CHAPTER 27 SALUTE YOUR SOLUTION
SALUTE YOUR SOLUTION
Phoenix
Something was up. “Why are you pacing, Mom?” Phoenix asked, watching her wander around the ten-by-fifteen room he called home during rehab. She opened and shut drawers and doors, looking but not finding anything.
“You sure you don’t want to bring your arm?” She waved a peach-hued and metal prosthesis, then peered into the bag she’d packed with clothes and toiletries.
“You won’t tell me where I’m going, so how am I supposed to know if I’ll need an arm?” he goaded, not expecting an answer.
“You want me to come with you?” She rearranged the items, seeking a way to make them more easily accessible for a one-handed guy.
“You won’t tell me where I’m going, so how do I know if I’ll need you, Mom?”
Caleb burst through the door. “Where we’re going Mom’s not needed,” he said, then strode over to kiss their mother.
“You trained that soldier well,” Phoenix joked with his brother. “I couldn’t get even a hint out of her, much less a state secret.”
“You’re closer than you think,” Caleb said, grabbing his twin’s suitcase and cane.
“Hey, I can take that,” Phoenix complained, gesturing towards the bag.
“No way.” Caleb stalked to the door, yanking it open without a backwards glance. “Bye, Mom.”
Face lined with fatigue, Veronica leaned over Phoenix’s chair and wrapped both arms around him. “Have fun.”
“You do the same. You deserve a rest.”
Caleb poked his head back in through the doorway.
“It’s just a weekend.”
His mom let go, and he wheeled through the open door to follow his brother.
Out on the street, Caleb’s red pickup sat idling.
“You really weren’t expecting to stay long, were you?” Phoenix said. He rolled up to the side of the extended cab and pulled open the passenger door.
“You need a hand?” Caleb asked, looking up from the driver’s side, where he’d slid the suitcase into the tiny back seat, next to an oversized duffel bag.
“Literally, yes. But with getting into the car? No.”
Phoenix stood, pivoted and sat on the leather bench seat, pulling his legs after him. He grabbed the cushion off the wheelchair and yanked the fabric handle straight up, folding the chair so that it would lie flat.
Caleb came around to heft the chair into the bed of the truck, securing it to the ridged surface. He plopped into the driver’s seat and aimed the vehicle out of the city.
They sped down the highway with heavy metal pulsing from the speakers, amiable in their silence for miles along the turnpike.
“Heading south, I see,” Phoenix observed from the highway signs.
“You sure are curious,” Caleb said, his face splitting into a rare grin.
Phoenix smiled too. Beyond the mystery of their trip, trees radiated early fall glory against pale blue skies. An enormous maple tree bore orange-tipped leaves so warm he could taste the sun-kissed colors. A scarlet-tinged oak stood oblivious to the speeding cars.
Caleb tapped the bottom of the steering wheel with one hand, in syncopation with the percussive music.
Phoenix stretched, relaxing into the firm seat. “Bet you’re taking me wherever the unwanted get abandoned.”
“That shit isn’t going to work with me,” Caleb said.
“Good point. Save the pity card for Mom,” Phoenix countered, unperturbed. “With you, let me guess . . . pole dancing.”
“Hah, we could do that. Although I don’t know why we’d go to DC for strippers when we could just stay in New York.”
“Washington, as I suspected,” Phoenix said, proud of himself.
Caleb frowned over the unintended reveal, and merged the truck onto Interstate 95. “Technically, we’re going to Maryland.”
The sun shone directly overhead. They rode in silence for miles of highway, falling into the easy rhythm of the speeding traffic.
Phoenix’s thoughts wandered. He sometimes wondered what his father would say about his accident.
Dad had always tried to justify circumstances.
How would he find justice in this situation?
The masterful son for whom he had high expectations was now rendered powerless.
The rambunctious son over whom he and Mom had fretted through countless nights was now in charge.
Dad wouldn’t be focused on the flip of power.
More likely, he’d be the only one to see clearly how much this accident had taken away. He’d see my position.
Dad excelled at divining intentions. He’d understand that the nurses and therapists had an inherent motivation to exude optimism. That was their job, to get him up and functioning. They couldn’t afford to let him give up. Their job was to make him try, even when he resisted.
Dad would see through his sarcastic shield.
He’d know that snug against his son’s sharpness was a world of hurt and disbelief.
