Chapter 10

The two of them handled me, literally. Brought me into the house, showed me the room I’d be staying in for the short term was how the man put it. Liz unpacked my duffel bag stocked the dresser drawers with the stuff she found therein, and set up the bathroom to accommodate, to the degree possible, a man with no legs.

Then we went to dinner. Where else? We ate at the Pasture. Oh, and we drank a little too.

“So, tell us?” he said finally broaching the question I’m sure the both of them had been dying to ask all freakin’ day.

“Our convoy was hit by and RPG, a big ass grenade, in transit to a new location. I ate it. So did some other guys,” I said.

“And the Army...” Lance started.

“The Marines,” I said, interrupting him.

“Yes, sorry, I know. The Marines?” he said.

“I’ll be getting around $2,500 a month starting, well, really starting now. But the first check hasn’t hit the credit union yet, but it’s supposed to soon,” I said.

“No problem, I got yuh covered for now,” he said.

“And, me too,” said Liz. “I’m rich, I’m a pharmacist.” I had to laugh.

“I would have expected nothing less,” I said. “I mean you were the second smartest student at Harmon.”

“Yes, well that is a true thing isn’t it,” she said.

“But I’ll do okay as soon as I get situated. I do have my doctorate in Math, as you well know,” I said, turning to Lance.

“True,” he said. “But $2,500 a month is just getting by money; you’ll be wanting to do a bit better than that. I can get you on at our shop if you’d be interested.” I gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe so,” I said. “But transportation... ?”

“Taken care of for now. But I know you know that there are cars that you can get that are set up for vets like you,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” I said. “I’ll be looking into that.”

“Lee, I have to say I’m both surprised and glad to see that you seem to be dealing with this, your disability, quite well,” said Liz.

“Yeah, whatever. I was down in the dumps for a while, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so well, I’m doing the best that I can,” I said. “But, don’t be fooled; I do want to cry virtually every hour on the hour.” I smiled, but my tablemates did not.

“Yeah well, you’ve got serious reason,” said Lance.

“Lance, Liz, I need one small favor. Okay?” I said.

“You got it, man,” he said.

“Me too,” said Liz. I nodded.

“Do not clue my enemies about me being home. It’s none of their goddamn business. If I want them to know anything, I’ll be the one to tell them. Okay?” My friends nodded. “And that goes for any of their friends. Any friends of theirs are enemies of mine.”

And I did get my first check from the Navy: it was deposited to my Navy credit union account. It would be my bank for the duration.

And, Lance was as good as his word. He’d gotten me a job working for his firm, and the job was actually interesting. It would be my job to analyze case discovery documents to see what I could find that would be of benefit to whatever client the documents related to. I was kind of a document private investigator. No leg work—no pun intended—but pretty much the same kind of stuff a PI with legs did. Like I said, interesting.

And I liked what I was doing. At first it wasn’t really even a heavy job, but then it was.

I’d been able to discover discrepancies and questions in a number of docs that worked in favor of Costley and Michaels clients. It was a big firm, and as a result, I was suddenly working for a dozen lawyers. The good news was that I was getting bonuses. The bad news was that the work load was killing me.

Long days and long nights. But well, the long nights were otherwise nightmares about the bad guys and my kid; the one I’d never met or even seen a picture of. I wondered if the bad guys ever thought about me. I had to figure that maybe at least she did. I mean we were married for quite a while before she stabbed me in the back. If she had a conscience at all, I figured I’d gotten mention in at least a few of her dreams. But maybe not. It had been a long time. They’d have all but forgotten me by now and moved on. A fading memory that was me.

I’d just gotten off work and gotten a ride back from the shop with Lance as usual. It was March of ‘93. I’d been staying at my man’s place for going on two years. I had been talking to Lance about getting my own place. Problem was the car: I’d need one if I got me a place. Still, he and I had the same hours most days, and I got rides from him no problem, and I did like his Caddy.

Old Milton was around too, and he had done something, I think at the suggestion of Lance, about finding me a used truck that was low enough to the ground to be convenient for me, and ended up being cheap enough for me to afford. I really wanted to pay cash. But I had assumed, that it would be a while before I had the geld to pay for a truck, even one that was less than suitable for polite company.

All of the above said, Milton, unbeknownst to me, had managed to find the ideal wreck for me to buy cash—$1,000 as is. He, Milton, had also arranged to have hand controls installed on the semi-ancient 1978 Chevy—he’d had that done on his own. His gift to me, so he said. He drove up in it himself to present it to me.

“Huh?” I said.

“I paid cash for it. You owe me, but just for the car,” he said.

“Huh?” I said.

“A thousand bucks. You can afford it. You’re making more than me with your disability added in,” he said. I nodded.

I was impressed. The fifteen-year-old Chevy, a 1978, short-bed had a few dents, but nothing too bad. The seats inside weren’t too stained either; and it, the inside, was otherwise clean. A thousand bucks? I already had five-grand stashed at the credit union. I’d be paying the man off immediately.

The really good news was that the truck did have the wheel controls. Milt had gifted me those, which would allow me to drive it right away. Milton, who’d actually driven it over to the house, showed me the game: we did a short cruise in the thing to kind familiarize me with the controls before he would trust me with it. I’d still need to be figuring out how to get in and out of it on my own. But I’d do it, somehow, I’d do it.

Parking, I gave my old friend a look. “Milt, I don’t know how to thank you. This is a Godsend. Now I’ll actually be able to get me a place. I may be legless, but things seem to be coming together for me, at least to some extent,” I said.

“You’re doin’ good, man. A lot of guys would be crying in their beer nightly and drinking themselves to death,” he said, and he was not smiling.

“Hmm,” I said. “To be honest, I have been thinking about doing some serious drinking. I hear it’s being considered as a sport for the next Olympics.”