Stranger is the Sail Ch. 02

So that's what this is about. The medication. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Pushing too hard can't be good for you. You'll fatigue yourself."

"Good." He looks up and smiles at me. It still jars me a little bit every time, to see that my husband has a new face. "If I push past my limits, then I'll start to build endurance, right?"

"Maybe." I'm not smiling back. I'm studying how he looks now, trying to find as many traces of his natural appearance as I can. I've found a good number of spots on his face that still look like they used to. I can fix my eyes on one of those safe spots, and for a moment I see my husband as he was. Most of the pieces are still there, really. It's only the big picture that's changed.

"Ok," he sighs, closing the work book, "what would you rather do?"

I shrug. "There's a sidewalk arts thing going on at the outdoor mall. We could check that out."

"Sure," he gives me a wink, and stands to get ready.

"Don't forget to take a pill box."

He doesn't answer, but I know he'll bring it. Adrian is desperate to get away from those pills. They've been affecting his ability to...perform. In fact, we haven't had sex once since before I left on my trip. It's bothering him a great deal. I suppose he sees it as an affront to his masculinity. Men are so silly about such things.

He called the doctor about the problem Monday, but I guess they're very hesitant to switch medication so early on. Mood meds are a tricky game, and when they find something that works they get real immobile about it. We're just supposed to stay in contact with them, wait it out a bit, and see how it goes. Easy for them to say. They aren't the ones going on two months without sex.

Of course, for Adrian it's been quite a bit longer. I shouldn't complain.

I hear his voice from down the hall. It's a little slurred, but he's been getting much better about that.

"Honey," he calls. "Where did I put my shoes?"

I smile to myself, but it doesn't stick around long. "You're wearing them, dear," I call back. I get silence in response. Then something hits the wall, hard. I go running.

"Adrian?!" I call out, getting no response. "ADRIAN?!"

I push into the bedroom and see him sitting on the floor, staring at the wall. There's a hole there where his foot went through.

"Are you okay?" I ask, but he won't answer. He won't even look at me. He's embarassed.

Even with medication, these mood swings that the car accident deposited in my sweet man's heads are enough to scare me. I crouch down, cradle him against my breasts, and hope they don't last forever.

Monday, May 17
MELINDA BLAKE

"Hey, buddy! Last time I saw you, I thought it looked like you'd lost a ton of wieght, but I see I was wrong! You must be eating like a king!"

Rodney shakes hands with Adrian, laughing, and Laura gives me a welcoming hug.

"It's been a while," she says.

"Yeah," says Adrian. "I'm actually a little hurt that you didn't pop by and see me in the hospital." He's smiling, just ribbing us, but his smile fades when he notices that we're not smiling back. "Did I miss something?" he asks.

"Adrian," Laura says gently, "Rod and Melinda came up three times. You and Rod watched some superhero movie together the second time they came up."

"Oh," he frowns. "Was I still in a coma?"

"No, dear. You were awake. You can't watch a movie in a coma. I think you talked sports with Rod for an hour the last time, too."

He looks embarassed. "Sorry." He looks away. "I don't remember a lot from the hospital stay."

"Well, that's too bad," Rodney laughs, "because you got a phone number from a gorgeous nurse who looked absolutely fresh outta college."

"Rodney," I give him a look. I swear, sometimes that man can be so inappropriate. I won't pretend I don't often wonder why I put up with him, but I suppose most women wonder that about their men.

"It's true!" Rodney smiles. "Just smitten with you, I swear it. Slipped the number into your hand and winked, and then just left the room. And lemme tell you, Ade...I really think he was your type."

Adrian punches him in the arm, and we all laugh.

"Anyways," I point out, "we woulda been up more, but Laura didn't tell us about the accident until almost three weeks after it happened. We honestly just thought you two had stopped returning our calls."

Rodney snorts. "She means she thought your wife wouldn't let you hang out with me anymore."

"Really? Three weeks?" Adrian glances at Laura, who seems suddenly very interested in whatever she has for us in the kitchen.

"It was a pretty emotional time, Adrian," I say gently. "Somehow, I doubt we were a priority...you know? She was probably too busy worrying about you." But something about the way Laura looks at me, and not at him, stays with me.

"Speaking of priorities," Rodney quips, "what's for supper?"

