Life in the Fast Lane

For the next hour, Cale underwent a step-by-step evaluation for range of motion, strength, flexibility, and pain. The evaluation itself was often very painful as Rachelle had to push every joint of each limb to the limits of his endurance in order to establish a baseline for treatment. Every finger, his wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck, hips, knees, and ankles were pushed, pulled, turned, and flexed to determine where the problems were and how to proceed.

"Okay, the good news is you don't have any neurological impairment we can't work through. We're going to have to work hard to get your strength, flexibility, and range of motion back, though. You've had an MRI and according to your doctor, your brain didn't suffer any short or long-term damage. Well, other than being crazy enough to drive around a racetrack at a hundred miles an hour." Cale noticed she almost smiled that time.

He looked up at her from his bed where'd she done the evaluation and said, "A hundred miles an hour? Hell lady, we go that fast in reverse. Try 140-210 miles an hour."

"Oh, well then I'm so impressed," she said rolling her eyes dismissively. "And thank you for my making my point about your mental well being. Or lack thereof as the case may be when it comes to anyone who'd intentionally drive that fast."

Cale forced himself to try and sit up but the pain was more than he could stand. Rachelle instinctively grabbed him as he began to fall backward and kept him from hurting himself as he did. She had her arms around him as she slowed his fall and laid his upper torso gently on the bed.

While they were face to face Cale said, "See, I told you I was irresistible. You haven't been here more than an hour and you're already throwing yourself at me."

She pulled her arms out roughly and said, "You're welcome. And next time you want to sit up like that, ask me for my help." She picked up his chart and said, "Or next time I'll let you crash and burn on your own. Seems like you're pretty good at that."

She turned to walk out and Cale called out, "Oh, no you won't. You won't be able to help yourself the next time, either!"

She came back shortly in with several items Cale didn't recognize. She was setting them on the end of the bed and as she did he said, "Those look like torture devices. I had no idea you were into the kinky stuff, Ms. Williams. Or should I call you Mistress Williams?"

She gave him an if-looks-could-kill kind of glance and said, "You're gonna wish that's all these were for in about another hour. I've seen grown men a lot bigger than you cry and beg me for mercy after 15 minutes with this baby." She held up a sling and said, "Okay, let's get started."

It took 20 minutes, but after a lot of bravado, Cale wasn't crying but he was sweating and grunting. After half an hour, he did finally beg for mercy. "Jesus, woman! Do you work for the Taliban or something?" he screamed when she pushed him just past his limits.

She eased up and told him, "No, but I'll take that as a compliment because it means I'm doing my job." She sat the sling down then grabbed something that resembled a rope and said, "It's supposed to hurt, Cale. We're not playing paddy-cake here."

For another half hour, she tortured him with the rope thing until it hurt so bad he did end up with tears in his eyes. When he screamed at her the next time, he was very close to crying. She backed off and smiled at him.

"You're not only good at torturing people, you enjoy doing it! What kind of person are you?" he asked as sweat pored down his face.

"One who's damn good at her job," she told him. "Now I'm gonna role you over and work on the opposite muscle groups."

As she turned Cale over he said, "Does the waterboarding come before or after this next exercise?"

Once he was on his face she said, "Keep up that sense of humor. You're gonna need it. We just got started and we're gonna be spending several hours a day together for the next six weeks—at least—so I won't take your sarcasm—or your screaming—personally. Besides, if you get too testy, just remember who controls the sling, Mr. Smarty Pants."

Cale's face was buried in the bed as he said, "If you think this is how you're gonna win me over, you don't know much about relationships."

She put the sling under his lower leg and started lifting. "Oh, I know plenty about relationships." She lifted until she felt him wince then kept going. When he screamed out again in pain she said, "I've dated a drug dealer, a welfare cheat, and a couple of other deadbeats along with an attorney and a doctor." She started lifting his other leg as she continued, "So along with the bums and the thugs, I've also met a few pretty nice guys. In fact, I've been dating someone I really like for a few weeks now."

Before the pain got so bad he couldn't speak he asked, "Is he a masochist by any chance? You know, someone who enjoys letting you do what you do to people?"

