Brain Damage, page 22
part #2 of Prescription: Murder Series
I just look at him, unsure what to say. I’m not sure why he seems so irritated by my question. He seemed willing to talk about Karen in the past.
Finally, Jamie sighs. “We’re not getting back together. Not in this lifetime.”
Natalie comes over to us because it’s Jamie’s turn to walk. She helps him to his feet, but once he’s upright, she barely has to touch him. He only loses his balance once while walking to the other side of the gym. It’s a far cry from when he first got here, when it took her and Steve together just to keep him on his feet.
He’s made so much progress. He’s gotten so much better. Unlike me.
Jamie is at the other side of the room when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look behind me, and see that Clark is standing there. I don’t know what he’s doing here though, because he’s not supposed to come until after my group is over. He’s half an hour early.
“You’re early,” I say. I feel pleased. Usually, Clark is half an hour late.
“I’ve got to take off early today,” Clark explains. “Valerie said that we could start half an hour early.”
“But I’ve got my Walking Group,” I protest.
Clark shakes his head. “So what?”
“So I’m supposed to be walking.”
“Charlotte,” Clark says irritably, “we’ve already been through this. You’re not going to be walking at all when we get home, so this is all completely pointless. Why don’t we work on the important stuff?”
He’s right, of course. There’s really no point in having Natalie drag me across the room. But I like doing it.
“Can’t I just walk once?” I ask.
Clark shakes his head again. “Charlotte…”
I see that Jamie is approaching us, still walking with his cane. I look up at Clark pleadingly. “I’m next.”
For a moment, Jamie’s eyes meet mine. I know what he’s thinking. He’s heard every word that Clark has said to me, and that’s why he’s so angry. But he must understand that I don’t have a choice here. This is my only option.
“Fine,” Clark says. “One walk. But you’ve got to make it quick.”
What happens next happens so quickly that if I turned away for a minute, I would’ve missed it. Jamie is right next to his chair, but instead of sitting down, he lays the ball of his hand against Clark’s chest and shoves him. Hard. Hard enough that Clark stumbles backwards, trips on a mat, and falls to the floor. Right on his butt.
For a moment, Clark just sits there on the floor, looking completely stunned. I look over at Jamie, who has a small, satisfied smile on his lips. And I have to admit, I feel a little bit pleased myself.
That lasts all of ten seconds. It takes that long for Clark to scramble to his feet, looking beyond furious. I see his hands ball into fists.
“What the hell?” he yells at Jamie. “Did you just hit me? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Jamie just blinks innocently. “Sorry about that. I lost my balance.”
“Sorry?” Clark growls, his face turning purple. “You did that on purpose! That wasn’t an accident.”
Natalie steps between the two men, her arms outstretched to keep them separated before another punch could be thrown. “Please calm down, Mr. Douglas,” she says. “I’m certain that was an accident. Wasn’t it, Mr. Knox?”
“Of course,” Jamie says, his eyes darkening. “Why? Do you think you did something to my friend Charly that would make me want to hit you?”
Clark’s blue eyes widen and he finally gets it. “You need to mind your own business, asshole,” he snaps. “Or do you want me to rip you apart?”
Jamie doesn’t look worried, but maybe he should be. Before his accident, I’m certain that Jamie would’ve been a good match for Clark in a fight. Clark does work out, but Jamie is clearly in pretty good shape as well. But now that Jamie’s balance is off, Clark would definitely have the edge. I wouldn’t want to see them in a fight.
Luckily, Natalie intervenes. “Mr. Douglas,” she says tightly. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave this group. And if you make any more threats against my patients, I’m going to have Steve here escort you from the building.”
Clark looks like he has more to say, but he looks from Natalie to the hulking Steve, and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He looks down at me, and I’m certain he’s going to order me to leave with him, but then Natalie says, “I’ll bring Charly out to you as soon as she finishes her walk.”
“Fine,” Clark grumbles. He shoots Jamie one last dirty look before he storms out of the gym. Natalie rushes over to shut the door behind him.
With Clark gone, I figured Natalie was going to walk me. Instead, she comes back to where Jamie is sitting, and places her fists on her hips.
“Jamie,” she says in a stern voice. She’s a small woman but she’s really tough when she needs to be. “We all know you hit him on purpose.”
“He deserved it!” calls out a voice from my left. It sounds like Angela.
Jamie just shrugs. “He did deserve it.”
Natalie hesitates. I want her to tell everyone that my husband is a nice guy, and they shouldn’t give him a hard time. But she’s not going to say that. Because she doesn’t believe it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “You don’t hit people just because they make you angry.”
“Sometimes you do,” Jamie retorts.
Natalie raises her eyebrows at him. “Is that the sort of thing you would’ve done before?”
Jamie is quiet for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he finally replies. “I guess not.”
“I know you felt like you were standing up for Charly,” Natalie says, more gently this time. “But I don’t think she wanted you to do that. Did you, Charly?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I wish you hadn’t done that, Jamie.”
Jamie looks at me and his eyes are very sad. “Is that really true?”
“Yes,” I say.
