Lyon's Den Ch. 15

Pain, that's the first thing Bruce noticed. His head throbbed. His ribs ached. When he opened his eyes for the first time, the light pierced like needles. When he moved his hand to cover his eyes an IV tube taped to the back of his hand caught his attention.

"Hello, Bruce. Welcome back. I'm Dr. Jacobs. You're in the hospital, but you're all right. You've been asleep for a few days. Do you remember why you're here?"

Bruce squinted at the smiling stranger in the white coat. In a soft, gritty voice, he said, "What? Hospital? Why? What happened?"

The doctor flicked a penlight in his eyes, and asked, "Can you tell me your full name, Bruce?"

"Bruce Samuel Baxter." He tried to lift his head, but suddenly felt dizzy. He closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning.

"Can you tell me what year it is?"

Well that sounded like a stupid question. He told the doctor the year. A sudden intake of breath by someone else in the room gave him a clue it wasn't quite accurate.

"What?" He lifted his head again to see who it was. There was only one familiar face. "Mr. Lyons, what're you doing here?"

Mr. Lyons answered, "We're here for you Bruce."

Dr. Jacob's placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Relax. You've suffered a head injury. Your memory is a little fuzzy, but it's not uncommon in these situations. Everything should come back to you in a few days. But you have your wife and friends to help you sort this all out."

"Wife? I don't have a wife." He looked at his empty ring finger for confirmation.

A pretty, young woman stepped forward and slipped a ring on his finger. "I'm your wife... Jenifer. They took your ring off before an MRI."

He stared at the gold band for long seconds, and then at Jenifer. "What? No..." God, this can't be happening, but why would they lie, "How long...?"

"A little over a year."

This felt like a Twilight Zone episode. His head fell back and he closed his eyes. "Are my parents here?"

The hand of his mystery wife covered his. "No, they're not. I called them this morning but..."

When she didn't continue, Bruce looked up to see tears pooling in her eyes.

In a broken voice, she continued, "They hung up when I told them who I was, and then they wouldn't answer when I called back," followed by a small sob.

"So... they don't approve? Well... that's a point in your favor." Bruce gave her a weak smile. When she laughed, tears rolled down her cheeks. He started to laugh too, but then groaned in pain. He lifted his hand to feel the extent of the head bandage, and then he lifted the sheet to inspect the bruising on his torso. "What exactly happened? Why's there a bandage on my chest?"

"You have a bullet wound," said Dr. Jacobs. "But there's no permanent damage. It'll just take a while to recover your strength."

This can't be happening. It must be a nightmare. "And my memory?"

"There's a good chance it will come back in time. I'll let your wife fill in the details."

His mystery wife squeezed his hand, and said, "I'll take good care of you, Sweetheart."

Already feeling exhausted, Bruce closed his eyes. Answers would have to wait.

Dr. Jacobs turned to a nurse standing by the door, and said, "I want him to start on solid foods at lunch. You can remove the IV and the catheter as soon as possible. Give him plenty of water. Have him transferred to a standard ward."

Mr. Lyons spoke up, "Get him a private room."

The nurse apparently didn't like being bossed around by visitors. She scowled, and answered tersely, "I'll see if one is available."

Dr. Jacobs, placed his hand on Jenifer's shoulder, and said, "He'll be fine. I'll start the paperwork and he'll be release tomorrow morning." He walked toward the door, telling the nurse, "If he has any relapse, call me."

Jenifer quickly said, "Thank you, Doctor. Can I ask you a few questions in private?"

"Of course."

She followed him out into the hallway. "Do you really think his memory will come back?"

He looked at the floor, in contemplation. "Honestly, I think there's more than a fifty percent chance that it will. We treated the swelling quickly and he wasn't in a coma very long. The brain has amazing recuperative power."

"Should I tell him what happened during the missing time?"

"It's best if you just answer his questions. That way he won't get overwhelmed about forgetting important events, or depressed about not remembering even the simple things. Depression is your enemy now. Keep his mind occupied with current events and future plans."

They stood silent for a few seconds until Dr. Jacobs said, "I need to see other patients. If you have any more questions you should consult with your general practitioner. He will be able to help you, or provide a referral to a specialist."

When Jenifer returned to the room, Bruce appeared to be sleeping. Daniel talked on his cellphone.

Mary came over and put an arm around her. "He's going to be fine, Jen. It's just going to take time. He's going to need your support more than ever. Be patient with him. I know he still loves you. He'll just have to figure it out again."