Following a loud cry for mercy Rachelle said, "No, as I said, he happens to be a doctor. A very successful doctor and a nice guy, too, I might add. Not that it's any of your business."

"A doctor? Okay, well at least I know who my competition is," he said as she pulled out the rope and got ready to inflict more pain on him.

"Competition? I thought everything was A-okay with your brain, Cale. You see, to be his competition, you'd have to be in the game to start with. But since I don't date crazy men who drive cars around in circles a hundred...excuse me...at two-hundred miles an hour then...." She raised his leg until he screamed out again.

"Fine!" he said. "I don't date sadists who enjoy their jobs as much as you clearly do." As she switched to the other leg and started lifting he said, "And I can assure you that is your loss." Just as he finished speaking, she intentionally pushed him half an inch beyond where she knew she should just to remind him who was in charge.

"My loss. I see. Well, I'll try not to lose too much sleep over missing out on the chance of a lifetime," she said as she rolled him onto his side. "Okay, next exercise."

After one more hour, Cale was wrung out. He'd sweat through his clothes and everything that was hurting hurt more and everything that hadn't been hurting—was. He felt like even his hair hurt.

"Okay, I'm gonna draw you a bath then help you get in the tub. But first we gotta get you out of those sweaty clothes."

Cale wasn't going to tell how bad he felt. Instead he forced himself to smile and said, "I knew it! Trying to undress me on the first day. I told you I was irresistible."

She turned on the water in the bathroom while he was talking then came out and put her hands on her hips. "Uh-huh. It's all I can do to control myself over here. I mean what woman wouldn't be all over some guy who's a smart ass misogynist? Talk about a dream date. Yep. You sure are hard to resist, Cale," she said as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Now, you do the last two," she said.

His fine motor coordination was in bad shape. He had a very hard time even keeping the button between his fingers let alone undoing it. It took him over a minute to get the first one and after two minutes of agonizingly frustrating effort on the second, he dropped his hands and said, "I can't do it."

"Can't is a word that better not be in your vocabulary after today, Cale. I'll help you this one time, but from here on out, if you can't do or you won't do, it's not gonna get done. Do you understand me?"

The fire was out of him as she undid the last button and began carefully taking off his shirt. Every movement was painful as she lifted it off of his right side and then his left. "Thank you," he said quietly without looking up.

"You're welcome," she said politely as she sat his shirt down.

"Okay, next time I come here, no more jeans. You need to be in sweats or shorts so we can get you out of them. And this...belt buckle is too much." She looked at the huge buckle and said, "What is it with these big buckles and white men anyway? What's the appeal? Oh, and you unhook it while you're telling me."

Cale did his best to work his thumbs and fingers to unclip the hook as he explained that buckle was for winning his first race when he was just 22.

"So for all that you get a big, shiny belt buckle? I think I'd be looking for a new job."

"For you're information, there was a $250,000 paycheck that went with it," he said matter-of-factly as he finally managed to separate the hook from the latch.

She stood up and for a brief moment the old Rachelle came out, "What? They paid you A QUARTER OF A MILLION DOLLARS for drivin' a damn car?" She got control of herself and said, "Well, okay, but just so you know, it's gonna take a lot more than money to impress me," she told him as she pulled off his belt and unbuttoned his Levis jeans.

He didn't bother telling her how much went to his sponsor, his crew, taxes, and other expenses. He forced another smile and said, "So I am in the competition. I knew it!"

Rachelle rolled her eyes and said, "You really are delusional, you know that?"

As she got ready to pull off his pants she said, "Okay, I'm gonna grab a towel to cover you up when I pull off your pants. Don't move." She smiled knowing he literally couldn't move.

Not to be outdone he said, "We don't need no towel! I got nothing to be ashamed of."

She turned around and put her hands on her hips again and said authoritatively, "Cale? I've dated many black men and I can tell you the so-called rumors aren't rumors. I've only dated one white guy, but if you have anything in common with him, then you don't want to be bragging about something that just isn't there, okay?"

Cale's only experience with um...junk comparison...had been in high-school PE class. He'd heard all those rumors and learned first-hand through quick glances no guy would admit to taking they were true. But he also learned he was one of a very few exceptions to the rule for guys with much lighter skin tones. Still, he decided a little modesty might be in order.

