Authors: Desmond Haas
“What do you think of him?” Judith asked.
“I do fancy him. I find him comfortable to be with. I’m used to chaps that good looking to be full of themselves. All mouth and no drawers, if you know what I mean. I did tell him I had broken up with my boyfriend before I came here, and I believe he’s being extra careful not to get in the way of my healing. I find it so sweet.”
“Do you have plans to see him this week?” I asked, sipping Judith’s strong, black coffee.
“Yes, he asked me out for Friday night,” she offered between bites of toast and jam. “He’s off on Saturday, and we can spend more time together then too.”
“Are you getting serious with him?” Judith wanted to know.
“I really don’t know enough about him yet to know that. While I do fancy him and enjoy his company, I’ll eventually have to go back to England. I don’t want to lead him on, thinking we can be an item, but at the same time, yes, I do like him.”
Changing the subject, Linda asked, “Is Sam any better with you? I don’t like his attitude with us, but I can’t stand it when he treats you the way he does.”
“No real change.” I folded my napkin and placed it next to the half-eaten meal. “I’m trying to ignore it and not let him know it bothers me.”
“It does bother you, doesn’t it?” Judith asked.
“It does. There are times when I’m lying on the couch at night that I’ve cried myself to sleep. But by morning, I’m able to pull myself together again.”
“How have you put up with it for so long?” Linda asked.
“One day at a time. One foot in front of the other.”
“Speaking of feet, have you put yours down and asked him why he treats you the way he does?” Linda asked.
“I did a few times, but then he withdraws and doesn’t talk at all.”
“Do you mind if I go wake Sam?” Linda asked. “I want to have a one-on-one with him. We’ve not been able to talk since I got here.”
“Sure,” I said. “Be my guest. Maybe you can get a rise out of him. Whatever I’m doing isn’t working.”
I looked at Judith and held my breath. We both leaned toward the door, eager to hear.
“Why didn’t you ring the bell? We would have come in if we’d known you’re awake,” Linda said.
“I’m doing okay,” Sam grumbled.
“No, you’re really not. You’ve been a horse’s arse, shoving away all of us who love you. You’re a miserable bastard, and if they won’t confront you, I will. Remember, I was there when you told Marisa you loved her. Were you telling the truth?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I love her, and I love you, and because of all I’ve seen and heard. So, tell me, do you love her?”
“Look at me,” Sam said, raising his voice. “I can’t move without help. I can’t feel anything from my waist down, and my face was half burnt off. What the fuck does she want with someone like me who can’t even get it up?!”
Linda ripped the sheets from the bed, reached into his pajamas and under the diaper, grabbing his flaccid penis. “Is this you?” She asked, also raising her voice to match his in tone and volume. “If you want to define yourself by your cock, go right ahead. That makes the rest of you a prick!
“If you think for one minute that woman flew all the way over here just to get laid, you don’t know her as well as I thought you did. She didn’t fall in love with any part of your anatomy. She fell in love with you.”
Linda pulled the sheet back up, covering him, then pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. She put her hand on Sam’s arm and let out a deep breath.
“Do you love her?” Linda asked quietly and tilted her head up to see Sam’s eyes. “Do you love her?” she asked again.
Sam looked at Linda and, with tears welling up, he said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then why in bloody hell are you not thinking of her, but only yourself?”
“I was only trying to prevent her from being hurt, because I can’t do the things I used to.”
“I know that. Did you know she quit her job, put all of her things in storage, closed her flat, and said that no matter what you say or do, she’s not leaving you? Let me tell you something, I’ve known her since we were wee ones, and when that woman digs her heels in, nothing will change her mind. You’re in for a rough ride, Sam. She won’t give up. So, if you want to be a miserable old fart wasting away someday in an institution, that’s your business. If she ever chooses to throw up her hands and admit defeat, that’s where you’ll be. Is that what you want? But if that woman gets her way, you don’t have a bloody chance in hell. Okay?”
“She doesn’t need to spend her life caring for an invalid, like me,” Sam said.
“Marisa can no more walk away from you than she can stop breathing. She loves you, and if you force her to leave, it would kill her. Do you want to hurt her like that? Let me ask you this: if the situation was reversed and she were lying here, what would you do? Would you walk away and leave her because she’s like you are?
“I don’t know what to do.”
“To start with, you can be not so bloody moody and treat her with respect. She caters to you day and night and never complains. Judith and I haven’t heard a mumble, much less a full-blown rant. You, on the other hand, are distant all the time. Do you know she sleeps on the couch, right outside this room, so she can hear you if you call? She’s a bloody saint, that one is. And, because you treat her the way you do, she cries herself to sleep. She’s here for you, Sam.”
“I…I don’t know how to fix it,” he said.
“If I were you, I’d ask her for a hug and take it from there. You can do that, can’t you?
“I guess.”
“You have to start facing the future, Sam. If you’re going to be in that wheelchair the rest of your life, you won’t find a better person by your side than her. Do you want me to send her in now?”
“Please and Linda, when I get done apologizing to Marisa, will you come back and give me a hug, please?”
“Why wait,” she said, standing up, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Sam, she loves you very much. While you’re at it, you need to have a talk with your mother. She’s been wonderful through all of this too.”
* * * *
I looked towards Linda as she came back, waiting to hear what she had to say.
“He wants to see you,” Linda said.
“We heard some of it. Is everything okay?” Judith asked.
“It could be, if he gets off his arse and does something,” Linda said, then put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oops. He can’t get off his arse, can he?”