It’s the truth, not just what Natalie wants me to say. I know Clark very well, and I know that Jamie has made him furious. Jamie doesn’t have to deal with him being furious though. I do.
“I’m sorry, Charly,” he says softly. “It’s just hard to see…”
“I know,” I say quickly, before he can complete his thought. “It’s okay.”
Jamie seems like he might have more to say, but Natalie cuts him off by getting me up for my walk. As she helps me across the small gym, I can’t help but wonder if this might be the last time I walk for the rest of my life.
Chapter 52
Five and a Half Months After
As I predicted, Clark won’t stop fuming about what happened in the gym today. Even as Valerie is teaching him how to bathe me, he is noticeably sulking. And he’s definitely angry with me. He practically scrubs the skin off my shoulders until Valerie tells him to be a little bit more gentle.
Even though Clark said when he first came in that he had somewhere to go, he sticks around after Valerie is done with her session. I can tell he wants to hash out the whole thing one more time. I wish he would leave, even though it would mean I’d have to go in the hallway in my wheelchair.
“So who was that guy anyway?” Clark asks me. “Is he, like, some good buddy of yours?”
“No,” I reply quickly. “I hardly know him.”
Clark narrows his eyes at me. “Didn’t he say that you were his friend?”
He’s my best friend here. Or at least, he used to be.
“I don’t know,” I say. “He’s got a brain injury. He doesn’t know who his friends are.”
“He didn’t look that bad,” Clark grumbles. He starts pacing across my room. “He hit me pretty hard. But I mean, I wouldn’t have fallen over if he didn’t catch me off-guard.”
“Of course not,” I say.
“Maybe I should pay him a visit,” Clark says, pausing mid-stride. “What did they say his name was? Knox?”
“I don’t remember,” I mumble. “Really, I barely know him.”
“I don’t want you talking to that guy anymore,” Clark says, folding his arms across his chest. “Okay, Charlotte?”
“Okay,” I reply. My voice sounds tiny.
“What?” Clark cups his hand over his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”
My cheeks burn. “I said okay!”
Clark nods his head in satisfaction. “Also,” he says, “there are some other things we need to talk about. This whole power of attorney thing is bullshit, Charlotte.”
For some reason, that sick feeling returns to my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Before this happened to you, you filled out all this paperwork to give your mother power of attorney,” he says. He’s started pacing again. “But I’m your husband. I’m taking care of you. I should be managing all our finances.”
I don’t say anything.
“Don’t you think so?” he asks. He stops pacing and stares at me.
“I guess so,” I say.
Clark nods. “I agree. I talked with Dr. Greenberg and he said that if a neuropsychologist can declare you at least competent to make a decision about this, we can get the paperwork switched over.”
“Okay,” I say.
That sick feeling stays in my stomach. I don’t want Clark to be in charge of my finances. I don’t want his girlfriend living in my house, sleeping in my bed. I don’t want any of this.
But more than that, I don’t want to be stuck in a nursing home for the rest of my life. So I guess I don’t have much of a choice.
_____
They never give me enough food. I just finished eating my dinner in the hallway, but I’m still hungry. I’m also really thirsty, because they forgot to give me a drink. How could they forget my drink? And there are no nurses around anywhere to help me. I see one nurse in the hallway, but she seems to be giving a patient his medications.
I guess I can wait. I’m not going to die of thirst or anything.
As I sit and stare down at my empty tray, I notice that a few patients are coming back from their last therapy of the day. Coming up at the rear of the group is Jamie, who is walking on his own with only his cane. Nobody is helping him or making sure he’s not about to fall.
Apparently, they’ve decided that Jamie’s balance is good enough for him to walk on his own. Which means he’ll probably be going home soon. I’m happy for him.
Jamie is about to walk past me, but then I see him hesitate. He stops in front of me. “Can I talk to you, Charly?” he asks.
I nod.
There’s a stool about a foot away from my wheelchair, and Jamie grabs it so that he can sit with me. It makes me think of how whenever Clark comes, he never sits down. He always just stands next to me, which makes me feel like I’m a child. Of course, Jamie probably needs to sit. His balance is better but still not perfect
“Charly,” he says in a low voice. “I just want to say that I’m really sorry about what happened this morning. I didn’t mean to make trouble for you. I just got angry because…”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Here’s the thing,” he says. He pauses for a minute, then he reaches over and I feel him take my right hand in his. His hand is warm, and I can feel the calluses that have been developing from using the cane. Warm hands, warm heart. His brown eyes meet mine. “I understand why you want to be with your husband. He has a lot more to offer you than I can.”
What?
“I mean,” Jamie continues, “I can’t help you much. I can barely help myself. So I get it. I get why you’d want to be with him instead of me.”
I feel like it’s almost hard to breathe. What is he saying to me? Is he saying that he wants to be with me? Why? Why would he? Why would anyone? Where is all this coming from?
“But you need to know,” he says in a voice that’s almost a whisper, “that I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
That is clearly not true. I’m not the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. I wouldn’t have been even before I got hurt. But actually, I don’t mind hearing it, especially from him. Especially with the way he’s looking at me.