He’d know that if Phoenix’s shield of toughness slipped, he’d feel the full weight of his pain.
He would not be able to survive. He’d howl until the force of the sound exploded through his body, blowing him up into more bits than the train had.
He pictured that look on Dad’s face when tragedy couldn’t be justified. His dad would be devastated over his son’s wasted potential.
“You know, I was thinking about Dad,” Phoenix said.
“God, I miss him,” Caleb responded, as if feeling the same sentiments as his twin. They were south of Baltimore and crossed over tributaries of the Chesapeake Bay.
Phoenix shook away the lingering image of his father’s disappointment. He stared out the window, his thoughts turning to the other devastated parent.
“How do you think Mom’s holding up?” he asked.
“She’s strong. She’s doing okay,” Caleb replied.
“I think she misses her friends.”
This had been on his mind for weeks. Mom had little to do, so she was generating activity where none was needed, folding and unfolding his clothes, organizing his things, and who knew what her productivity had done to his apartment over these months.
Phoenix was working on convincing her to head home once he’d been discharged to outpatient rehab.
“You’ve got to let go of that Catholic guilt. I think she’s where she wants to be. Her Bunco group can wait.”
“I’m going to encourage her to go back home soon.”
“After your incident in the bathroom? Good luck with that.”
“That’s ancient history,” Phoenix grumbled, but honestly, there were still days where not existing seemed preferable to his daily struggles.
They finally exited the interstate to a wide avenue that cut through neighborhoods in the suburbs of Bethesda. “You hungry?” Caleb asked, looking around as they slowed from highway velocity to city speed limits.
“Nope. You?”
“No, but Mom made me promise we’d eat regular meals.”
“If you don’t tell, I won’t tell.”
Caleb slowed through the secondary roads, checking his phone’s map for directions.
“Want me to navigate?” Phoenix offered, holding out his hand.
“No need. We’re here.” Caleb turned into a long drive leading to a complex of white buildings. He headed for a massive guard shack manned by men built like oaks.
“IDs?” asked the first military policeman, and checked his clipboard. Another MP craned a neck thick with muscles to assess the contents of the truck bed, then bent with a flashlight to check the underside of the vehicle.
“Walter Reed National Military Medical Center,” Phoenix read the overhead sign aloud. “Like they need more wounded?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Caleb pulled past the guard shack, following directions to parking. “Open the glove compartment, would you?”
Phoenix pushed the button and peered into a jumble of envelopes, a flashlight and a box of bandages.
Caleb reached in and grabbed a blue and white tag off the top of the pile.
“Great, you’re taking me along because you want better parking?”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Caleb shook his head. He looped the laminated permit onto his rearview mirror. Phoenix couldn’t identify with the wheelchair stick figure that was supposed to represent someone like him.
They followed a curved path to the car garage. Caleb pulled into an accessible space with a matching blue and white logo.
His brother jumped out and messed around the back of the truck for what seemed like forever.
As Phoenix waited, he recalled stories of this place from his military client.
Impatient, he finally turned, grabbed his cane and pushed himself out of the car.
Leaning against the door, he nudged it shut.
As the heavy panel thunked closed, Caleb looked up.
He was having trouble untying the wheelchair.
“I just need another minute.”
“Never mind. Nadine says it’s too early for me to be up and around on my own, but if you don’t tell, I won’t. Let’s go in.”
Caleb nodded, catching up with his twin. “MAT-C,” he said, gesturing to the building ahead of them.
“Military Advanced Training Center.” Phoenix remembered the acronym from his client. “This place is famous. It’s one of the best amputee rehab centers in the country,” he said, falling behind his brother’s pace. Every divot and crack in the pavement required his concentration.
Caleb pulled on the metal handle of the door and held it open for Phoenix to hobble through.
The place smelled like a mix of sweat and disinfectant. There was a hum of activity in the corridor that stretched before them.
Caleb shrugged off his leather jacket to reveal a Harley T-shirt and muscular arms.
A woman approached them, swooping in on feet that seemed to glide. Dressed in beige scrubs and white tennis shoes, she reminded him of an amped up version of one of his therapists. She looked like she could bench press an Army jeep.
“Caleb Walker?” she boomed. She didn’t shirk from the tough handshake his brother offered her. “I thought that was you driving up.”
“Don’t they call from the guard shack?” Caleb asked,
“Smart man. You’ve got our security figured out.”