Chapter 16: A Slow Recovery

November 27, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, I went to karate and exercised with the class, then practiced kata with the blue and purple belts. My left arm tired easily, partly from the broken wrist, but mostly from the weight of the cast. When we arrived home, Kara helped me wrap my cast in plastic, then helped me take a shower, though it had to be quick so as not to have water leak under the plastic.

After lunch, I followed Jessica back to the ‘Indian’ room and asked if she’d talk with me.

“I promised I’d talk to you each day,” she said. “Come in.”

I went in and she indicated the basket chair while she reclined on the bed and propped her ankle on a pillow.

“Did you make arrangements for your individual counseling?” I asked.

“I’m doing it during my lunch break on Wednesdays. I had my first one this week.”

“May I give you one piece of advice?” I asked.

“You will whether or not I want to hear it,” she sighed.

I wanted to scream at her, but that wouldn’t do any good. And as I’d said to Kara, I was the carrot and the doctors were the stick.

“No, actually, I won’t. If you aren’t interested in hearing it, I’ll keep it to myself. I’m not here to argue with you or fight with you or anything like that. I just want to help. If you don’t want my help, I can’t force you to take it.”

“But you’ll just run to Doctor Barton and tattle.”

I shook my head, “No, I won’t. Al has consistently told me to stay out of medical training issues. So I am. Your issues with your teachers are between you and them. I’m here as your husband and nothing more.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “What’s your advice?”

“Cry. Drop the ‘Doctor Jessica’ persona and let it all out. Talk honestly with your counselor about everything, especially Jorge.”

“But I AM ‘Doctor Jessica’!”

I shook my head, “You’re wrong. You’re far more than that. In your mind you’re only ‘Doctor Jessica’; but you’re also ‘Babe’, my wife and Kara’s wife; ‘Mom’ or ‘Mommy’, to Albert and Ashley, and, if you ask them, to Birgit and Stephie. You can deny it all you want, but it’s true. We made vows. I made you pregnant. I saw those children born.”

“I thought you weren’t going to argue with me,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“Stating facts is not arguing. If you diagnose a patient with cancer and they are in denial, does that change the facts?”

“No, of course not!”

“Well, you denying the facts here doesn’t change them, either. What happens when the patient refuses treatment because they reject your diagnosis?”

Jessica sighed, “They’ll most likely die.”

“So, there you go. What you do with that is up to you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Jess, I love you, but I have to take care of Kara and the kids the best way I can. I’ll help you in any way I’m able to with that in mind. We want you to stay.”

“I left you. For a second time.”

“Yes, and you came back. For a second time.”

“Not because I wanted to.”

“You know, in the end, I don’t care WHY you’re here, I just care that you ARE here. The kids need you here. I want you here.”

“Even if I don’t love you? Or Kara?”

“You read my journals, so I’m sure you read the section where I discussed Anala’s parents.”

“The arranged marriage?”

“Yes. They didn’t marry for love. And yet, over time, they grew to love each other deeply.”

“And you think that’s us?”

“It could be, if you were willing to try.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think I can.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. I had promised myself that I would remain calm, cool, and collected. Becoming visibly frustrated or sounding exasperated wouldn’t help at all.

“I don’t understand why you won’t try. It makes no sense. Will you keep seeing Doctor Green with us?”

“I was told to.”

“If you truly don’t want to work on finding a way to make SOMETHING work between the three of us, I’ll talk to Al Barton about it. But I will say that the kids need you, and finding SOME solution for the three of us is important.”

“And what would that look like?” Jessica asked.

“Be my friend, Jess. Can you do that? Just be my friend? And be Kara’s friend? It’s a start.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask for. And you’ll see Doctor Green with us?”

“Yes.”

“That,” I answered, “makes me very happy. I’ll leave you alone now, but I would encourage you to spend more time with the family, especially our kids.”

I stood and when Jessica didn’t respond, I left the ‘Indian’ room to find Kara and Michelle. I hadn’t really resolved anything, though I had conveyed to Jessica what I’d said to Doctor Green - that my goal was to make Kara happy, make sure the kids were loved, and then help Jess as best I could. Now I just had to figure out how to put it into action and balance everyone’s needs.

I found Kara and Michelle in the sunroom with the kids, and before I could say anything to either of the girls, the kids either asked to cuddle or play. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the floor playing board games and cuddling my daughters in turn.