Daniel hung up and joined the conversation. His furrowed brow and wandering eyes made it obvious he was unsure about the right words. "Jen, tell Bruce to take all the time he needs. No rush. His job is waiting for him when he's ready. I have to go. Call me if they can't find him a private room. I'll twist some arms." He kissed her hair and walked out.

Then Mary kissed Jenifer's cheek. "Dan's my ride, so I have to go. Call me anytime, Sweetie."

Feigning sleep, Bruce listened, trying to put memories together. So, he still worked for Mr. Lyons, and his mystery wife knows Daniel and his lady friend. But did they meet Jenifer before or after they were married? His head throbbed from thinking. 'How can I be married and not remember?'

Two nurses came in and asked Jenifer to leave the room. One placed a pitcher of water on his tray and then removed his IV. The other nurse pulled up his covers to expose him from the waist down. "I'm going to remove your catheter Mr. Baxter. It may feel a little uncomfortable." She removed the surgical tape, deflated the balloon inside, and said, "Take a deep breath. Ready? Now exhale."

He felt a gradual relief of pressure and a slight sting as she slowly pulled out the tube. "All done," she said, pulling the covers over him. "We need to check your first void, so drink plenty of water. Okay?"

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"Not yet. You'll have to use a urinal." She held up a plastic bottle with a handle. "Hit the nurse call after you're done."

The nurses left and the mystery wife returned. She stood by the bed and smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired. Confused." he said, closing his eyes. It felt rude, but he felt no connection. No desire to share with her. Soon he fell asleep.

A nightmare invaded his slumber. Alone and lost, he wandered around a dark city in the rain. A clap of thunder startled him awake. It really was raining, and the drops tap loudly on the window. He turned his head in search of his mystery wife. She sat in a chair against the wall - head back, eyes closed. This ordeal must be a strain on her as well. Practically newlyweds, she's probably rethinking her commitment. He felt a twinge of sorrow for her predicament, but also a pinprick of happiness that he'd found someone so beautiful to love him. While her eyes were closed, he could shamelessly stare. Her long, braided hair lay over her shoulder and down her chest. The dress vee-neck allowed a glimpse of cleavage. Her long, slim legs were crossed at the ankles. White sandals and red toenails showcased her feet. If she'd dressed to make a good first impression, it worked. She knew what he liked.

Another thought unnerved him. 'I'm not a virgin anymore? How could I forget making love to my wife?' As he admired her legs, Bruce imagined their silkiness on his fingers. He imagined them spread wide for him, and then wrapped around his back. His eyes wandered up above her knees to the dark, cloth cave between her legs. His penis began to respond. The heart monitor beeped with increasing frequency. Slowly, the knees began to part, revealing shadowy inner thigh, all the way up to their cloth covered apex.

Bruce glanced up to see his mystery wife staring back at him and smiling. He released the breath he didn't know he was holding, and turned away. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm your wife. I love when you look at me."

The growing erection was becoming distastefully obvious. He had to think of something else to distract his thoughts. "Do we have any kids?"

"Not yet. But we will," she said, walking to the side of the bed and brushing his cheek with the back of her hand.

The blood flow change of direction from north to south made his head throb. He couldn't take it. "Stop touching me! It hurts!"

"What hurts, Baby?"

"My head." But he covered the growing problem with his hands.

"Oh! I'm sorry." But the giggle didn't sound sorry. "You... um... rest. I'm going to the cafeteria to get some coffee. Out of sight, out of mind." She kissed his forehead before leaving.

After a few minutes, the throbbing stopped above his shoulders and below his waist. But his whole body ached from injuries he couldn't account for. 'It must've been a terrible beating. A beating followed by a bullet meant to end it all. Why?'

A nurse entered, halting his rumination. "Time to move you to a new room, Mr. Baxter." She unceremoniously pulled down his sheet and began removing the monitor pads from his chest.

"Okay, but my wife-"

"We'll tell her where you are when she comes back. We need this room right away for a new patient. Do you think you can get into a wheelchair if I help?"

Bruce wasn't sure, but he hated this helpless feeling. No matter how much it was going to hurt, he said, "No problem."

