Chapter 4: The Final Straw

Monday went as Scott predicted. The hearing lasted seven minutes, and nothing was resolved except removing the conflicted Judge from the case review panel. Scott echoed his grandfather’s analogy about the slow wheels of justice before concluding his call with Peter, who stayed home at their recommendation to avoid unnecessary media exposure.

His father was absent from the hearing because he had to return to work that day. He was gone by the time Peter woke up—alone again.

That afternoon, he was surprised by a call from Devon, his physical therapist, who wanted to get him into the pool again. Peter was an avid swimmer (and a star quarterback) before the accident that cost him his lower legs.

“How am I supposed to swim without feet?”

“You’re much stronger in your upper body, Pete,” the trainer replied. “We need to get you back on balance, and swimming is the best way to tone you up. I want to see how well your fly stroke is. You can do it relying on your upper body strength.”

“I don’t think my titanium feet were meant for swimming,” he argued skeptically. He wanted to call Dr. Richardson as soon as he got off the phone with Devon.

“I doubt they’d stay on in the water,” the PT replied. “We’ll try it tomorrow without them.”

Immediately after hanging up, he dialed Puget Sound Orthopedic Solutions from memory. He was connected with a flamboyant tech named Barry.

“Hey! What’s up, Peter? How are the new feet?”

“Good,” he replied. “Great. I got a weird question.”

“Those are the best kinds, dude. What can I do for you?”

“Can you make prosthetic swim fins?” He explained how he’d continue therapy in the pool and the awkwardness of completing laps without feet.”

“Dude! Excellent idea!” Barry exclaimed. “Oh, heck yeah! I can make you awesome fins!” His voice faded as he spoke to someone else, probably his partner Mike. Then he came back. “Dude! This is great! I’m gonna drop everything and work on this. Gotta go!”

“But...” Peter began as the line went dead. He grunted and hung up the phone. He was again convinced that investing in Dr. Richardson and his team would be lucrative.

He struggled to relearn his form, splashing slowly in the downtown pool. He was winded after one lap and frustrated by his slowness. Kathy sat at the pool’s edge, feet in the water, encouraging him as he swam with the therapist. He barely managed to propel himself with his shortened legs. After several disappointing laps, Devon had him try the butterfly stroke. Initially, the results were discouraging. However, his stubborn determination, inherited from his father, drove him to recognize and correct his poor form. After an hour, he was smoothly propelling himself with his strong arms and chest. He relied little on his legs but became faster and stronger, launching his torso out of the water with each stroke.

His therapist congratulated him as he cooled down beside the pool next to Kathy.

“Damn, you must’ve been a great swimmer,” Devon gushed, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You were almost at the top of your form at the end.”

“Thanks,” Peter gasped, catching his breath. Kathy beamed down at him proudly. “I gotta admit ... that felt good.”

“You looked like a dolphin racing a fishing boat,” she added excitedly as he propelled himself out of the pool with his arms and spun to sit on the edge beside her. His arms and chest were still bulging from the increased blood flow from his exertion. She squeezed his bicep appreciatively. After showering, he took her to lunch at Tony Romas, inhaling a rack of ribs and a half chicken platter.

The following Thursday, June 21st, his sister called him from her departure gate at SeaTac just before boarding her plane for Cancun. He sighed wistfully as he hung up and prepared to leave for the pool again.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Kat asked him as he grabbed his small bag and towel.

“I’m just a little jealous,” he replied as they left the house.

“Of what?”

“I can’t wait to take you to places like that.” He spent the ride sharing his dreams of exploring once he had freedom. “I want to fly us to the Far East and spend a month touring Borneo, Saipan, Thailand, and those small islands,” he gushed. “Then we will go to Australia and New Zealand. And Tasmania.”

“That sounds awesome!”

After his swimming session, they visited the hospital before lunch to see his mom. He didn’t enter her room, staring sadly at her wasted body through the glass from the anteroom. They stayed for a few minutes before he abruptly turned and left without speaking. She kept her peace while he brooded silently during the ride home.

During the week, they had gotten used to his father leaving early and returning late (far later than a typical shift worker). Because of his post-swim soreness, Kathy insisted on staying at her place the nights after his sessions, forcing him to relax and let his muscles heal. During those nights, he concentrated on helping Alan complete the inventory control program.

