Eye of the Storm

  She turned and left me there, holding the terrible paper in my hands, wondering when I would stop hurting the people I loved.

  Fortunately for me, Austin surprised me. Maybe it was because he had called and Mrs. Bogart told him I couldn't eat a thing at dinner that he decided to come over again. After learning about Roy, just the thought of food made my stomach tighten like a fist. Finally. I had turned from the table and wheeled myself from the table. Mrs. Bogart's orders, threats and warnings falling away. At first I was going to just go to sleep, but my frustration and anger had built to a point of exploding. It was twilight and still quite warm outside. I went to the front door, opened it and wheeled myself out.

  "Where do you think you're going this time of the day, girl?" she demanded.

  "Just outside for a while. I want to be alone," I emphasized and shut the door on her. I rolled myself down the ramp and then turned and went over the driveway toward the lake. I stopped at the foot of the path and gazed down at the water and thought about Roy, locked up again in some military prison, almost as frustrated as I was because he was trapped. too.

  Of course. I should have realized he would have done something like that. I told myself. What was I thinking when I wrote that letter? Didn't I know him well enough to realize he would think only about getting to me, consider that more important than anything else? He always thought about me first and put me ahead of himself.

  I should have thought about him first and not been so anxious to let everyone know my tragedy. I was just looking for sympathy. It was my fault, all my fault. I hated what happened to me. I hated being in this chair. I wished it was years back and I was still living in the projects. We used to think it was so terrible, but we were better off. I'd trade a hundred big houses and a hundred fancy cars and all this money if I could get up and walk away.

  "Mama!" I screamed. "Look at what's happened to us and is still happening to us!"

  My voice traveled over the lake and echoed in the trees. I saw a crow lift off a dead branch and flee into the darkness.

  Good. I thought. Every living thing should flee from me. Even I should flee from myself

  My arms suddenly felt electric with new power. I gripped the wheels of my chair firmly and turned them, moving the chair forward, off the macadam and onto the gravel and dirt pathway that led toward the dock and the lake. The chair bounced and the wheels got caught in grooves, bringing me to a sudden stop. but I leaned back and pushed harder, lifting the chair up and out and onward again. Tears streamed down my face. My hands ached.

  Midway. I picked up momentum and no longer had to push. The chair rolled onward, but it hit a rock and spun. It slowly tilted. I tried to keep it level, but my weight shifted too quickly and I went over with it, barely having time to utter a single cry. I fell onto a soft, gassy area. The right wheel continued to spin. I wasn't completely out of the chair. but I was twisted.

  It seemed to take hours to move myself and get enough momentum out of my leg so I could get myself and the chair upright again. Finally. I did so and just sat there, breathing hard, sweating so much the strands of my hair stuck to my forehead.

  The sun had fallen behind the tree line. Darkness drew the shadows out of the surrounding woods. Stars appeared and the lake itself turned an inky dark blue and gray.

  I had only frightened myself with the spill. I wasn't scraped or bleeding, nor did I hit any part of my body hard, but there was some mud and dirt on my arms and my clothes. Once my breathing became regular again, I felt the same dark red ball of frustration and anger building inside me. I couldn't even do this right. The red ball swelled until it pressed on my heart and made it pound.

  What a mess I am, I thought. Where's that independence I was supposed to be developing? I'll always be a pathetic invalid, kept here on this earth just to make life miserable for someone else.

  I wheeled myself forward again, taking more care, holding the chair back from lunging in either direction too quickly. Darkness was closing in around me much more quickly than I had anticipated. I struggled to see exactly where I was going. Suddenly, I felt a horrible spasm of pain in my hip. It took the breath out of me and I had to release my grip on the wheels.

  Again the chair picked up momentum. I held onto the sides and closed my eyes and told myself to relax.

  I was heading right for the dock. The chair bounced hard and then hit the dock, wheeling me first to the right and then. after I leaned to the left, turned far too sharply and spilled me out, this time nearly knocking the wind out of me when I hit. However. I didn't realize how close I was to the edge. With what I was sure was a look of terror and surprise on my face. I went over and hit the water mostly with my back.

  In seconds. I was sinking. I waved my hands and arms frantically and brought myself back up. I gasped again and again., never getting enough oxygen.

  Wait. Rain, why are you fighting so hard? I heard a voice within me ask. Just let your arms fall to your sides and your weight and your dead limbs will draw you down to where you belong. I actually started to lower my arms when I heard the second splash and a moment later. felt Austin's strong arm around my waist. He elevated half my body out of the water and drove me toward the dock.

  "Easy," he cried. "I've got you."

  He lifted me out and placed me on the dock. I fell back, gasping with spasms. He was out of the water and beside me, holding my head against him.

  "Did you swallow any water? How you doing?"

  I felt my body start to relax and my breathing grew more regular.

  'No.' I finally said.

  "What the heck were you doing down here by yourself.? Just as I drove up I saw you hit the dock and I came running. Did you lose control of the chair? I wanted to take you swimming, but I didn't think you were this anxious," he kidded.

  I didn't reply. I was shivering now, even though it was still quite warm.

  "I've got to get you out of these wet clothes." he said.

