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| Part 3 |
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| The night I found him along the side of the road, crumpled and broken in therain, now seemed like a long time ago, though less than ten days had passed.We had gone from being strangers, thrown together by circumstance, tolovers-- quarrelsome old married lovers even. By the time I finally got himto the hospital the night of his accident he was in shock. It had takennearly an hour in the heavy rain to get down out of the mountains and intotown. He had been alone in the woods and then along the road for what musthave been another hour or more before that. When I carried him into theemergency room, his broken ankle supported with the makeshift splint we hadconstructed from scraps of wood in the back of my pickup truck and my wetshirt, he was shaking, uncontrollably. I had run the heat full force in thetruck, but his skin was cold to the touch, and his teeth were chattering.He had talked at first almost non-stop, complaining about the pain, urgingme to drive faster. But then he had become quiet, and almost sleepy, and Ihad tried to rouse him by talking, joking, even poking at him as he restedon the bench seat next to me, his back against my shoulder, his broken legelevated on the seat, his bent foot in its awkward splint closest to thedoor. I knew very little about him, except that he was handsome, and hurt. He wasnot from Burlington, wasn't even living in Vermont as far as I could tell.That first night I knew only that he did have a car, with some of hisbelongings in it, that we left behind, parked at the trail-head where he hadparked it that morning. I knew he had left a backpack somewhere on themountain trail. I had asked him as we got close to Burlington if there wasanyone he wanted me to call, and he had said there wasn't. They took him quickly from me once we were inside the emergency room. Icouldn't tell the admitting nurse anything about him, except that I hadfound him along the road, and that he had said people called him Red. I hadbeen so focused on getting him to the hospital, so focused on his pain andhis injury, that I had thought very little about what to do once I gotthere. The fact that they took him from me so suddenly left me uncertainwhat to do next. I considered simply leaving. I had delivered him into thehands of the people who could help him, and there was nothing more for me todo. But I was unable, and unwilling, to walk out, and so I sat there in theemergency room, suddenly very drained, and waited, empty of any realthoughts except the images of Red that flooded my mind. After some periodof time had passed, and I couldn't have said for sure when we had arrived orhow long I had been sitting there, the admitting nurse came over to tell methat he had been taken to surgery, that his leg would have to be set withpins, and that he was to be admitted, and would be here in the hospital forat least 48 hours or so. She said that there was nothing more that I coulddo and that I should go home. I summoned the energy to leave the warm medicinal-smelling building with itsbright and antiseptic lights and move out into the night, to find my truckand go home. My sense of dislocation was acute. I had no memory of where Ihad left the truck, though the parking lot outside the emergency room wassmall and close-by. I was startled to see my truck sitting in the middle ofthe lot, with both doors still open. The truck was lodged crossways betweentwo spaces, the headlights glowing dimly, sadly, broadcasting softly throughmy muddled thick head the fact that my battery was now likely dead. Therain had stopped, and the late fall wind out of Canada was cold and sharp.I slammed the door on the passenger's side and went around to climb insideto try to turn the engine over. Red's shoe, his hiking boot with the lacespulled out, was sitting on the floor of the cab. I sat there, in the coldand dark, grinding the ignition in a futile attempt to make the dead truckgo. I felt as empty and lonely as I had felt in many years, and wasstartled out of my funk only by the shock of the warm wet tears running downmy cheeks. I got out of the truck and closed and locked the door, andwalked, down the hill, toward my apartment. It was only when I has halfwaydown the hill, under a streetlight, that I thought to look at my watch, andwas surprised to see that it was after two in the morning. "This is it, I'm afraid. It isn't much, but there are no stairs." I wasunlocking the door and trying to turn on the lights while I held the doorwide open, to give him room to maneuver through on his new crutches. Hemoved uncertainly, stopping just inside the doorway. I barely had room tostep inside behind him and shut the door behind me. "Let me get your coat." My mouth was suddenly dry. "Why don't you sit, andput your leg up. I'll get us something to eat." "I'm not hungry, really." He followed me from the entrance way into thesmall living room of my apartment. We managed to get his coat off, without knocking him over, and I got himsettled into the only armchair I owned, with his broken ankle resting on themismatched ottoman that was a remnant from my parent's old house inMichigan. "How do you feel?" "I'm all right. Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine." There was anawkward silence. I wasn't sure what should follow next. "Are you sure you're not hungry?" "No, really, I'm fine. I'm happy to be out of that hospital. I told you Ididn't want you to make a fuss. I don't want to be in the way. I can staysomewhere else if this is a problem." "Red, I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want you to stay here. I'm gladto have some company. I told you I didn't have much space, but I think youshould be able to get around in here pretty easily." "I just need a few days really, I think, to rest up, and then I can travel.I could probably fly down to Texas and stay with my parents for a while." "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. I told you that." "You're very kind." "I'm going to get something to eat for myself. Maybe you'll join me. Ihaven't eaten anything since breakfast." I had to leave the room, at leasttemporarily. Seeing him sitting there in my living room with a cast on hisleg and his foot propped up and his crutches leaning on the wall next to himwas too much for me. I was getting hard, and I wasn't about to embarrassmyself the first ten minutes we were in my apartment. I made some sandwiches and warmed some soup, and we both ate, sitting in theliving room, and we passed an awkward afternoon together, talking mostlyabout nothing at all. We made small talk about football, but it was prettyclear that neither of us was very interested in the conversation. Heshifted uneasily in his chair, lifting his broken ankle off the ottoman andthen setting it back down, gently. When he set his foot back down he wouldwiggle his toes, scrunching them down, and then stretching them to theirfull length. "You know I really need to use the restroom. If you could just point me inthe right direction..." He was pushing himself up out of the chair, andreaching for his crutches. "I'm sorry." I jumped up. "I should have showed you when we got here.It's just right down this hall. Let me put the light on for you." Ibounded down the hall, ahead of him. I put the fan on as well, to give himsome privacy. "I think you'll find everything you need," I saididiotically, holding the door open for him and then shutting it behind him. I was back in the kitchen, washing up the soup bowls, when I heard him fall."Shit!" I heard the crutches hit the tub, and then I heard the heavy thumpof his body falling against the tile floor. "Oh fuck," he moaned, clearlyin pain. My heart pounded against the wall of my chest. When I flung open the bathroom door he was lying on the floor, clutching hisbroken ankle to his chest, and rocking slowly back and forth. "Jesus," Isaid, frightened, "are you all right? Let me help you." "Don't touch me," he barked. "Just let me lie here. Please. Don't touchme." His fly was unzipped, and his penis was visible, exposed, between the teethof his open zipper. "What happened?" I picked up the crutches from behind him, and leaned them against the wallby the light switch. "I was taking a fucking leak and I fell down. I lost my balance and Ifucking fell down." The leg of his jeans was wet with urine."Red, let me help you get up off the floor. We have to get you up off thefloor." "I'll be all right. Jesus Christ give me a minute to lie here." He slowlylet go of his ankle, stretching his leg out and away from his chest, holdingthe plaster cast up in the air. "Oh Jesus does that hurt." He moved hishand self-consciously to his crotch. I turned my back. "I can't evenfucking take a leak." I helped him up off the floor, and into the bedroom. Easing him off myshoulder and out of my arms onto the edge of the bed, I had to fight anoverwhelming desire to kiss him. He swung his legs up onto the bed and layback against the pillow. "Here, let me get those wet jeans off of you," I stumbled. He offered hisleft foot, and I pulled his shoe off. He unsnapped his jeans and lifted hiships as I tugged his pants below his waist. He seemed resigned to furtherhumiliation. They had split the leg of these jeans at the hospital to getthem on over his cast. I didn't have another pair to offer him. "I havesome sweats we can probably get over your cast." "I think I'd just like to sleep for while, actually. I'm very tired. Maybejust give me a blanket. My jeans will dry." "Don't be ridiculous. I'll wash them. Let me get another pillow to putunder your ankle." "I think I need one of those pain pills they gave me, with the codeine.This really hurts. I hope I haven't fucked this up worse than it alreadywas." "I'm sure you just banged it and it hurts like hell." I was trying to bereassuring. "The doctor said it would be very sensitive until the bonesstart to knit. We can call down and see if we can get an appointment tohave someone look at it if you want." "No. I really think I want to sleep." I found him a blanket, and his pain pill and a glass of water. I pulled theblinds, and took his jeans with me as I left. I peaked in on him a fewminutes later and he was sound asleep. He was covered with the blanketexcept for his injured ankle. In the half-light I could see his toessticking up out of the white plaster casing. I pulled the door gently shut. |
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