I hugged Linda, walked into Sam’s room, and shut the door behind me.
“Would you help me dress, please and then…” Sam said.
“Shhhh,” I hissed, putting a finger over my lips. “There is nothing to say. Every minute is sacred, and the past is gone. I regret nothing. Neither should you.”
As I changed his clothes, Sam asked, “Doesn’t this bother you? Having to dress me?”
“No. Not a bit.”
“Why not? Why would you want to have to do this for the rest of my life?
“It has nothing to do with ‘want’ and everything to do with love.”
“That I don’t understand,” Sam said.
“It’s not really difficult. Let me ask you something. Do you love me?
“Linda asked me the same thing.”
“Don’t evade the question and just give me an answer. Do you love me?
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “What would you do to help me, if I needed help?”
“Anything.”
“Good. Now you’ve answered your own question. There, all clean again. While I’m here, I’ll check your catheter and change the container.”
“I don’t feel anything down there.”
“I know you don’t, but someday you may.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Are you asking me if I’ll still be here if you can’t get a hard-on?”
“It embarrasses me that I can’t, but in a way, yeah. We both love sex. It was a big part of our life in London together. Won’t you miss sex?”
“I miss making love more. Your catheter is okay. Sam, it’s the same question in a different form. Will I stay with you if you can’t fuck me? Is that what you’re asking?”
“I’m just trying to understand. One minute I was driving, trying to get to a store before it closed and the next, I wake up in a hospital—like this.”
“What’s your point? What’s different about the Sam before the accident and the one after? There is no difference. By the way…” I said, the words trailing off as I moved towards the head of the bed.
“What?”
“I was wrong and need to apologize to you. I have never told you how much I love you. I didn’t tell you before you left or when we were talking on the telephone because I worried we wouldn’t ever be together again. I was so worried about the future, I forgot about the present. Sam, I love you. I love you more than I can express. As I may have told you before, I’m here with you forever, no matter what you say or do. So you better get used to me.”
“I love you too.” Sam said. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”
My eyes burned when he asked me to be with him. I waited so long to hear him want me close again. “Yes. Will you hold me for a little while now?” I asked as I climbed on the bed and put my head on his chest and closed my eyes, his skin against mine, hearing his breathing, succumbing to his hand rubbing my back. Tears fell down my cheek and dropped onto his chest. I hugged him, trying to get closer.
Living with Yourself
Since my stay in the US was limited to ninety days as a tourist, Judith contacted Martin Hogan, her attorney, to apply for a green card, allowing me to stay as a permanent resident. Mr. Hogan said the card is good for a limited time period, normally ten years, and that would give us the time we needed to be with each other and decide our future. I didn’t want to be forced into leaving Sam because of the immigration laws, so getting a green card meant I could consider the US home.
All of us had a ‘family’ meeting and discussed the possibility of Sam and I getting our own place. I wanted to make a home with him and get in a regular routine. One of the problems, however, was income to support ourselves, not only for living expenses, but also Sam’s medical needs.
The driver of the truck hitting Sam’s auto admitted culpability to knowing a defect in the steering. As such, Judith’s attorney, Martin, filed a lawsuit through the court against the driver, the company owning the vehicle, and the manufacturer. While that wound its way through the American court system, Sam and I worked on developing our relationship. His disability affected his self-esteem, and he became depressed easily. There were days where he sounded bright and cheerful and others where he didn’t want to do anything.
Getting him to go out in public, to a restaurant, for instance, was a battle. He believed the facial scars made him ugly, and he even turned his head from me from time to time. He also disliked people accommodating him because of his wheelchair.
One day, while I was bathing him, he asked, “Do the scars on my face bother you?”
“I really don’t see them anymore. I admit, at first, I wasn’t able to see you without noticing them, but over time, it’s become part of you. The short answer is no, they don’t bother me as much as I am concerned they may bother you, and their sensitivity has to be uncomfortable.”
“I know what you mean. Initially, when I looked in the mirror, all I saw were the scars. Now, I don’t spend any real time examining them. Outside the house, though, I don’t like people staring at me,” Sam said.
“Why do you care what people think? I believe it was you who said you should make your own path and don’t worry about negativity. Sage advice. Maybe you should listen to yourself.
“By the way,” I continued, “Trent rented a van and the four of us are going on a picnic. I think we need to get out of the house. Wait, before you say anything, he has a spot picked out away from people.”
We found a lovely park, many miles outside of the city, where we could be alone. While Linda and I spread a few blankets, Trent collected Sam and rolled him to our site, lifted him from his chair and put him down with us.
We brought the coolers from the van, packed with a delicious selection of food from a local gourmet restaurant and plenty of beer and wine, both red and white. The original intent, to spend the afternoon with good friends and good food, was really Linda’s idea. When she came up with the idea, we called Trent, and he took care of the logistics.
Lunch was much better than we expected, each of us eating past our usual limits. After we put away the leftovers, we drank and started telling stories about our childhood and growing up in different parts of the world. I excused myself to go to the malodorous outhouse, and upon returning, saw how comfortable Linda was with Trent. They’d had numerous dates, but seeing her lean back against his chest, with his arms around her, gave me hope that maybe Trent could be the one for her.
Since the park closed at sundown, we continued the party at home. I took Sam to his bedroom to handle the normal maintenance duties and asked him if he noticed how relaxed Trent and Linda were.
“I’m glad you brought it up, because I wanted to speak to you about them,” he said.
“Is it something bad?” I asked.
Sam laughed and said, “Oh, no, it’s not bad at all.”