Friday morning, Kathy let herself in with a bag of bear claws and the papers while he cleaned up the kitchen mess left by his father. “Did Ronni-kins make it to Cancun, okay?” she asked as she hugged him tightly.

He nodded and inspected the white paper bag. “Her and six classmates from WSU,” he replied as he reached for two cups.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked with a hint of sexual innuendo.

He grinned back at her as he poured them both coffees. “My body is sore, but I could use a little loosening up—”

“I think I know just the thing,” she replied, biting into a pastry. She followed him to the table, where they spread the papers and enjoyed their coffee and treats. “What did you want to do today?” she asked. “After we ‘loosen’ you up?”

He swallowed his second bear claw and sipped coffee to wash it down. “Do we have to do anything?” he asked. “I mean, I could use a lot of ‘loosening up.’” he regarded her with a deadpan expression that set her to giggling.

“I’ll be bow-legged by tomorrow,” she replied, licking the sugary frosting from her fingertips in a way that made him shudder. She kept her pale gray eyes on him and smiled enticingly as he gaped.

“God, I hope so,” he whispered unsteadily as he shoved the unread paper away and rose from the table.

Fifteen minutes later, he was poised over her supine body, with his arms locked in a plank, holding himself above her. She held his arms and moaned in pleasure with her legs curled up and locked behind his butt. He took deep breaths as he relished the feeling of her tight muscles holding him. He peered down at her with lust in his eyes.

“Make it hurt!” she demanded. He spent the next 12 hours trying to abide by her wishes.

It was a Friday night, and neither expected his father to be home before midnight. They were not disappointed—or surprised—when they were jarred to wakefulness by the sound of his truck pulling up the drive at 1 am. Peter had already made sure his door was bolted, so they lay beside each other and listened as the front door opened, and he stumbled inside with another woman. They snickered quietly as the pair clumsily went up the steps and into the master bedroom.

The sounds of clumsy sex echoed through the floor. Whoever she was, she was either a vigorous lover or a trained actress, hollering wildly in ecstasy as his father pounded her into the mattress. After several minutes, they heard him roaring as he finished, and the thumping stopped.

Both were surprised when the house remained quiet afterward, and there was no indication of them getting dressed and leaving again.

“I guess she’s spending the night,” Peter mused in the dark.

“Maybe he’s finally found ‘the one,’” Kathy giggled beside him.

“That’s doubtful, knowing him.”

The next morning, they rose early and showered together before getting dressed and entering the kitchen to prepare a big breakfast and coffee. They sat across from each other, reading their papers and enjoying their coffee, when they heard the upstairs bedroom door open. They watched curiously as a petite blonde woman with dreadful hair stepped down the stairs and halted to look back at them in astonishment.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted her. “Would you like some coffee or breakfast? We made extra,” he smiled. “Figured you could use some fuel after that workout last night.” Kathy kicked him under the table. “What’s your name?”

The woman gazed back at him uncertainly as she slipped her heels onto her feet. “Um, Candy,” she replied hesitantly. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll just head out—”

“You sure you don’t want some coffee before hitting the road?” he pressed innocently. “Need a ride?”

She dug into her bag and held up a cell phone. “Thanks, I’ll be okay. I’ll call a taxi after I walk a bit.” She stepped carefully around the table and headed for the door.

“Well, okay then,” he replied without getting up. “Nice to meet you, Candy.”

After the door closed behind her, Kathy nearly screamed into her hands as her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh my God!” she cried, wiping her eyes as he grinned back at her. “What the hell?”

“I know, right?” he giggled.

An hour later, Roger began making noises above them. They heard him move around the room and use the toilet before stepping out of the bedroom and descending the stairs. He paused at the landing to gaze at the two seated across from each other at the table.

“Morning, Dad,” Peter greeted lightly. “Made extra pancakes and sausage for you. It sounded like you worked up an appetite last night.” He flinched when she kicked him again.

“What’s she doing here?” the man grunted as he went to the kitchen to pour coffee and check the leftovers.

Peter winked at her as he got up to refresh their cups. “It’s almost 10:30. Kathy has been here for a few hours. She’s taking me grocery shopping this morning, remember? You were supposed to get me some cash?”