  He scooped me into his arms and started up the pathway. My eyes closed. I could feel his strength, the power in his legs as he practically ran up the small incline toward the house. It seemed, just seconds before we were at the front door. The moment Mrs. Bogart saw us she gasped and cried out.

  "What happened to her?"

  "She fell in the lake. Let's get her out of these wet clothes and into a warm bath," he ordered.

  Mrs. Bogart charged ahead and he followed to my room. He set me down gently on the bed. She was already running the hot water. He pulled off my shoes and socks. My teeth chattered.

  "I'll take care of her," Mrs. Bogart said coming out of the bathroom. You better get yourself out of those wet clothes, too. There are some large towels and a bathrobe in the downstairs closet near the powder room. I'll throw your clothes in the dryer," she added.

  "Thanks," he said. He put his hand on my cheek. "You all right?"

  I nodded.

  "You feel any pain anywhere?"

  "No." I managed to whisper. Except in my heart. I wanted to say-- but I didn't have the strength.

  "As soon as you get warmed up, you'll feel better," he said, be right back. I'll go fetch the wheelchair. too."

  "Why'd you go and do something stupid like this?" Mrs. Bogart asked me as she pealed off my wet clothing. "After you were so sick, too. I knew I shouldn't have let you go outside yourself. I knew it. Now she'll blame me.

  "I'm not a child," I muttered. "And stop worrying about being blamed."

  "No," she said. "'You're not a child. A child would have more sense."

  I almost laughed. Tired and weak. I let her take control. Moments later. I was soaking in a hot tub, my body starting to revive. I closed my eyes and felt myself drift.

  "How's she doing?" I heard Austin ask Mrs. Bogart, I thought it was part of some dream until I opened my eyes and remembered everything.

  I called far her and she came in to help me get out of the tub and put on a nightgown. She brought in my wheelchair and wheeled me back to my bedroom. where Austin wa
s waiting. He was wearing a terms cloth robe and was barefoot.

  "How are you doing?" he asked me. "Better," I said.

  Mrs. Bogart looked from me to him and said she would see about his clothes. We watched her leave and then Austin rose and sat on my bed.

  "What were you really trying to do, Rain?"

  "Drown myself," I admitted.

  "I guess I made trouble for you with your aunt, was that it?" he asked.

  "Hardly," I said. "No. I was upset about something else. My stepbrother got in trouble with the army again. I wrote and told him about myself, and he tried to come back here and was arrested and will be courtmartialed. It's all my fault."

  "Why? He was the one who tried to go AWOL."

  "Because of me! Because of my writing to him," I emphasized. He shook his head.

  "I don't buy that. We're all responsible for ourselves. There were other things he could have done. If he makes you feel guilty..."

  "He hasn't. I haven't heard directly from him," I said. 'My aunt just as an afterthought managed to give me the information earlier. Everyone I touch," I muttered. "and everyone who touches me..."

  "Look, Rain. It's easy for me to tell you what to do and what to think, I know. I'm not the one in the wheelchair, but despite what's happened to you, there's no curse on you. Bad things happen to people. That's life. You know from being in the hospital's physical therapy department that there are people worse off than you."

  "And better." I reminded him.

  "And better." he agreed nodding, "but we're all vulnerable to the whims of fickle fate and we've got to do the best we can with the hand we're dealt. That's the only responsibility we have. Giving up doesn't gain us anything but some momentary pity from people who quickly forget us."

  I looked up at him. sharply.

  "What makes you so wise?" I asked. He shrugged.

  "You think you would have been better off at the bottom of the lake?"

  "I would have brought people less misery." I said. "And less pleasure," he retorted.

  He looked at me so intently, his eves moving over my face so slowly and with such a look of appreciation. I felt my skin tingle. He was looking hard at my lips-- lips that were slightly parted and waiting to be kissed, which was what he did, so gracefullv and softly, I thought I must have imagined it. When he pulled back, his eyes remained closed as if he was savoring the delicious moment.

  Before I could speak, we heard Mrs. Bogart coming and he straightened up.

  "Here you go," she said bringing him his clothes, dry and neatly folded.

  "Thank you. I'll just go in here and dress," he said nodding at the bathroom.

  She stood there, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at me and then at him.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bogart," I said to put a period to her suspicions.

  She nodded.

  "I'll be nearby if you need me," she said and left.

  Moments later. Austin stepped out of the bathroom. We just stared at each other.

  "Tired?" he finally asked.

  "More like numb."

  He smiled.

  "Would you like me to help you into bed?"

  "Yes," I said even though both of us knew I could do it without him.

  He took my hand and guided me up, holding me at the waist. His face was close to mine, his lips practically touching my cheek. His breath felt so warm and sweet, As I moved onto the bed, his hands traveled down my thighs and helped raise my legs. I lay there, looking up at him.

  "You're beautiful, Rain," he said. "Even when I'm working with you. I don't think of you as handicapped or injured. That's never happened to me before with a patient. Don't ever, ever again think you're not worth the effort."

  He leaned over and kissed me softly, holding my hand as he did so.

  He straightened up and backed away, but I held onto him. "Don't leave." I whispered.