“Daddy?” Birgit asked just before dinner.

“Yes, Pumpkin?”

“Can I have two boyfriends?”

“And here we go,” Elyse said sotto voce and with a quiet laugh.

“You could, but you have to tell both of them about it. Who?”

“Peter and Joey.”

I wondered what happened to Nicholas. I’d have to ask Abbie if she had an idea. The last thing I wanted to do was stir up trouble.

“Who’s Joey?”

“A boy at school! He’s Matthew’s friend!”

“As long as they both know that they aren’t your only boyfriend, that’s OK. But you can’t lie to them.”

“I promise!” she said.

After dinner, I had a chance to pull Abbie aside and ask her what happened between Birgit and Nicholas. According to Abbie, Nicholas and Stephie liked each other and Jesse had told Birgit to leave them alone. I was surprised that hadn’t caused a war between Jesse and Birgit, but Abbie said Birgit had simply let it go. I wondered about that. Birgit NEVER let things go! She might only be five, but she was pretty good at picking her battles, just as Jesse was. At some point, things would come to a head. They always did with her.

After the kids went to bed, I managed to get some time alone with Kara, and explained what I’d said to Jessica, and Jessica’s agreement to be friends.

“What does that mean?” Kara asked. “It doesn’t really resolve anything.”

“It’s a start,” I said. “Remember what I said about my priorities. Her coming back to the house is good for the kids, if nothing else. And she’s agreed to continue seeing Doctor Green with us. To me, those are major improvements over the situation before the accident.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “It’s just very frustrating.”

“I know, Honey. Let’s take things one day at a time. That’s really all we can do.”

“And Michelle?”

“Remember what I said about my priorities? Taking care of you and the kids. Making you happy, ensuring the kids are loved, and THEN doing what I’m able, within those constraints, to help Jessica. You know what Michelle wants, and you know what it means to accept what’s available. The more I think about this, the more I’m sure you and Michelle need to sort out your relationship and let me know what it is. I can adapt. And Jess has given her permission for whatever we want to do.”

“Actual consent? Or she’s just going to tolerate it.”

“Actual consent. It really is an issue between you and Jess, though. I’ve always had freedom. And I’ve always given you freedom. If either you or Jess would think it’s cheating, then it’s a problem. But that’s only an issue if you and Michelle are going to be together.”

“I don’t think so,” Kara said. “Not that way. Intimate, but not sexual. I can only be with Jess that way, well, could. Michelle and I could make love to you, but not to each other. I think.”

“Whatever you need, Honey. Why don’t you talk with Michelle? I’m going to go up to bed. I tire very easily these days. I’ll put on my pajamas so there aren’t any issues.”

Kara smiled, gave me a kiss, and when I went up to bed, she went to talk to Michelle.

November 28, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

“You were sound asleep when we came up,” Kara said on Sunday morning as she helped me shower.

“I was beat,” I said. “Jogging all week and karate yesterday just wore me out. It’ll get better, but having what amounted to a three-week break from all serious exercise really took a toll, not to mention the injuries.”

“Michelle went downstairs to make breakfast. She asked if we were going to church with her.”

“I don’t really want to make a weekly habit of it,” I said. “What do you think?”

“I feel the same way. I’m happy to go sometimes, but not regularly. I told her probably not because of how tired you were last night. We both woke up before you which is very odd.”

I nodded, “I’ll mention it to Al tomorrow afternoon when I go for my checkup. I’m still only allowed half days.”

“I’m happy you’re following his direction.”

I smiled as we got out of the shower, “I don’t have the energy to fight with you.”

“Good,” Kara giggled.

“How did things go with Michelle last night?” I asked as we started dressing.

“I need to share something with you, but it has to stay between us for now.”

I smiled, “She’s torn about a long-term relationship with us because she can’t have a baby.”

Kara laughed, “I’m not surprised you’re aware of that.”

“It was always going to be an issue. There is literally nothing I can do to solve that one. If she wants a baby of her own, she’ll need to find another man. The problem is, she’s absolutely in agreement with you about only being with one man.”

“I forget you were intimate with her long before you made love with her. May I ask why you made love with her knowing all of this?”

“Michelle made the choice, Kara. Honestly, she was planning to go to the monastery and the point would have been moot. The problem arose when she decided she wanted to come home. She’s pretty much in the same place you were after our Year in the Wilderness. I think you can help her with that.”