"Give me five minutes and I'll show you," Laura takes the chance to hurry off. Neither of the men seem to notice how eager she is to get away. What a strange start to the night.

"I'll just go see if I can help her," I say, excusing myself.

Behind me, I hear Rodney sigh. "Oh, thank god. They're gone." The two of them chuckle about that, and then go outside. Right, I think...like you'd ever make it without us.

Laura is stirring something in a crock pot, looking a lot more tired than she did a few seconds ago. She looks up as I come in, but doesn't speak.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

"Yeah. It should be ready soon." I give her a look, but she pretends not to read it. She knows damn well I didn't mean the food. Alright, girl. I can play that game, too. Better than you can, even.

"Adrian seems to be doing well," I say.

She sort of shrugs, almost like when you're trying to jerk an insect off your arm. "He's doing better than they thought he would," she admits. "But he's pushing himself too hard. He seems determined to exhaust himself."

"Uh-huh." I pretend to examine the contents of the crock pot. "You seem pretty stressed out, though. I'd say you look more exhausted than he does."

"Do I? Must be the cooking." He smile is forced. "Haven't done much of it, the last few months. I was worried I might have lost my touch."

Something in her looks just about to break. I return her forced smile exactly as I received it. Time to tear down that wall. "Laura, if you need someone to talk to, you know I'm here for you."

Her face scrunches up and she sobs. "I'm pregnant," she cries. "Oh, god, Mel, I'm pregnant! What am I going to do?"

Now that it's out there, she sort of sags against the counter, putting her hand to her forehead. It brushes the stirring spoon on the way up, and smears bean dip above her right eyebrow. A tear drops onto the counter, but she does look a little relieved to have finally said it out loud.

I glance down the hall. The men are still gone. Good. They tend to really screw up moments like these.

I give her sympathy and congratulations in equal measure by saying, "My goodness, what a year you seem to be having," and pulling her in for a hug. Then I step back and look at her. "Adrian doesn't know yet, does he?"

She shakes her head. "I can't tell him. I can't."

"Well, maybe not yet, anyway. But soon, I'd think. How far along are you?" I take a napkin and wipe the bean dip off her forehead, playing mother to the mother.

"I...I think about ten weeks."

"You'll be showing any day now, then. It's amazing you aren't already!" I don't point out that suddenly her loose-fitting relaxo-pants and top suddenly stand out in a new light. "You'll have to tell him something..." I trail that off, looking for an explanation.

She almost looks defiant for a minute, then looks away. "He doesn't deserve that."

"Oh, honey," I laugh. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled. They always are. They even think that it's something they did." And then I slip on two oven mits and carry the crock pot into the dining room to cover for the fact that she needs a few moments alone.

And to give myself time to try and puzzle out what it is she's not telling me about this pregnancy.

ADRIAN BURKE

After Rod gets done showing off his new truck, we go back inside for supper. "Yeah," he grunts as we find our seats, "from what they're saying on the news, I guess I got rid of that Technica at just the right moment. Know what I mean?"

I shake my head, and his wife rolls her eyes. "Rodney," she says, "it's the new model that's faulty. Yours was six years old."

"Well," he pouts, "it's the last one I'll ever own, anyway. You ask me, that company is done for."

"Let's talk about something else," Laura says, and they all seem a bit sheepish for a moment.

"Why?" I ask. "What's going on?"

Rod looks at his wife apologetically as he chews, then says, "Oh, I guess something's wrong with the Technica. They've been in a bunch of accidents lately."

Each of them finds something interesting to look at that isn't me. Silly. "I don't see why that makes it something we can't talk about," I point out.

Rod shrugs, but still nobody says a thing. After a moment, he looks at me with a new twinkle growing in his eye and says, "How about we talk about how much the Hawkeyes suck instead."

"Now wait a minute," I warn. "Talk about car accidents all night if you want to, but leave the Hawkeyes out of this."

That sets off a round of football talk between us while the women look bored. Then we move on to other topics, and more laughter.

It's nice spending time with people who are still so carefree. Reminds me of what my goal really is, and why it's worth fighting for. It reminds me of how happy we used to be.

Laura seems a bit subdued, tonight. As much as she was looking forward to this evening, you'd think...

Hey. I wonder what those looks Melinda keeps throwing her are about.

