Chapter 4: Another Way To Love

Well, the ambulance pulled into our driveway and they opened the back doors and got me out. I almost felt like throwing up when I saw the dark stain on the grayish asphalt of the road. It looked like someone had tried to clean up Wes' blood but it had left its mark.

Mom pulled up and had to park in the street, her car blocking my view of the accident's remains. The two attendants were able to muscle me up the stairs and into my room. It's not real easy to carry a wheelchair up a flight of stairs. And it's no fun being the one in the wheelchair they're carrying.

They put me down in my room and went back downstairs. I was alone in the room with its memories.

There, on my headboard was the ribbon I'd wrapped around my waist with the bow big enough to cover me. I'd had it on when Wes came back to me after an argument that made me think he was going to leave me forever. He tried to undo the bow but couldn't and had to shove it down my body before making fierce love to me. We fell asleep after and Wes woke me with his tongue.

Next to the bed was the night table with the Jiminy Cricket hat I got when I was 6. It had just sat there for eight years since we got back from Disneyland until Wes used the ribbon to blindfold me and the feather to drive me to places I couldn't even imagine before that.

My chair, waiting patiently for Wes to sit in and put me over his knee for another deserved spanking.

And on top of my dresser sat my birth control pills, untouched since the day before the accident. I'd have to ask my doctor about that.

Mom came in the room and saw the tears on my face. She leaned over and gave me a hug, or at least as good a hug as you can give someone in a wheelchair.

"I know how it is, Baby. I'm sure I'll feel the same way when I have to go in my room. All we can do is pray for him to get better."

Mom turned down the sheets as Nancy and the doctor got me out of the wheelchair and sat me on the edge of the bed. He left so they could get me into a nightgown and into bed.

I had mixed feelings about my doctor. I'd found out that if he hadn't been there, Wes would probably have gotten the kidney transplant but they would have just done what they could to stabilize his legs and back until he was fully healed from the operation. At that point they would have had a much more difficult time doing anything with his legs, possibly needing to break them again so they could heal properly. And the chances of his walking afterward were almost zero. It looked like Wes had a pretty good shot at walking again, at least with the aid of crutches or a cane. Provided he woke up.

Doctor Bradley had a unique attitude towards life. He seemed to embrace it, diving into any situation with both hands, grabbing everything he could. He thought nothing of making a complete fool of himself and people loved him for it. And he cared. About everybody. You could see the looks on everyone's face as he was around them. They would sacrifice just about anything for him if he asked it. Half the women I saw would bed him in an instant if given the chance.

Lord knows he took care of me and my brother. We got treated like royalty, not only by him but by everyone else, simply because he expected it. Even the other doctors and the administrators made an effort I don't think they normally would have when he was around. I know he had to fight to get the team he needed to operate on both Wes and me and do all the operations at once on Wes but they all seemed to be glad they'd done it after it was all over.

One thing that bothered me was that one of the women who had fallen under his spell was my mother. And she'd already kicked my father out of the house.

I know, my father was pretty much out already, pretending to be on business trip after business trip when he was really shacking up with his secretary. And the latest word was she was expecting a baby, either a step- sister or brother to me and my brothers.

And the good doctor wasn't taking advantage of the situation. Hell, he could have had her countless times in the hospital or right after they got me into my bed. But his morals, code of honor, ethics, whatever you want to call it wouldn't allow him to do anything. You could tell by just looking at him how much he wanted Mom and there was no doubt she was more than willing. But he insisted that everything be done properly. Kicking Dad out of the house and even filing for divorce wasn't going to be enough. He was going to wait until she and Dad were actually divorced before he was going to touch her. And I had a pretty good idea he was going to make damn sure they were both in love with each other before he took her to bed. He just wasn't interested in playing catch for a woman on the rebound.

The big thing that bothered me is that I knew he saw right through me. I'd made a career of getting my way. I was something special and I knew it. And I expected to be treated that way.

The first time I saw him we were in an examination room. He'd just gotten through his initial examination of Wes. I found out later he'd already removed the damaged kidneys and my brother was already on borrowed time.

He first looked at Mom and there was an instant of pure lust. If he'd attacked her right then I wouldn't have been surprised. This changed to a look of adoration, almost like a puppy. I've seen some of that look in his face ever since that first meeting every time he looks at her.

He checked out Sam. I saw a slight smile on his face. Not a smile that said he was attracted to her, even though it was obvious he was to some extent. No, this was more of a smile of acceptance, of reassurance and an indication that he was aware she knew who she was and what she wanted and he was happy for her.

Then he looked at me. I swear to God, for that second or two our eyes met I felt naked. As if he could see through me. At that point I knew exactly how he saw me — as a selfish little girl, too used to getting her own way with nothing more than a beautiful body to show for herself. It wasn't long before I was telling him to use my kidney for Wes. I don't know that his look was the reason but I don't know that it wasn't, either.

I honestly don't know why I did it. To do something Mom and Sam couldn't so I'd be more important? For all the times he'd taken care of me when I was hurt? To show this smart ass doctor he was wrong? Because I didn't want to live if Wes wasn't going to be there for me? I still look at that moment in time and the closest I can come is it was an impulsive decision I made. I don't know if I'll ever be able to figure out why I really did it.