“I can try. She would also like to make love with you, but she’s afraid to ask because of your injuries.”

“I know. I’ve just been so tired. Perhaps I’ll take a nap this afternoon.”

“I think that would be a good idea.”

November 29, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

“The x-rays look fine,” Al Barton said on Monday afternoon.

“What about me being so tired?” I asked.

“You’ve only been doing the exercise we’ve approved?”

“You know I am because I know you talked to Gina and my Sensei. And you also talked to Kara.”

“What is it you like to say?” Al asked with a smile. “‘Trust, but verify’? I think you need to take the rest of the week off work, and take morning and afternoon naps.”

“Seriously?” I sighed.

“Yes. You’re clearly not recovered from the concussion.”

“I thought it was mild,” I protested.

“It was, but you had a concussion ten years ago, and that can make it harder to recover from a second one.”

“What are you worried about, Al? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Post-concussion syndrome.”

“What’s the treatment?” I asked.

“Time. I want you to do nothing until next Monday except sleep, eat, and relax. Minimal physical activity, and nothing that requires you to concentrate; nothing at all.”

“What am I supposed to do? Watch soap operas? I’m going to go stir-crazy, Al!”

“Even so, you need to follow my instructions.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t, just that I didn’t like it.”

“OK. We’ll reevaluate you next Monday. I’ll call your karate instructor and Joyce. I’m guessing your dad will come back to Chicago.”

“Probably, but I’ll leave that up to him. Kimmy will check my emails and respond to anything urgent on my behalf.”

“Good. How are things with Jessica?”

“That reminds me, we have our counseling sessions with Doctor Green on Wednesdays. Should we cancel this week?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“OK. Jess agreed to be friends with Kara and me, talk to us, and to spend time with the kids and the rest of the family. At the moment, I think that’s the best we can do.”

Al sighed, “Probably. Is she going to her counseling?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how much good it will do until she lets someone through that armor she wears.”

“One step at a time.”

“I know. OK for me to walk home?”

“Yes, but take your time, please. Don’t rush.”

“Thanks, Al.”

We shook hands and I walked slowly home, where I would be incarcerated for the next week.

December 4, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

“How are you feeling, Son?” my dad asked on Saturday morning.

“Better, I think,” I said. “It’s difficult to tell because all I’m doing is sitting in either my bedroom or study during the day and the great room or sunroom otherwise. I’m taking two naps a day, going to bed early, and getting up late. But last week I was tired all the time. Now I’m not tired, but I’m sleeping probably twice the total hours I was before.”

“Your next checkup is on Monday afternoon?”

“Yes, but I can’t imagine I’ll be allowed back to work next week. I talked to Jessica and she said the next step would be two short walks each day. If that doesn’t make me tired then I can probably work half-days. My real concern is my trips to LA and Pittsburgh. But that’s still a couple of weeks away. I think Al will allow it, so long as all I do is go to the dinner party each time. But I promise to talk to him.”

“You’re handling this pretty well, considering.”

“I was so tired after three days of work and Thanksgiving that I couldn’t argue with Al; I didn’t have the energy. What happened with the Pittsburgh sales rep?”

“Cindi hired Janelle Brooks. You saw both candidates and didn’t issue a veto.”

“And the consultants?”

“We don’t have a choice. Charlie, on my approval, made her hires. Brad Nesmith and Sherry Tate in Chicago and Jan Mason in Denver.”

I nodded, “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

“We’d have lost the contracts, Son.”

“I know. I didn’t say I was upset, I just said I didn’t like it. Consulting is far too lucrative to pass up, though I did forbid Cindi from expanding outside any cities we’re currently in.”

“She and Charlie raised that issue with me. I think you’re wise to hold off on that until next summer, at the earliest, given that you just hired four people.”

“Anything else you’re allowed to tell me?”

My dad laughed, “Al was pretty clear, but there was one call for you that I think you need to know about. A reporter from the Trib called for you.”

“Stan Jakes?”

“No, Maureen Kingsley.”

I sighed, “Did she say what she wanted?”

“No. Who is she?”

“She writes the society column and ‘human interest’ stories. She wanted to run an exposé on me, but the editors apparently killed the story. I’m guessing Bill Clinton took the heat off.”