Chapter 6: What doesn’t kill you

That early December weekend began the confirmation of the love affair between Gabrielle and me. If there had been any doubt beforehand, there was none now. By Christmas we had moved in together. We made no secret of our relationship. I phoned Rex to make sure he was aware of our decision and while he was surprised and wondered how this had all come about so soon, he had no objection. I knew what he was thinking ... if for some reason our affair came to a crashing end ... but I was confident that couldn’t possibly happen.

Since Georgette Smith had at least some hand in putting us together, Gabrielle had no concerns about revealing just how successful the plot between the two of them had worked. Well, perhaps plot was too strong a word, but there was little doubt the two were co-conspirators. Now, I could hardly complain, could I?

Winter in the East Bay can be unpredictable. Snow was highly unlikely; but cold, drizzly rain wasn’t. None of the weather we encountered stopped us from our usual Saturday morning run. If there was a downpour, we would wait it out until it slacked off, lying in bed and enjoying each other’s company in the meantime. Otherwise, dressed for the climate, we developed several different routes to keep ourselves from becoming bored. Typically, we ran between five and seven kilometers, our pace depending on what was comfortable for us.

What ever the circumstances, we always waited until daylight as I had an aversion to running in the dark on city streets. It was mid-February and I had just returned from one of my grueling week-long trips to Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. It wasn’t often that I would attempt to combine all three locations in the same week, but that was the case this past week.

I was feeling good, back home with Gabrielle in what was her apartment. The larger kitchen was the deciding factor on where we would live. I happily shared the cooking and cleaning duties with her, which earned me some good-guy points.

We were running north on a side street only a couple of blocks from the apartment when I felt something or someone collide with me from behind and knock me into the roadway. A parked pickup truck put an abrupt end to my fall, my head hitting the edge of the box side. I heard Gabrielle scream, and then someone calling “asshole” as I had a vague look at a guy riding away down the sidewalk on a bike.

I was dizzy and disoriented at first, aware of Gabrielle by my side holding me. There was blood coming from my head where I had hit the side of the truck and an excruciating pain in my left knee. She tried to get me to stand, but even with the help of a bystander, I was unable to put any weight on my left side.

“What happened?” I asked as I continued to struggle to get to my feet.

A man I didn’t recognize was helping Gabrielle and said, “It was one of those damned courier guys hit you when he tried to go between you and this lady. He had no business riding on the sidewalk. I saw the name of the company,” the man said. “It was Comet Couriers.”

“Are you all right, Gabrielle?”

“Yes ... I think so. He just brushed by me, but he hit you hard. Wait!” she exclaimed, “Here’s a police car. Let me get their attention.”

The man continued to help me stay upright while she waved at the patrol car. They stopped and Gabrielle approached them, apparently explaining what had happened. I wasn’t out of earshot, but my head and knee were giving me a lot of pain and I couldn’t concentrate on anything except getting some relief.

The next thing I knew, the officers were helping me into the patrol car and with Gabrielle beside me, we were whisked off to a hospital. We arrived at the emergency entrance and Gabrielle thanked the officers as they rounded up a wheelchair and pushed me into the receiving area. We were fortunate that it wasn’t busy, and within a few minutes I was processed and pushed into an examination cubicle.

“Who was that guy who helped us?” I asked.

“I got his name and he gave it to the police as a witness. He also gave them a rough description of the guy that hit you. Thank goodness for concerned citizens,” she added as she sat by me, holding my hand while we waited for a doctor to appear.

The doctor came shortly afterward and helped me up onto the examination table.

“You have a nasty cut on your temple, Mr. Richter, but my larger concern is your knee. Your knee has suffered considerable damage to the ligaments by the look of it. We’ll take some x-rays and see what the situation is, but first I want to deal with your head wound. I’m going to give you a shot for your pain and it will make you drowsy, so don’t be surprised if you fall asleep. That might be the best thing for you right now.”

“Thank you,” I managed as I waited for the nurse at his side to administer the shot. Anything to take away the pain would be welcome.

“I’ll be right here with you, Kyle,” a worried Gabrielle assured me.

“Thank you, my love. I’m sorry about this. I hope it doesn’t ruin your weekend.”

“I don’t care about my weekend. I care about you and getting you back to good health. I’m not going anywhere until I know what the situation is.”

I must have lost consciousness at that point because I don’t remember anything beyond her comment. When I awoke, I took stock of my surroundings. I was in a two bed room with another patient who was hidden behind a fabric screen. My head was bandaged, but I could still feel the impact of the bang it took. I looked down and saw a much larger lump under my left leg. I lifted the sheet and saw a very large bandage wrapped around some kind of splint, running from mid-thigh to mid calf. I didn’t like the look of that.

I must have drawn the attention of Gabrielle, who was sitting at the head of my bed on the other side. I turned my head, immediately feeling dizzy, then focused on her.

“Hi,” I said weakly.

“Hi, yourself,” she smiled, leaning over and kissing me. “How are you feeling?”

“Lousy. My head hurts and I feel dizzy when I move it. And I’ve got some kind of splint on my leg. I don’t like what I’m seeing, Gabrielle.”

