Chapter 8

“This is more than an experience in the shadows of sleep.”
—Richard Bunning, Another Space in Time

BY THE TIME Mom got home, Francie was sitting demurely beside my head reading some ancient short story by Willa Cather for my freshman English class assignment.

“Francie, it’s so nice that you come by to help with Jakey’s homework a couple of times a week. I’m sure it’s helping him,” Mom said. Oh, yeah. It helps.

“I don’t mind at all, Mrs. H. Emily and I are planning to go over our history notes later and this was just a nice stop-over. I remember this story from when I was a freshman.”

“Well, you’ll stay for dinner to help celebrate with the birthday boy, I hope.”

“Yeah. Um ... I’ll step out to Em’s room and give you privacy to get Jacob up.” When she got behind Mom’s back she grinned at me and winked. Yeah. Like Mom was going to uncover anything Francie hadn’t seen and had in her mouth an hour ago. But what the hell. If she wasn’t in the room, I was less likely to get a boner while Mom held the bed urinal for me.

The birthday celebration was good. It would be even better Friday when I was supposed to get my casts off. I was relieved to see that V2 had good taste as Mom served German chocolate birthday cake—my favorite. Em and Francie had a bit of a contest to see who could shove the most cake into—or onto—my face.

“So, Jake, what’s your birthday statement for the year,” Dad said. He pulled out his iPhone and clicked it to record like he was some television reporter. A birthday statement? Oh, yeah. That was a V2 tradition. Every birthday, Dad recorded a statement from us on what we expected from the next year.

“Oh. Um ... I guess...” I looked around at my family and they all looked a little worried about what I’d say. Francie and Em reached under the table to squeeze my leg. “I guess everyone should know that I’ve decided to live. That ... That’s all.” Mom looked relieved. Em and Pey smiled at me. Dad nodded. Francie let her hand drift north from my leg and gave another part of me a squeeze.

Dad clicked off his recorder. “Good, now, let’s look at some birthday gifts!”

I was relieved that the birthday presents weren’t elaborate. I didn’t have enough experience with my new family to be able to respond appropriately to lavish gifts. Pey gave me a gift card for iTunes with a cute card showing the picture of a girl and her puppy. It said, “You’re my favorite.” I had to wonder what the actual intent of the artist had been for that card. I grinned as I thought it must mean I was her puppy. Em gave me a card, too. It had one of those all-purpose brother-sister themes that talks about how much they fight but still love each other. I smiled at her. She’d shown me she still loves me. The gift card enclosed was for Amazon and her signature said, “Read lots!” I’d get some books I actually paid for on my Kindle. Cool.

Mom and Dad gave me a backpack. Special anti-theft backpack. They said it would be useful for school. Okay. Then they handed me one more box that blew the non-elaborate concept away. It was a quadcopter drone. I had to read the box while Em held it up for me before I figured out what it was. I had a camera and you could operate it with your phone. I could think of all kinds of ways I could get in trouble with this. Several involved girls lying out naked in their back yards. I wondered if I knew any.

“I didn’t bring a gift,” Francie said.

“That’s okay.”

“Maybe I could give you your very first fifteen-year-old kiss,” she said brightly. Before anyone could say anything, she leaned over and had her lips plastered against mine. It wasn’t passionate, but still got a touch of tongues in it. Hell, she’d given me my very first fifteen-year-old kiss and blowjob a few hours ago and had her tongue in my mouth searching for cavities while she rubbed her naked tits against my chest. Em started the applause and was quickly joined by Pey. Mom and Dad didn’t start clapping until Francie sat back down. If the heat in my face was any indication, I was beet red.

I was going to find some way to pay Francie back for that.

Molly had me in appropriate magnetic catch clothes and seated in my chair when Dad rolled in at noon. He was taking half a day off to get me to the doctor’s office for my appointment. I was looking forward to standing up for myself. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen today.

The arm casts came off first. I tried to lift my arm as soon as the doctor got the cast off and nothing happened.

“Whoa there. We’ll work up to movement a little at a time. Molly is going to be helping you for another few weeks.”

“My arm feels like jelly.”

“Use those muscles you’ve been strengthening the past few weeks. Lift from the shoulders.” I followed her instructions and my arm lifted. The doctor had her hands under my elbow and wrist, though, so I wasn’t sure how much I was really doing.

“Okay. Let me do the work now and see how your joints are holding up,” she said. Oh, shit! She lifted and straightened my arm, bent it at the elbow, and rotated the shoulder. It hurt. Muscles that hadn’t moved in two months were being stretched and compressed. When she laid my arm on the table beside me, it wanted to curl up on my stomach of its own accord. “Let’s rest that one while we get the other cast off. Don’t try to move it, but you can flex your fingers in order to help the blood start circulating.”

That was a good idea since my whole arm was tingling like it had fallen asleep. Molly handed me my rubber ball and I started squeezing it while the doctor got the other cast off. More of the same. I found I was sweating by the time both arms were stretched out on the table beside me. Then it was the leg. She did a few movements with my leg, mostly to get the cast out from under it and see if the knee would bend. Then my table was rolled into an x-ray room.

The x-ray tech was nowhere near as gentle and cautious as the doctor. He pulled my right arm out to the side straight, heedless of my cry. He set up the film and stepped out of the room. I heard the whir and click, then he was back to put me through the same torture on the other side.

“Jesus! Are you late for your lunch break? That hurts.”

“Ah, it’s just your muscles being stretched a little. Now roll to your left a little so I can get a different angle on the leg.”

“I can’t roll.”

“Oh, crap. You kids these days are such babies.” He pushed my shoulder and butt to the left and shoved a pillow under them. Then he spread my legs so he could get film where he wanted it. All the time he kept yammering. “When I was a teen, I broke my arm and had it in a cast for three months. A month after it was free, I pitched a no-hitter for my baseball team. You just need a better attitude. Determination. People aren’t going to treat you like you’re fragile just because you’ve had a couple of broken bones.”

What a fucker. I tried to estimate his age. My V1 brain was trying to tell me this was just a kid like all the smartass caregivers at the nursing home. My V2 eyes were telling me he was an old man—even older than my parents. If this was what old people were like in my V3 timeline, I was going to have problems with them.

Was I ever like that?

My doctor, on the other hand, was a total fox. When I was back in the examination room, she looked at the film and then prodded each of my limbs gently. There was nothing sexual about the way she treated me. She just looked good and when she prodded at my leg, I responded with a centerfield salute. I thought I saw her smile a little and shake her head, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well, Jacob, it looks good. The bones have knitted together firmly. The pin in your leg is strengthening that break—though you might feel it as a bit of an ache when weather changes. That will go away. The big challenge for you now is getting your muscles back in condition so you can function as the lively teen you are and want to be. That’s going to involve even more physical therapy work than Molly has been putting you through daily.”

“More?” I squeaked.

“Jacob, your body went through a severe trauma. You’ve experienced some of the places that have been painful or uncomfortable over the past few weeks. The torso twisting exercises, for example, have been designed to keep scar tissue from building up around the cracked ribs. The shoulder, pelvic, and abdominal exercises are going to make it possible for you to compensate for weaknesses as you recover the strength in your arms and legs. I won’t lie to you. Some of the therapy you’ll have is going to be painful. And some of it will be pleasurable.”