Wednesday, May 19
ADRIAN BURKE

I stumble a little, catching myself on the coffee table and straining as I set the free weight down. It slips out of my sweat-sheened palm about ten inches off the floor and thuds into a rough landing. I wince and try to wipe the sweat off my brow. My hand is no less wet than my forehead, so it doesn't help much.

It's a good thing Laura is at work; if she'd seen what just happened...

Whatever. I'm not pushing myself too hard. I'm pushing myself just the right amount. They can think I'm cheap glass fragile, if that's what they want to believe. I know better. I'm getting stronger all the time.

Standing up and shaking my head to keep sweat from stinging my eyes, I stretch and then head off to shower. A glance in the mirror brings a small smile to my face. The stranger is nowhere to be seen. I'm up fifteen pounds, my hair is all grown back, and the scars all over my face no longer look so angry. It's a bit twisted up, and still a little gaunt, but it's definitely my face. I'm looking at me.

What a difference two weeks at home has made. I'm pretty sure there have been more improvements in the prior fourteen days than in the last six weeks of my hospital stay. I even have a job lined up. Gas station cash register work, but who am I to complain? It'll be good just to be working again. Plus it's just up the road...about five blocks from here...so I'll be able to walk. I start Monday. It'll knock me off disability, but I'd rather earn my pay, thanks.

Besides, Laura's only been back to work for three days and I'm already climbing the walls with boredom. I can't spend the rest of my life as a house husband. No way.

Cash register work is a fine start, I think. I've been doing what I can to get ready. I mean, obviously I want to do a good job. But I also don't want to get shown up by a bunch of high school kids. Last night I spent hours practicing counting change. I'm pretty slow, still, but I don't screw up or have to start over unless I'm feeling pressured. Laura says that it won't matter...most people use debit cards, now, not cash. I'd forgotten those even existed. Think I'll practice some more tonight, anyway.

Coming out of the shower, I examine myself. Somehow, I came out of the accident with almost no damage below the shoulder line. Nothing visible, anyway. I reach down between my legs, run my fingers along the shaft, and then give it a few soft pulls. No response. One last hurtle left to jump.

I finally have an appointment Tuesday to see about getting a new behavior med. Supposedly, this one won't leave me impotent. God damn do I hope that it works. With the one I'm on, yeah, my mood is stable and all that, but no one and nothing is gonna make the little guy stand up. Hardly a decent trade-off, if you ask me.

Hell, the pill doesn't even work all that great, to be honest. It does make it hard for me to get upset, but when I do...holy shit. I almost can't control myself. There was an incident at the hospital that proved that. And apparently a week or so after we got home Laura had to restrain me from hitting my head against the wall over and over again because I was mad at myself for some small thing. The doctor said it's a result of my injury, and it must be true...I never used to get upset like that. Ever.

Still need to get that hole in the bedroom wall fixed. And the one in the hallway.

The phone rings. I rush out to answer it.

"Hey, honey," Laura sounds tired. She sounds that way a lot lately. "How is your day going?"

"Not bad. I worked out, read part of a book, thought about house chores that need doing. Been missing you, mostly."

"Me too. I'm used to being with you all the time, now. I miss it. Listen, though...I do need to stay a little late tonight to get caught up. I won't be later than six-thirty. I promise."

"Oh," I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. "Okay."

"Don't forget that Mom is stopping by in a few hours to check up on you. Make sure to let her know if you need anything."

"She doesn't have to do that, Laura. In fact I wish she wouldn't."

"It's just this first week on your own, hon. We want to make sure everything is okay. Then she'll be going back to Castlewood, and tha'tll be the end of it."

"I'm not a child," I snap. "I don't need a babysitter."

There's a pause, and I know she's trying to word her response so that it calms me and prevents another hole in the wall. "I know that," she says slowly. "We all worry about you, but it's only because we love you. Nobody thinks of you as incapable."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anger. It doesn't work. "Fine," I say.

"Ok. I've gotta go, honey," she chimes.

"Bye. I love you."

I shake my head as I hang up the phone. They don't just worry because they love me. I know that. And I am looking forward to showing them that they don't need to worry at all.

Thursday, May 20
AMANDA DOLE

I'm pretty sure that I hide the upsurge of anger and disappointment I feel when Adrian tells me that Laura is working late for the second night in a row. He doesn't seem to notice, anyway.