“Rest, my love. The doctors are going to take care of your injuries. Your doctor should be along on his afternoon rounds and can bring us both up to date on your status.”

She had taken my hand and the warmth and care I saw in her face helped me calm down. I was feeling the effects of the pain medication, and wondered if that was what was making me feel dizzy when I moved. I wasn’t in a very talkative mood, but it didn’t faze my lady. She sat quietly holding my hand, watching me.

I don’t know how long it was before a doctor came into the room, checking on the other patient first before approaching me.

“How are you feeling now, Mr. Richter,” he asked, putting a cold stethoscope chestpiece on me.

“Dizzy when I move. Still some pain in my head. I can’t feel my leg at all. I had to look to make sure it was still there.”

That brought a chuckle from him. “I’m Doctor Szmanski. We’ve x-rayed your knee and to be honest, the damage is considerable. We’ve scheduled you for surgery first thing Monday morning. We have an excellent orthopedic team that will do it’s best to reconstruct your knee.”

“What’s the chances of a full recovery?” I asked.

“I doubt you’ll be running any time soon. Your patella ... the knee cap ... is damaged and there may be a crack in the lower part of your femur. You must have been hit very hard. You have a deep bruise on the outside of your knee where you were struck.”

“You mean, I might not be able to run ... ever?” I asked, almost fearing to hear him confirm it.

“That’s a possibility. It’s too soon to know. Monday will tell the tale. However, despite all the damage, you’ll certainly be able to walk and continue your normal day-to-day mobility. I suspect you will be a candidate for a full knee replacement sometime in the future, but that’s a premature guess on my part.”

I was not encouraged. It was not good news and I knew Gabrielle understood the significance. I felt her squeeze my hand when the doctor delivered the unhappy prospect.

“Don’t worry, Kyle. They’re going to make you better. They’re going to put you back together so that we can still do many of the things that are in our plans.”

I didn’t respond to Gabrielle’s encouragement. I wondered how long I was going to be off work before I could return. I wondered what other affects these injuries would have. I had a dark feeling about what I was facing in the next weeks and months.

Sunday afternoon Gabrielle and I had a visit from a Hayward police officer.

“Mr. Richter, I’m detective Paul Gallagher. I’ve been assigned to your case. We are treating it as a hit-and-run vehicular offense. We’ve identified a possible suspect and I was wondering if you’d be able to make a positive ID from a photograph?”

“I don’t think so. It happened so fast and I was hit from behind, so I didn’t really see him,” I admitted.

“I saw him,” Gabrielle said immediately.

“And who are you, ma’am?”

“I’m Gabrielle Lamont and I was with Kyle when he was hit. I saw the man on the bike look back at Kyle and swear at him. I’m pretty sure I can identify him if I saw him again. I gave this information to the officer at the scene.”

I saw the officer smile at her and reach into a file. He handed her several photographs. “Can you identify any of these men?”

Gabrielle looked at the photos one at a time, then picked one out of the group. “This is him. I’m sure of it.”

“Excellent. That’s very helpful ma’am. We have this man in custody at present. You’re probably not aware that each courier for their company has a GPS locator on their bike. The company was able to confirm that this individual was on or near that location when the accident occurred. When we approached him, he was very hostile and uncooperative. We attempted to hold him for questioning when he resisted and attempted to assault an officer. When we ran a check on him, he has priors for assault and drug offenses.”

“I guess that’s going to make it easier to prosecute him,” I suggested.

“Yes ... I’m sure you’re right. Thank you for your help and I hope you get well soon. I’ll get your names and addresses for any further follow up. I doubt this will go to court other than for sentencing. I can almost hear the defense attorney trying to set up a plea deal,” he smiled. “He won’t have much to bargain with.”

“Good to know. I’m not feeling very charitable about this guy. I’d hate to think that it might easily have been Gabrielle that was run down. Thanks for handling this so quickly.”

“You’re welcome. I hope your recovery goes well,” he smiled as he left.

I sighed in relief. “God, I’m glad you’re here,” I said, kissing her hand. “I hope they give this guy some serious time. I didn’t realize he looked around and swore at me.”

“Yeah ... I wasn’t the only one who heard him. I gave the police officer on the scene a description of him. Also, the man who helped you saw him as well, so it won’t just be me who can identify him.”

“That’s about the only good thing that came from this,” I said.

When I came out of the anesthetic early Monday afternoon, I remembered where I was and why. I could see the tent over my left leg and knew that the operation was over. But what was the result? What was the prognosis? I was alone in the recovery room. The surgeon, Doctor Hailwood, had explained what he was going to do before the anesthesiologist put me out, but damned if I could remember what he said.

I wasn’t feeling any pain, but I was drowsy and had an uneasy feeling in my gut. I closed my eyes once more and drifted off. The next thing I remembered was a soft kiss on my lips. I struggled to wake and as my eyes focused, I saw Gabrielle and smiled. I hadn’t smiled much in the last few days. I had a feeling of dread that my life was going to be turned upside down before this whole episode was over.