Nineteen
Alex broke down when she heard the news.
With aggressive rehabilitation, Pearson said my strength and mobility could improve after four months.
I stopped listening after the devil doctor mentioned inpatient rehabilitation.
As soon as I was able, I discharged myself from the gothic prison that most people call a hospital.
Alex cursed, and cried, and begged me to reconsider, but inpatient rehab was only the beginning of a long, excruciating, expensive journey that could possibly result in absolutely nothing.
There were only two Get Well Soon cards, and one bouquet of flowers that we took home from the hospital.
The flowers, a gift from every guy at Phoenix, are already dead.
One Hallmark sentiment was signed by my cousin Pat “And Family”, and the other card was from the manager at Zenith Arena.
When I finally deciphered his messy scrawl, I laughed sardonically at the words: You should see the other guy.
The phone rang off the hook when I first got home.
After that, my dear, extended family either figured they’d done their duty, or I was a lost cause and there was no point in calling.
Ma’s been sick with a cold and refuses to visit until she feels better, as if I have pneumonia instead of paraplegia – the technical term for the paralysis to my lower body.
It was Cable who insisted on buying my manual wheelchair.
He didn’t deliver it himself. According to Nick, he hasn’t left his house since the fight.
Nick hired a bar manager so that he could lend a hand, or his legs, more accurately.
He built a ramp so that I could access the house while on wheels and made the necessary renovations such as installing bars in the bathroom.
He even made changes like moving all the dishes to the lower cabinets, but showing up here was also his excuse to try and convince me to get my ass to the hospital and to do it for Alex.
I told him to get the fuck out of my house.
Alex is, was, my reason for living. I find it amusing that our relationship started under the guise of being roommates, and now that’s exactly how we’re behaving.
We don’t eat together, sleep together, and barely communicate.
Without help and a custom bed, transferring to a sleeping position is nearly impossible and I choose to sleep in my chair.
Alex is no longer interested in eating, since her lips are constantly wrapped around a wine glass, and while she does take care of me, we don’t talk like lovers do.
I fucking miss her like crazy, I miss us, but I can’t admit it to her. All I do is live inside my head.
“Why do you take so many showers?”
“They help me relax.” She was dressed, but she was still wearing a towel on her head. “Did you take your meds? I forgot to remind you before I left.”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I got you a new sports drink. If you like it, I’ll buy more.”
I’ve already mourned the fact that my career is over, yet her innocent statement stung. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“What do you mean?”
“A sports drink? Sports!?” I saw her not as the love of my life, but as the proverbial punching bag.
“Pip, I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. I don’t want to hear the word ‘sport’ spoken in this house. Do you understand now?”
“I... yes.”
I thought she’d storm out of the room. Instead, she came and kneeled by my wheelchair.
I wanted to apologize, and hold her, and kiss her, but my broken body, and my shattered mind, wouldn’t allow me to.
I waited for her to say something, but she resided in the land of the living and spoke a different language.
Forcefully, I removed her hand that she had placed on my knee.
“Whoever it is, I don’t want to see them,” I said in response to a knock on the door.
Alex stood, making me curse the impersonal steel and rubber of my chair. “I didn’t deserve that. If you don’t love me anymore...”
“You know I love you,” I said with too much anger. “I wouldn’t know how to stop loving you.” I may be crippled, but I’m not stupid. Never would I want her to think my love for her has died. “I... I can’t do this...”
“Yes, you can, love. We will do this together.” The knocking grew incessant. “I’ll see who it is.”
I didn’t recognize the man who walked into the room. His posture was stooped, his frame was skeletal, and he used a cane.
“Hello, son. Can’t stay long. I only drive during daytime.”
“I’ll be out front mowing the lawn. I have your cell phone if you need anything,” Alex said, leaving us alone.
When part of your body dies, everything changes.
Normally I would have asked him if he wanted a coffee, or water, but being a proper host was beyond my capabilities.