I hear him take a deep breath. “And I don’t think you should be with any man who doesn’t realize that.”
I can’t stop staring into Jamie’s eyes. I want to tell him how much I’d like to be with him. I’d like to lean forward and kiss him. But if I tried to do it, I’d probably fall or do something else embarrassing. If I were normal, I could be with Jamie.
But if I were normal, I never would’ve known a guy like Jamie.
Jamie lets out a sigh and releases my hand slowly. “Anyway, that’s all I had to say.”
I just nod, still unable to completely catch my breath.
Jamie looks at me thoughtfully for a minute then he leans forward. My heart starts to pound and I’m certain he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he puts his hand on my tray of food, and spins it around. Suddenly, I see a lump of mashed potatoes, a dessert of angel food cake, and most wonderfully, a glass of water.
“Water!” I gasp. I reach for the cup of cool liquid and start to gulp it down. I don’t stop until the glass is nearly finished. “I was so thirsty! Thank you!”
Jamie smiles crookedly at me. “No problem.”
I watch him as he struggles to his feet, then limps down the hallway back to his room. I’m sure he’ll be going home soon, and then he’ll forget all about me. And I’m sure he’ll find some other girl who’s more beautiful than I am, especially since I’m not actually beautiful at all.
Chapter 53
Five and a Half Months After
The next morning, I see the eye doctor.
His name is Dr. Singh and he’s “the best,” or so I’ve been told. I saw him a few weeks ago about the problems I’m having seeing on my left side, and he suggested that a prism for my left eye might help me see better on the left. The prism will bend the light that comes from the left side and put it in my right visual field.
Unfortunately, I’ve been blessed with perfect vision, so there were no lenses to attach the prism to. Dr. Singh told me he’d come back after making me glasses.
Dr. Singh is a short, stout, dark-skinned man with a wide smile. He comes into my room holding up a leopard-spotted glasses case. “I’ve got your prisms for you, Mrs. McKenna,” he announces proudly.
“Wonderful,” I say. I wish I shared his enthusiasm.
Dr. Singh opens the case. Inside is a pair of giant tortoiseshell rimmed lenses. The left lens is covered in some sort of striped clear material. The glasses are probably the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.
“Try them on,” Dr. Singh urges me.
I bite back my distaste. So what if they’re ugly? Who cares what I look like anymore? Vanity is the least of my problems.
I pull the glasses out of the case with my right hand and slide them up my nose. I feel like a schoolmarm. I look up at Dr. Singh’s round face. I don’t notice any difference whatsoever.
“Well?” he asks me.
I shrug. “I’m not sure if they’re helping.”
I’m being nice. They’re not helping.
“Well, give them a try today,” Dr. Singh says. “They might help you functionally, even if you don’t notice a difference.”
I shrug again.
I mostly forget about the glasses until later in the morning, when I’m having a physical therapy session with Natalie. I’m sitting in my wheelchair, and she whips them out of her pocket.
“Those don’t help,” I tell her.
“Just give them a chance, Charly,” she says.
This time, she slides them onto my face herself. Nothing becomes any clearer with the lenses on. Just like everything else, the glasses are a big disappointment.
“Okay,” Natalie says. “Let’s work on wheeling down the hallway.”
“What about walking?” I ask.
“We’re not going to focus on that anymore,” Natalie says firmly. “I talked to your husband about it, and he definitely makes some good points. You’re mostly going to be using the wheelchair when you get home, so you need to be able to control it better. You don’t want to have to depend on someone else to wheel you around, do you?”
“No,” I say.
She’s right, of course. It’s bad enough that I can’t walk, but the fact that I can’t even push my own chair is even more of a liability. I don’t want to have to rely on Clark just to be able to get from the bedroom to the living room without bashing into ten things along the way.
And forget about wheeling around in public. That would be dangerous. If I tried to push myself down the sidewalk, I’d probably wheel right into traffic.
“Alright,” Natalie says. “Put your hands on the wheels and go down the hallway.”
I have to admit, I was a little bit skeptical about the glasses, but for the first time in all the times I’ve been doing this, I make it down the entire hallway without slamming into the wall on the left side. I’ve never ever managed to do that before. I feel ridiculously proud of myself.
“I did it!” I say.
Natalie is looking at me with a strange expression on her face.
“What?” I say, feeling suddenly nervous. “I thought I did a good job. I didn’t hit anything. Did I?”
Oh God, did I hit something and not even realize it? That would definitely be a step back.
“No,” Natalie says, “you didn’t hit anything.”
I just look at her.
“Charly,” she says. “Do you realize that you were using your left hand to help wheel the chair?”
I look down at the left wheel of my chair and I see a hand on it. My hand.
“I don’t usually do that?”
“Sometimes you’ll put it on the wheel for a second or two,” Natalie recalls. “But this time you had it on the wheel for the entire time. I’ve never seen you do that before.“
I bite my lip. “So that’s good… right?”
Natalie nods. “Really good.”
I touch the ugly glasses on my nose. “Do you think it’s the prism lenses?”