Although his balance was a little off, he was able to get into the wheelchair without much assistance. The ride to his room involved an elevator trip up to the sixth floor. As they rolled down the hall the motion made him feel queasy, so he closed his eyes. He didn't see the policeman dozing outside the room next to his. He didn't see Lou Tabor, the man his wife accused of assault and attempted murder, laying in there with the wired jaw and broken arm.

But Lou saw Bruce, and it filled him with a hatred and contempt only people going through heroin withdrawal feel. Facing a lifetime in jail without the comfort of anesthetics, Lou felt the burn of retaliation, and yanked on the handcuff locking him to the bedrail.

The police officer glanced into the room. "Knock it off!"

"Fuck you!" he replied, although it sounded like "Muck ooo" through his clenched jaw. With his one good hand, he began feeling for the bolts that fastened the rail to the bed.

The officer laughed and closed his eyes. "Muck ooo, too."

In the next room, once again comfortably situated in bed, Bruce pondered the missing time while drinking his third cup of water. A short list of questions to ask his mystery wife compiled in reverse chronological order.

What happened?

How did we meet?

Who are you?

He sighed heavily with dismay and reached for the urinal to complete his first, all important, void. The proof isn't always in the pudding. Sometimes it's in the pee. The thought made him grin. 'I need to have a sense of humor about all this.'

Just as he felt the relief of release, the mystery wife, Jenifer, opened the door and walked in carrying coffee and a brown bag.

Embarrassed, he clenched to stop the flow and covered up with the sheet up.

"I brought an English muffin in case you're hung..." Seeing she'd interrupted, Jenifer paused against the door, "...gry."

No one spoke for long seconds, just awkward silence, until she walked to the bedside and set down the food and drink, and said, "I'm your wife."

Not quite comprehending what she meant, Bruce gave her his furrowed brow look of confusion.

"Don't be embarrassed. Go!"

Doubtfully, he looked at the urinal bump in the sheet. "I don't know if I can with you here."

"Bullshit!" She sipped her coffee. "I've seen you pee before. In fact, I wanted to know what it felt like to pee like a man, so you let me stand behind you and hold your dick while you peed. You weren't embarrassed then. So I'm not leaving now. Get over it, or burst your bladder. Your choice."

He sighed, and said, "Don't be mad."

She answered gently, with a voice filled with regret, "Oh, Baby, I'm not mad. I'm just frustrated that you don't remember how close we were before all this happened."

Softly, he laughed. "Well...That makes two of us."

Picking up her coffee, Jenifer walked to the chair by the wall, and sat down. She pulled out her smartphone and earbuds from her purse. "I'm going to listen to some music. Let me know if you need anything." Eyes closed, her crossed leg bobbed with an unheard beat.

He couldn't resist watching for a while. 'Man, she's gorgeous. Nice legs.'

But the call of nature returned, and without further delay, Bruce lifted the sheet and discreetly completed the task at hand.

It took a minute for the nurse-call to get a response. When the nurse stuck her head in the room, Bruce held up the urinal. "First one."

She entered to retrieve the warm container. "We'll check it for blood. If there isn't any, you can use the bathroom next time. I'll be back to let you know. In the meantime, there's another urinal in the drawer if you need it."

"Okay, thank you."

Jenifer removed her earbuds. "If he's hungry, can he eat the English muffin I brought?"

"Yes, that's fine," said the nurse, closing the door behind her.

Jenifer got up and began pulling things out of the bag she'd left on the tray. "Are you hungry, Lover?"

Bruce couldn't help but smile. He had the impression his mystery wife was trying hard to please him. "Yes, starved. Thanks... Honey."

She paused in mid-muffin extraction to smile at him, eyes filling with tears. After a deep breath, she said, "Okay. Let me fix it for you," and went to work.

He watched her spread butter on each half of the muffin and then add a layer of strawberry jam from little peel-off-top containers.

Presenting it to him on a napkin, she said, "There you go. Just how you like it."

"Thank you. You're very thoughtful."

"I missed breakfast, so I'm going to eat with you." She reached into the bag.

"Plain bagel with cream cheese."

Jenifer's jaw dropped. "You remembered what I like! That's great, Bruce!"

He just smiled, and didn't mention he looked in the bag earlier while her eyes were closed.

Fifteen minutes later the nurse returned with good news. "No blood in your urine. You can use the bathroom. Let's get you up sitting in a chair, Mr. Baxter. You've been laying around long enough."

Surprisingly, he felt stronger already, and was able to maneuver to the chair with minor assistance and minimal pain. After the nurse left, Jenifer closed the hallway door. She pulled her chair next to his, sat down, held his hand, and rested her head on his shoulder.