Cable gingerly sat on the couch and placed his cane next to him.
I pivoted my chair to face him. “When did you start using that thing?”
“Always needed it. Too stubborn until now. I guess it’s pointless to ask how you’re feelin’.”
“Thanks for the wheelchair,” I said, changing the subject.
“It’s the least I could do, son.”
“Son? What happened to ‘kid?’’
“You know you’re like a son to me, kid. And I... I failed you.”
During all the dark hours I’ve spent thinking, I never once blamed Cable. The monster wasn’t in the room, because monsters aren’t remorseful. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve only put you in the ring with a professional.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“An established fighter.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve done my research.”
“It’s. Not. Your. Fault!”
“It is!”
We listened to the low-pitched rumble of the lawnmower that mimicked Cable’s growl. I almost whispered, “I could have said no.”
When I made the decision to become a boxer, ma was furious.
She wanted me to do something with my life that was respectable, even if it was a blue-collar job.
After many heated discussions, she finally admitted to me that she was worried that I would risk getting injured, or worse. My mother had a third eye.
“But I knew you wouldn’t say no. I don’t talk about him, but I had an older brother named Phillip. It’s the reason I chose to train you,” he said, chuckling.
“It wasn’t because you saw potential in me?”
“Nah. That came later.”
“What happened to him?”
“I told you about my mother?”
“Yes. She was a high-wire artist.”
“That’s right. I come from a family of daredevils. Phil was a wild one. As kids, when we weren’t getting ourselves into trouble, we were out explorin’.”
I couldn’t imagine Cable as a child. It’s as if he was born old. “How old were you?”
“Oh, let’s see. Phil was the oldest of seven, and three years my senior.
I must’ve been around six. Anyway, he was walking the tracks one day, just to see where he’d end up.
I was walking sort of beside him in the grass, throwing a ball to our dog, and goofing around with a couple of boys who lived on the farm next to ours. ”
Cable’s eyes were cloudy from age. The bluish-white film over his pupils was more prominent than I remember. “You lived on a farm?”
“Yep. Those were the good ol’ days. My pappy even had horses.
Now, what was his name?” Cable paused as if expecting me to know the answer.
“I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. One boy from our gang challenged Phil to walk the rail, arms outstretched, one foot in front of the other.
Said he’d give him his penny candy if he could do it the rest of the way. ”
As he continued his story, I could see Cable’s hands were shaking. His age spots blended like a redhead’s freckles. “You okay, old man?”
“Old, but not okay,” he said, pressing his hands over his ears.
“My pup was barking like it was rabid. My brother could hear the whistle. We all could. It’s a train whistle for Christ’s sake.
But Phil’s sole purpose in life was to tempt fate.
It wasn’t about winning candy anymore. It was about playing chicken with that locomotive. ”
I didn’t have to hear the end of the story to know that the name Phillip is cursed. “He lost the game.”
“That’s right. I witnessed the impact. I loved him. I looked up to him, but he was a dumb bastard.”
The horror that Cable was forced to relive was unjust, because I could tell that he had spent his entire life trying to erase the ghastly image from his memory. “Life is cruel.”
“It is, son. But that’s not why I’m telling you this. I tried to warn you that impact was coming, the same way I tried to warn Phil. I failed you. I failed both of you.”
Alex came in, wiping the sweat from her brow. “The humidity today is off the charts. Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go to the bedroom while you finish your visit.”
“No. We’re done.” Cable stood unsteadily and picked up his cane. “I said what I came to say. But remember one thing, son,” he said, tapping the cane across his shin. “My brother had legs and he still didn’t use them to get to safety.”
Alex walked him out. I heard Cable tell her to call him if we needed anything.
His admission of guilt was like a final confession, and he was seeking forgiveness from me.
If I had legs, I’d run after him and tell him that there was nothing to forgive, because just like his brother had with the train, I played chicken with Scarpetta.