"Okay, we'll do it your way," he said.

Rachelle laid a large, soft white towel over his groin and told him to hold it there as she slowly pulled down his jeans then reached under for his shorts. As she helped lift him up he slowly and painfully drug his feet out over the side of bed. "Okay, we're gonna stand you up on three, then set you back in the chair so I get you into the bathroom then we'll do like before to get you up and into the tub."

The towel staid in place all the way until she helped him get one leg into the tub of warm water. He was trying to help her and ended up letting the towel fall. Being bent over, Mr. Happy ended up staring her in the face. Without missing a beat Rachelle said, "Is there a black man in your family tree somewhere?"

Cale laughed for a moment until the pain from swinging the other leg caused him to stop and cry out in pain. As badly as it hurt, he didn't miss the fact that Rachelle had laughed too, when he did. "Yes, actually there is," he said with a straight face.

"Oh? Do tell," she said.

"My grandfather." He tried to keep that straight face but lost it when she lost it.

"I knew you had a sense of humor, Cale, but that was hilarious."

"Well, now that my secret is out in the open—not my sense of humor but um...my rather generous...endowment—can we forget about that damned towel from now on?" he said as she helped lower into the water.

"That's one of the very few things that's up to you, Cale. I've seen it all before so it's no big deal to me." She realized what she said as was ready to let him sit up alone and said, "Okay, in your case maybe it is a...." she looked down then back at him, "a reasonably big deal, but you know what I'm sayin', right?"

Cale smiled and said, "Why yes, I think I do." She gave him an 'oh-you-do, do-you?' look and he said, "Yeah. I think I just passed the test."

She turned to walk out and said, "I'll be back in 30 minutes, but I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot...."

Both of them burst out laughing again as she said with a smile, "You are a terrible man, Cale Davis."

"I saw you smile!" he hollered as she walked off.

"Uh-huh," she called back. "You just keep on dreaming you poor, delusional thing you."

Cale couldn't believe what he was seeing. His Johnson hadn't moved once since the accident. Even how, it wasn't exactly doing its thing, but it had moved. He laid back in the water and relaxed thinking, "Damn, girl. You are so hot. Doctor or no doctor—it's game on."

Day after day the therapy ground on with each day hurting more than the day before. The only things that kept Cale going were thoughts of one day sitting behind the wheel again and the lively banter with Rachelle. They spent quite a bit of time talking about how and where they grew up and the one time he'd tried to pity her she'd let him have it. In spite of her exterior toughness he knew there was a gentle, loving woman inside who very much wanted to find a man who would love and respect her. "Game on," he told himself again over and over.

After a particularly brutal session Cale asked her, "So what's this doctor got that I don't have?"

"Excuse me?" she said with a touch of indignation.

"The doctor you're dating. You know, your mysterious boyfriend who never calls or texts you. That guy. What does he have that I don't have? You know, now that you've seen what I have."

He smiled at her and somehow she managed not to laugh. She just flipped her head and said, "Class," and walked out.

"Hey! Wait a second," he called to her. "I have class!"

She called back, "Yes, you do. Low class!"

The next day, Cale had to walk ten steps on his own. He'd made eight the day before and it had almost killed him. But that morning he decided to make his move.

"Okay, so I want ten steps today. Ten, Cale. So come on," she said beckoning to him from across the room.

"I'll give you 20," he said looking right at her.

"Uh-huh. And I'm Halle Berry," she said with a bit of the old Rachelle attitude. "Cale? Two extra steps. Not 12. Two."

"You don't look like Halle Berry but you do like Eboni Williams, one of the prettiest women I've ever seen by the way, and I bet you I can do 20," he told her.

"I don't know who Eboni Williams is, but I'll assume she's at least not ugly. And while I like your determination, let's keep it real. You barely made eight yesterday, and I gave you that last step because you tried so hard but you really only took seven. So be realistic and give me 10."

"For your information, other than maybe Halle Berry, Eboni Williams is the hottest black woman I'd ever seen. At least before I met..." He stopped talking and looked right at her and said, "If I do 20, you gotta have dinner with me," he said smiling broadly.

"Are you crazy? No wait a minute. We've already established that. You are crazy and you're delusional. Have dinner with you? Yeah, right."