The silence became uncomfortable for Bruce. It felt wonderful to have a beautiful woman close and cuddly, but where was the husband/wife emotional bond he'd always imagined?

He whispered, "Are you awake?"

"Mm hmm."

"Can I ask you some questions?"

"Of course," said Jenifer, sitting up at attention, folding her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl ready for a quiz.

Was that nervousness he detected in her voice and posture? "What happened?"

"What happened when?"

What a dumb question. He felt sure she was acting intentionally obtuse. "When I got shot - how'd that happen?"

"Do you remember where we live?"

"I remember where I lived. I bought an old farm. Is that where we live?"

"Yes, it is. I love it. It will be a wonderful place to raise our kids. I've always wanted a horse. Do you think-"

Cutting her off, he said, "Maybe. But tell me what happened."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We were having a picnic by the pond. We were attacked by two men. You were beaten and shot protecting me."

"You weren't hurt. So... I saved you. How did I do that?"

Jenifer sat quietly staring at her hands for too long.

He asked again. "How'd I do that?"

"Well... you were beaten pretty badly. One of the men was going to... assault me... sexually. You fought with the other one, and got shot when you broke his arm. We'd probably both be dead if Daniel hadn't stopped by the house. He shot the guy who was about to stab me. Mary called the police and an ambulance, and here you are. Getting better. Coming home with me tomorrow. Getting on with our lives... together."

"Mr. Lyons saved us?"

"Yes. But you would've died trying." Jenifer wrapped her arms gently around Bruce and kissed his cheek. "I'm so glad you didn't."

"Yeah, me too!" he said, giving her a small smile, while feeling sad at not being the happy-ending-hero. "So... who were these guys?"

Resting her forehead on his shoulder, Jenifer spoke softly. "The guy that attacked me... the one that died, was stalking me, I guess. He worked where I worked."

"Where was that?"

Jenifer lifted her head and pinched her nose. "Your breath really stinks. I brought your toothbrush. Think you can brush your teeth for me?"

The change of subject worked. Bruce said, "I think I could manage that."

"Great!" Jenifer picked up her purse and went into the bathroom, saying, "I'll get everything ready for you. Do you want to shave, too? I'd be happy to shave you, if you want."

'She's avoiding the question,' thought Bruce. 'Why?'

Determined to test his physical limitations, he stood on his own. There were aches and pains all over. He stood still for a moment to make sure of his balance, then gingerly walked to the bathroom, and leaned against the door jamb to rest.

Jenifer, seeing his reflection in the mirror, turned quickly, "Whoa, slow down big guy. Don't rush it. Let me help." Placing her arm around his waist and his arm over her shoulders, they moved to the sink.

He leaned on the porcelain with both hands and stared at the pale, bristly, face in the mirror. One hand rose up to feel the bandage covering his scalp. "I need more than a shave. I need a head transplant."

Rubbing his back soothingly, Jenifer said, "No you don't. I love this head." She kissed his cheek.

Not knowing how long he could stand, Bruce proceed to brush and floss quickly, while his mystery wife pressed against his back with her arms around his waist. She continued to smile over his shoulder at his reflection. Physical contact with her proved very distracting. When he bent over to spit and rinse, she tightened her grip and pressed her stomach hard against his buttocks for leverage. Even through the pain of bending, physical arousal surprised him like a rainbow after a storm, beautiful with no real beginning or end.

Exhausted, Bruce said, "I'd better sit down."

Jenifer slipped under his arm and helped him back to the chair.

She picked up a plastic bucket, and said, "I'm going to shave you. You'll feel so much better."

Bruce closed his eyes and floated on the edge of sleep, until a warm dampness touched his face.

"Feels good, doesn't it," said the mystery wife, as she coated his stubble with shaving cream. "I soaked the can in hot water for a while."

"It feels great."

Pulling a chair directly in front of him, Jenifer sat with her legs open around his and leaned forward to get close. For steadying support, her free hand rested on his shoulder.

She brandished the razor in front of his face, and in a husky whisper said, "Now don't move." Then, with great concentration, she started at his left temple and eased the razor down his cheek.

When Jenifer bent down to rinse the razor in a tub of hot water on the floor, the vee of her dress fell away from her body to reveal an unrestrained breast. A surprised Bruce was caught staring, and quickly looked away. "Sorry."