I help him make supper and clean up afterwards, I make a few phone calls. Then I find flimsy excuse to stick around until Laura gets home. Adrian doesn't seem concerned. Why would he be? He may remember that there were all sorts of "late nights" in the weeks before the accident, but he doesn't remember that they were all lies.

Adrian is in the kitchen counting coins when Laura's headlights flash across the living room wall. I jump up and head out the front door, waving my arms, trying to get her attention before she opens the garage door. Stopping and rolling down her window, Laura frowns.

"Mom? Is something wrong? Why are you still here?"

"Don't open the garage door. I don't want Adrian to come out here and overhear us."

She bites her lip. "What's going on?"

"Shut off the car and come out here. I'm too old to be leaning over to whisper."

For a moment her expression tenses, and I almost expect her to open the garage door and leave me standing there. But then, with a sigh, she kills the motor and climbs out of the car.

"If this is about me working late," she says, "I'm sorry. There's just so much-"

"Don't you lie to me, girl!" I snap. "Unlike your loving husband, I happen to know all of your sorry little secrets. Now, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but I called your office tonight and was assured by several people that you did not stay late. In fact, you left a little early...about three hours ago. So don't lie to me about it."

She stares at me, looking for all the world like the little girl I caught sneaking cookies out of the kitchen a quarter century ago. "What are....Mom, I..." she licks her lips, and forces an indignant expression. "What exactly are you accusing me of, here?"

"You're not stupid, Laura Burke, and neither am I. So stop talking like we are."

She looks ready to go on denying, moving her jaw almost like she's chewing on something, and then she just sags against the frame of the vehicle. "Alright," she says. "Alright. I went and talked to Victor tonight," she hangs her head. "But we just talked!"

I'm not sure what she expected...hell, I'm not sure what I expected...but we're both taken by surprise when my arm flies out and slaps her, hard. "Of all the stupid, selfish, MEAN goddamn things to do..." I realize that my hands are balled into fists, held out in front of me, and I step away. I almost want to cry. My daughter is doing this thing. MY daughter.

"Mom," she says, crying now. "I'm not seeing him. I swear it. I had to talk to him about...about the baby."

I stop breathing.

Baby? What...a...a grandchild? A beautiful, tiny, stubby-armed little innocent creature?

And it's VICTOR'S?!

"Are you sure?" I ask, voice quaking.

"Mom, look at me."

I do, and suddenly I see it. We've all been so fixated on Adrian that it was right there in front of our faces, and we never noticed. She's gaining weight. She's wearing loose-fitting blouses that hide the bulge, but won't for much longer. I also see, for the first time, the deeply-etched bags under her eyes.

"Oh, baby," I gasp. "Oh, my Lord, baby...my grandchild!" We fall into a hug, two weeping women.

Oh, Bill. Why didn't I make you come with me?

Finally, I push her away from me. "And you're sure it's Victor's?"

She looks at the ground. "Yes."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

The more I stew on that, the more it upsets me. My grandchild will have that son of a bitch for a father? It will have his eyes? His proclivities?

Will he want to know it?

"You went to see him tonight....why?"

"To tell him. I thought he had a right to know."

I stare at her. The newfound compassion is gone. "Had a right to know? HAD A RIGHT TO KNOW?!? You stupid bitch! What rights does he have in this house? How can you feel an obligation to that man? What about Adrian? Were you thinking about him? About how this would effect him? Or were you only thinking about yourself again?"

"I just...I'm trying to do the right thing, and I've fucked up so badly already-"

I jab my finger in her face. "I think you were planning your escape."

"MOTHER!" She looks devestated.

"Dammit, Laura, if you-"

"Hey," a male voice calls out from the front door to the house. "What's going on out here?"

Oh, no.

ADRIAN BURKE

Thought I heard voices out here. Didn't expect it to be Amanda and Laura, though. That family doesn't yell at one another. I wonder what had them all riled up?

Stepping out into the dark, squinting with my one good eye, I walk over to the two women. Laura looks sheepish and tearful. Her mother looks strangely terrified. I suppose she's embarassed that I just caught her yelling at her daughter.

I only caught Laura's indignant yell and the start of Amanda's response, but I think I understand what this is about. I noticed the change in her expression when I told her that Laura was working late again tonight. I didn't say anything, and I guess I should have, but there it is.