"Oh! Someone's afraid she'll lose! Someone's chicken." Rachelle started to protest but Cale started flapping his arms like he was a chicken while making loud clucking sounds. Rachelle did everything in her power not to laugh, but his antics were too much.

"Okay, okay! If you can walk 20 steps—not 19 and a 'gimme'—then I'll have dinner with you. But there's not a snowball's chance in hell you can even come close. So go ahead. Bring it," she said motioning for him to start walking toward her.

She almost felt sorry for him when he hit the tenth step. The last two were painfully agonizing and Rachelle found herself wincing for him as he grunted and sweat and took number 10. "Come on, Cale. Don't let your pride do this to you. Let's call it a day at 10, okay?"

"Oh, no," he said steadying himself. "I'm halfway to our first date." He looked up at her and his face was twisted in agony. She knew what he must be feeling with every step and professionally, she knew she should stop this. But as much as she hated to admit it, she almost found herself rooting for him.

"Date? Oh, no. That is not happening. And even if by some miracle you manage to get the rest of the way over here, it's just gonna be dinner—not a date."

"Why? Would your doctor friend be jealous or something?" he said as he drug his right foot forward for number 11.

"Jealous? Oh, sure. That's right. He'd be very...jealous," she said. She wasn't about to tell him she'd called it off when he refused to understand 'no' meant 'no' the last time they'd gone out. Rachelle could overlook a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them. Doctor or no doctor, any man who didn't respect her enough to stop when she said stop had no chance of being with her.

Five minutes later, he'd made number 17. Rachelle was no longer worried about the bet, she was worried about him. "Cale? You have to stop. This is ridiculous. You're gonna hurt yourself." He grunted so loudly it startled her as he pounded out number 18. He was close to hyperventilating and he was drenched in sweat.

"Stop! Please. I'll have dinner with you anyway if you'll just stop this madness." She walked over to him and tried putting her hands on his shoulders. "This is crazy. Please don't do this, okay?" she pleaded.

But he was like a man possessed and in his mind he'd forgotten about the date that wouldn't be a date. He was driven to make 20 and nothing short of death was going to keep him from it. It took him a full two minutes to drag his left foot into position for number 19. He stopped, trying to catch his breath, as Rachelle stood next to him ready to try and catch him should he fall. But it was one thing when she had the right stance and the right grip. She could never stop him from falling like this. So she stood next to him and watched in horror as sweat continued to pour from his forehead. His entire body was trembling and shaking as he reached down and grabbed his right leg the best he could with his weakened arms. They were improving but he still had very little strength in them.

Rachelle saw his heel come up off the floor ever-so slowly. He groaned in pain as the instep followed and the toes. "Oh...my...GOD!!!" he screamed as he pushed the leg forward and set it down.

Rachelle grabbed him as his legs gave out. She managed to keep him from completely collapsing and only fall to his knees as she held her arms underneath his armpits for support. He was too exhausted to stand back up and she couldn't hold him like this any longer. Slowly and gently she let him fall on his side until she was lying next to him, face to face on the floor with her arms still around him. "You are certifiably insane," she said sweetly as he panted hard.

"But I won," he managed to say. "I won."

She couldn't help but smile at him. "Yes, you did. Fair and square." She wiped the sweat from his brow then gave him an overly serious look and told him, "Don't you dare even think about taking me out for fast food."

He opened his eyes and looked at her and said, "I have more class than that, Ms. Williams."

She suddenly felt like she'd never felt before around him and it made her feel very strange. Even so, she found herself saying, "If we're going on a first date, maybe you should start calling me Rachelle."

Cale's face was pressed flat against the floor and he looked so helpless. Pathetic even. But she had to admit he really was very cute. He raised his arm and made a fist and tried to pump it up and down. "Yes!" he mumbled. "It is a date. I knew it."

She sat up and said, "Yes, it is, but only if you live to take me on it. Somehow, we gotta get you sat up in that chair. Hold on."

A couple minutes later, Cale heard a familiar voice. "Can't you people do nothin' without someone else's help? For cryin' out loud, woman, how much are we payin' you not to do your job around here?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis, but I need a little help. Cale kind of overdid it today."