearing that, but had to demur, at least slightly. She was the young one, but she had to practice maturity. “But you know I won't stay this way. I'll fill out, and no longer be the slip of a girl who first took your hand.” And maybe lose him. She hated the thought.

“You will always be that slip of a girl to me. My beloved. My angel.”

“I'll settle for Juliet.” She was pleased.

After two loops of the hall, she had to remind him. “That's the limit.”

“I don't want to let go of you.”

Maybe she could offer him something else. “Let's compromise. Sit in the wheelchair.”

He let go of her and sat. Then she stood close. She took his hand and put it on her rear, outside her jeans. “There's more of me, if you like.”

“Oh, Juliet, yes! Any part of you.”

“Make sure the nurse isn't looking.” She loosened her belt and dropped her jeans and panties, then put his hand on her bare buttock. Her heart was pounding with this new daring.

“Juliet! Juliet! I love you!”

“And I love you, Romeo.” How sweet it was to say it!

He drew her close and put his face against her bosom. He kissed her breast and squeezed her bottom. “Beloved!”

Sure it was a kind of sex. It felt like love to her.

Then, nervous about discovery, they separated. She reorganized herself, and he turned the wheelchair and started back. She couldn't overstay; the pastor would be waiting.

“I do not disparage young love,” the pastor said as he drove her back. “The passion of the young can be as intense and abiding as that of the mature. But it is important to honor the limits.”

“I've been naughty,” she confessed. “Does it show?”

“To a degree. You are flushed with excitement.”

“I—I let him hold my bare butt,” she said. “When I didn't have to. How bad is that?”

“Well into the danger zone. To you it may be an adventure. But he is a man. There is little natural limit on his desire. You must draw the line. In future keep your pants on, literally.”

“Yessir.” She was relieved that he didn't preach at her. His caution was surely well taken. Maybe he knew that his words could have only limited effect, in the face of the passion she had found. All the abstinence-only lectures in school and church didn't affect the behavior of teens. Everyone knew that.

“You may be in love with love. That can be treacherous.”

“I'm in love with Romeo. Maybe when he touches me he feels no pain. But his touch really turns me on.”

He glanced at her. “I fear for your near future. I do believe God is using you as His instrument. But if you can't be good, be careful. Extremely careful.”

“I'll try.” But she knew it would not be easy.

The following days and weeks saw excellent progression. “I have never seen a patient with his degree of injury recover so rapidly,” the nurse remarked. “Too bad we can't adapt this form of therapy to other cases.”

“I just talk to him,” Juliet said. “Apart from, you know. About his plans to return to college and major in chemistry and all. He has a good mind.” In contrast to hers. Indeed he was brilliant compared to her. He had a real intellectual future.

“But I would want none of it, without you,” he assured her during one of their therapy sessions.

“What, no coeds your age?” she asked. She smiled, but she feared it. She knew that many of those college girls were smart, shapely, and experienced. She was none of these things.

“I never cared much about girls, one way or another,” he said seriously. “Until I met you. Now I care only about you.”

Nevertheless, she braced herself for the time when he no longer needed her. Then he might discover the college girls. She would be heartbroken, but if God's plan was to use her only in the interim, she would have to accept it.