CHAPTER 18 THE DENIAL TWIST
THE DENIAL TWIST
Phoenix
An unexpected thing happened when Phoenix’s phone buzzed. His heart ramped up with the thrill of seeing a text from Orchid.
“Hey Phoenix, I’m in baggage claim. Are you meeting me, or am I walking home?”
One side of his mouth quirked up, maybe for the first time in weeks.
Then he shook his head, attempting to clear memories of Orchid’s heated stare, the tingle of her lips against his cheek, and her rose-tinged scent.
Orchid’s honeyed voice filled his mind. These six weeks of therapy had worked him physically harder than any sport he’d ever played, or any triathlon.
He’d fought to strengthen what remained of his muscles and learned how to manipulate prostheses.
During the lulls in therapy and exercise repetitions, he’d ruminated on solutions to an impossible problem.
The potential of their relationship, he realized, hinged on what he represented. They only made sense as a couple if he could be her protector and model of physical perfection, workout friend, dance partner, European travel guide.
At work, when he’d presented ads of injured soldiers, Orchid couldn’t even bring herself to look at the images—and those survivors had injuries less egregious than his.
He could find no way around the fact that he could not be who Orchid needed. There was no way she’d accept him.
He imagined her reaction to his wounds, flaps of muscle pulled taut over abrupt endings of bone, visible stitch lines.
She’d be repulsed. Maybe her kindness would obligate her to look the other way, and he’d selfishly gain comfort from her presence.
Then, even if she could get past the shock of seeing him so changed, how could he ask her to live this life?
How can I hold her back from travel and beaches and everyday normalcy?
Orchid, who loved cobblestoned Paris and dancing, wouldn’t love wheelchairs and canes.
Orchid, who couldn’t look at a cut on her own foot, wouldn’t be able to look at rows of stitches closing the blunt ends of limbs that made no sense.
Maybe she’d suppress her disgust, at least at first. She’d go along, following a path out of pity for which she’d find no escape.
He’d pondered for long minutes. The phone rang. He startled at the vibrating cold steel in his hand. He answered before he could decide what he’d say.
“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding surprisingly raspy.
“Hey yourself. How are you? Are you picking me up?” she got right to the point.
“Nope.”
“What, did you forget about me?”
“Not exactly,” he answered. Guilt washed over him. Protecting her was no longer in his capability. He thought of calling her a car service.
“Are you okay? You sound funny.”
Phoenix recovered, basking in the normalcy of her sweet voice, in contrast to the sympathy and unease which tinged the calls from his office and friends.
“Funny?” he asked, delaying the response to the real questions. “You know me, I’m always funny.”
“That you are. You would’ve found me funny in China. Like, trying to speak with taxi drivers was a hoot.”
“Yeah? How was your trip?”
He really wanted to know, and to hear her talking in her bubbly, happy voice before he broke the news. He could hear her heels clicking along the tile floors of the airport.
“Good. Crazy. I called for your advice. You didn’t call back,” she said.
“You did?”
“You didn’t get my messages?”
“Nope, I’ve been kind of out of touch.”
“Have you been busy? What have you been up to these last six weeks?”
He paused. “You’d run away screaming if I told you,” he said dryly, picturing Tish’s look of horror and Orchid’s amplified one from his dreams.
“Let me guess. Clients from hell? Creative teams pitching multiple accounts at once? Don’t tell me you lost that coveted elixir brand.”
“No, I’m happy to report we landed REBBL.”
“Wow, congrats, that’s a coup. I didn’t keep up on the news much from over there.”
“Yeah, we know how much you love watching the news,” he said.
“Very funny. So, I’m all screwed up on time and desperate for a shower, but we should make plans. To catch up.”
End of the idle chitchat.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” His throat tightened, giving away more in his tone than he intended. He heard her footsteps halt on the other end of the line.
“Orchid, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. What do you mean, you want to talk to me about that?”
He almost changed his mind. He didn’t want to do this. He thought about telling her the truth. The truth would end up damaging her more than his evasion of it.
“Orchid, I can’t be your mentor anymore.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Meaning?” Her tone sounded hopeful.
“Meaning that we shouldn’t work together. It’s probably better if we don’t see each other.”
“Why?” Her confusion pained him. Then, the pain of his wounds steeled him.
“I’m really sorry. It’s just not a good idea.”
“Um, you know, if it’s that silly thing I said at the airport, just ignore me. I hadn’t really slept the night before. I was rattling off some nonsense. Like now. When I’m tired, I’m a mess. Really, I’m not expecting any—”
He could hear the hyperventilation in her machine-gunned words. He cut her off.
“It’s not you. It’s me. I really don’t have time for anything extra. I’m all tied up with the agency and everything.”
“Well, if you’re going through a busy period, we could just catch up afterwards. You know, figure out our next project to work on?”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Better just make a clean break.” His voice stumbled at the unexpected image of clean breaks where limbs had been.
“Well, I don’t see what the big deal is. Like I said, it’s just work.”
He wavered, wanting to buy into her optimism.
He pictured what she pictured. The two of them, bent over drawings, pointing at one headline or another, debating each other in his agency’s board room.
That was the old him. I’ve been hurt, he thought of saying now.
You’re not going to like this. Instead, he spoke different words, imparting gentleness in his tone.
“It’s not you. You’ve been great. But best not to call anymore, okay?”
He could hear her suck air. “I should just block you from my phone.”
He nodded. It had worked. “You should.”
She was gone, the phone dead against his palm. In a prison where he couldn’t control basic mobility, he could protect Orchid. Dreams—of a dark-haired beauty, traversing the Andes, or cradling his own child—scattered like dust.
Goodbye, Orchid.