These thoughts all ran through my mind as he came into my room and told me he was proud of me. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. And at that point none of it seemed to matter. I knew he was there for me, no matter who I was.

You wouldn't think that being pushed and carried around in a wheelchair would wear someone out, but it sure did me. I was exhausted. Mom brought a glass of water in and set in on the nightstand so I could reach it. Nancy suggested that I raise up a bit so she could put a pillow under the scar where they'd removed my kidney. I lay back down and must have fallen asleep because that's the last thing I remember for a while.

The next few days are all a jumble to me. I'd fall asleep in the middle of the day and be wide awake at night. I know I drove Mom crazy. I'd get hungry at night and make her get up and fix me something. I got bored and expected her to do something about it. What I expected, I have no idea, but I know I really ran her ragged.

Saturday afternoon the cheer squad showed up at the house. They'd gone to the hospital and found I was gone. Wes was still in his coma, of course, and they tried to talk to Sam. I guess she was in a real "mother hen" mood and nothing was good enough for her and she wouldn't let them talk too loud or get too close to Wes. They finally gave up and came over to my house.

They actually stopped going in to see Wes after that. They'd spend time with me. I noticed a lot of the time it was right about lunch or dinner time and Mom would end up feeding them as well as the three of us.

Nancy had been a godsend. She came by on Sunday while they were in my room, drinking cokes and eating chips they'd had Mom get for them, lounging around, being sponges. Nancy said she was going to change my bandages and they needed to leave. She wasn't the sweetest person in the world when she said it, but she wasn't rude about it, either. Like a nurse would have. The girls weren't happy they had to get off their butts and Stacy called her a bitch under her breath.

I tore into the lot of them. I told them this was bullshit. Here Nancy spent a good part of her day changing my sheets, taking me to the bathroom, washing me, changing my dressing and all they could do was lay around mooching food off my mom and complain about everybody else. Stacy came up to Nancy and apologized to her for calling her a name. They all filed out of the room with their heads down and Mom told me later they helped her hang up some clothes and do the dishes.

When the cheer squad was visiting me in the hospital, there was a big discussion about Nancy liking girls. Nobody had any proof, but there were lots of rumors and she never dated. She hadn't done anything since I'd known her to give me an opinion one way or the other.

She actually seemed overly cautious when she was working on me. She had to change the dressing on my scar a couple of times a day. This meant rolling me over on my stomach and lifting my nightgown up to my waist. I had no underpants on so my butt was right there in front of her face. She was always very professional in working with the bandage, never seeming to pay any attention to the rest of my body.

She gave me a bath of sorts each day. She'd bring in a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. She'd pull the sheets off me and raise my nightgown up to my neck, then give me the washcloth. I'd wash my front, between my legs and my butt. Nancy would do my legs, arms and back. It was always done efficiently but it seemed... I don't know... professional.

That all changed on Tuesday. Wes had been brought home earlier. I saw them bring him past my room on a stretcher. Mostly plaster with just his head visible. The parade walked by as I lay in my bed. The ambulance guys with the stretcher and Wes, Sam, Mom, Doctor Bradley. A few minutes later they all left except Sam and my brother.

It must have been 20 minutes later when I heard Wes calling out. Something like a moan but it sounded like he was trying to say something. Sam came running out of his room and down the stairs. The next thing I heard was the three of them running back up the stairs and into Wes' room.

A couple of minutes later Dr. Bradley came out of his room and into mine. "I thought you might like to know what was going on with your brother."

"Thanks. I would."

"Well, he just made some kind of involuntary noise. He's still pretty much the same as he was in the hospital."

"It sounded like he was trying to talk."

"I'm not going to argue with you on that. We hardly know anything about comas. Who knows how aware he is. And I don't find it surprising that he might have something to say after being in a coma for almost a week."

I didn't realize it but most of the time we'd been talking he was examining me. He held one of my eyelids open and shined a light in my eye. "So, have you got any questions for me?"

"When can I have some real food?"

"Oh, I think you start getting some solid food whenever you want. But don't go overboard. Do you remember how much it hurt to pee after we removed the catheter?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't think I'll forget that very soon."

"Well, this will be worse." He went through some tips on what I could and shouldn't do as far as food was concerned. "Remember, whatever you put in is going to have to come out."

I reached up and we gave each other a hug.

"I bet you're getting pretty tired of being in this bed, aren't you?"

"God, yes. I've been to the bathroom a few times a day, but that's all."

"Well, you're starting to get pale and fat. I think you should get Sam to take you out in the back yard and let you lay out in the sun for awhile. If you can't make it back up the stairs right away when you come back in, lie down on the couch for a bit. No marathons, but you need to get up and move around. Maybe you can get Sam to take a hose to your hair and wash some of the crud out of it."

"Really? I can wash my hair? Thank you doctor." I reached up for another hug. When he leaned over I kissed him right on the lips. He had a smirk on his face as he pulled away.