  His eyes widened and he gazed at the doorway.

  "What about Mrs. Bogart?" he asked.

  "She'll go to bed soon." I said.

  "Yeah, but not until she sees me leave."

  "She's not my boss. I'm her boss."

  "That's not what I'm afraid of. See you later." he said.

  He confused me because he didn't say good night. I heard him go down the hall, say good night to Mrs. Bogart and leave. She came by to check on me and I asked her to put out the light and close the door. She did so and I lay there, confused by my mixed emotions. I was disappointed, yet excited, afraid, yet full of longing.

  A few minutes later. I heard a noise at my window. I turned and watched it go up.

  Seconds later. Austin was back in my room.

  And only moments after that, he was beside me in my bed.

  11

  Can I Be a Woman?

  .

  "Don't worry," he whispered after he put his

  arm around me. "All I came back to do was hold you until you fall asleep." "That's exactly what worries me." I said and he smiled. In the warm glow of the moonlight that spilled through my open curtains, his face was radiant, his eyes capturing the glitter like two small precious stones.

  I nestled my head against his shoulder and chest and he kissed my forehead and stoked my hair.

  "Doctor Synder and I talked about all this," I said. "She tried to assure me someone could still love me. but I wrote it off as just something cheery a therapist has to say, especially since she was also a paraplegic. She wanted to believe it as much or even more than I did.

  "I was suspicious about you. too," I said. "about all the nice things you've been saying to me."

  "You mean you're not anymore?"

  "I don't know. Still, it's pretty crazy for you to come sneaking back in here."

  "And risk my career," he added nodding.

  "You sure you want to?" I asked, lifting my head from his chest.

  "There's only one way to answer:' he replied and kissed me, this time harder. Then he lowered my head to the pillow and sat up so he could take off his clothes.

  It was like watching it all in a dream, aloof, apart, above my own bed. floating. Perhaps I had died in the lake and all this was wishful thinking in the afterlife. My heart wasn't just pounding. It was hammering and throbbing against my breastbone, rushing blood to my head, making me dizzy. I was afraid, not of making love, but of not being able to, of not being capable of returning his love and affection.

  There were so many more reasons why we shouldn't be doing this than there were why we should. Why was it that more often than not the men in my life were forbidden for one reason or another?

  When he was naked, he lifted my nightgown, bringing it up. Then he waited for me to raise my arms.

  "Don't be afraid," he said.

  Of course he would understand my fears. I thought. Who better?

  I raised my arms slowly and he took my nightgown off. Then he brought his body to mine and kissed me and held me. He took such special care with each caress, each kiss. I felt we were making love in slow motion. Seconds and minutes were glued together. The hands of the clock struggled and strained to move an iota forward. All the tingling and all the warmth that blossomed under his fingers and beneath every place that his body touched mine returned to me like memories long lost and forgotten, now traveling back over vast chasms of darkness to reach my aroused brain charged with expectations and promise.

  Can I do this? Can I be a woman again? Can I feel him grow hot with anticipation and pleasure? Would we turn our separate selves into some magical conjoined living, breathing creatures of ecstasy? Or would I fumble and moan, be clumsy and awkward and as unsatisfactory to him and myself as would a promise undelivered, my kisses turning to smoke, my embrace nothing more than wishful thinking?

  My name was on his lips. When he cupped my breasts and then brought his mouth to them, my head fell back on the pillow. I closed my eyes so I could feel myself drift deeper and deeper into the warmth built around me by my own hot blood and tingling skin.

  "You're so beautiful," he said
.

  His words were like some kind of perfume sweetening the darkness. I moaned with pleasure I had believed was gone forever, and just like some old friend shaking her head at my skepticism and disillusionment, my body chastised me for my doubt. teasing me with each rush of warmth that flowed down to my thighs.

  He was there almost as quickly to greet them. I flinched and he paused.

  "Do you want me to stop now?" he asked.

  Should I have said yes, stop, don't make me believe I can be a complete woman again, don't fill me with false hope and promise, don't help me up and then leave me to fall again? Should I have turned away from him?

  And turned to what. though? Everlasting disappointment, acceptance of defeat and tragedy? Like a swimmer who had gone too far out. I could not refuse any extended helpful hand, but surely Austin's hand wasn't just any. The way we had first looked at each other, the warm feelings we both had when we were together, the comfort and ease with which we moved in and out our most intimate thoughts and memories certainly all meant that this was something special, that together we were some thing special.

  "Don't stop," I said and lifted my head to kiss him.

  I was surprised and rapturous when I felt him inside me, filling me with so much exhilaration. I couldn't breath. I clung to him as if I was dangling in the air and if I let go, I would fall forever and ever. The rush that followed our climaxes flowed up my stomach, around my heart and then into my brain. Maybe I passed out for a moment. maybe I just reached some point beyond mere consciousness. but I found myself surprised I was still clinging to him and he was still there, holding me, catching his breath, pressing his lips to my neck and then, with one quick peck on my own lips, lifting himself away and falling back beside me.

  Neither of us spoke for a long moment. "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I have the feeling I could get up and walk away." I said and he laughed.

  "If that's all it took. I'd be the most successful therapist in the business."