CHAPTER 30
“HERE’S THE GOAL,” JASON SAID. “I’M GONNA LIFT YOUR ASS OUT of that wheelchair, and you’re gonna use the rails to move said ass all the way to the other end. And you’re going to put pressure on the goddamn prosthesis. Do you hear me? You’ve got to start putting weight on that side of your body.”
“I could file a complaint about the way you speak to me,” Gus said.
“Do it. And make sure you hand deliver it to Nurse Ratched.”
Gus cocked his head. “No thanks. I learned long ago, when I was still working, that if someone’s got you by the balls, you shouldn’t wiggle.”
Jason smiled. “Good decision. No more stalling.” He reached around Gus’s waist and grabbed the belt harness.
Gus put his hands on Jason’s shoulders, and in a coordinated fashion, Jason pulled and Gus engaged the weakened muscles on his good leg, trying hard not to put too much pressure on his gimp right hip or the strange prosthetic device that connected his stump to the floor.
Gus groaned as he made it to his feet. “Son of a bitch.”
“You okay?”
A quick nod and another grunt with gritted teeth. “It feels weird.”
“But good to stand up, right?”
Gus was breathing heavily. “Yeah. But it also hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“Grab the railings,” Jason said.
Gus did so, gripping his hands around two parallel bars that ran out ahead of him and ended after ten feet.
It could have been a football field. The rails would allow him to transfer as much of his body weight into his arms and shoulders as possible while he tried to walk for the first time since losing his leg.
The rest of his weight would go onto his good leg; and when he felt brave enough, he was supposed to swing his gimp right leg and prosthetic forward and see what he could handle.
The last time Jason got him onto the bars, Gus had given up without putting any weight onto his surgically altered leg.
“This far after surgery, you should be able to make it ten paces on the bars.”
“Haven’t made it one yet,” Gus said, out of breath.
“That’s ’cause you quit last time.”
“It hurts, you little shithead, that’s why I quit. And it feels weird to step on that goddamn peg leg.”
“You want to walk again, or get wheeled around for the rest of your life?”
“Walk.”
“Then get going. And scream all you want, it wakes this place up and makes people scared of me. I like it.”
Gus looked to the end of the bars. His weakened arms shook under the weight of his body.
“Jesus Christ. I used to be able to do thirty dips without a pause. Now I can barely keep myself upright.”
“Because you’ve been sitting on your ass for a month. Now move, Gus!”
He took a deep breath, lifted his gimp leg in front of him, and released a guttural groan as he took his first step in several weeks.
* * *
An hour later, Gus was resting uncomfortably in his hospital bed. It wasn’t technically a hospital, more like prison for the helpless and elderly, neither of which he considered himself.
“Here,” Jason said as he entered the room and handed him a thin case.
“What’s this?”
“My iPad.”
Gus lifted the flap and pressed the button to display the home screen.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Watch your show. The Girl of Sugar Beach. I downloaded every episode for you. You can binge watch over the Fourth. It’s a long weekend, so I won’t be around to torture you. This will keep you busy.”
Jason tapped the screen a few times until the promo appeared: a close-up of Grace Sebold’s face, with pale skin and gray-streaked hair, and the tagline You Only Know the Other Side of the Story.
“All you have to do is tap the screen and the episode plays. Tap it again to pause it. Go to the menu to find the next episode. Got it?”
Gus nodded. “Thanks. I owe you anything?”
“Keep working like you did today. That’s good enough for me.”
Jason typed for a moment on the keyboard near the foot of the bed, then closed Gus’s electronic chart.
“See you next week?”
“Is that a question?” Gus said. “Where the hell do you think I’m going?”
Jason nodded. “See you next week. Let the nurses get you up this weekend. You’ve got to start using the prosthetic. I’ll be back next Wednesday.”
“Hope the pain is gone by then.”
“Me too,” Jason said. “But fear not, we’ll find it again. Have a good Fourth of July.”
Gus pointed to the window. “Good view of the fireworks from here?”
Jason offered a crooked smile. “Doubtful.”
“Oh, well, there’s always next year. Maybe I’ll be up and around by then.”
“Shit. I’ll have you up and around next week. You’ll be dancing by Labor Day.”
When Jason was gone, Gus touched the screen. Eerie music filled his hospital room as the introduction to the documentary started.
“I’m Sidney Ryan,” the narrator told him. “And this is The Girl of Sugar Beach.”