Chapter 5: Adjusting

I woke up feeling more rested than I had since the accident. The Accident. I might as well say since the time my life fell apart. Since my world ended. Funny how we play with words to make them less meaningful. She's in a family way. She fulfilled her wifely duties. The accident.

I woke up feeling more rested than I had since I lost the lover I'd been pursuing for the past few years.

What Sam had started and Nancy had finished had felt good. Beyond good. I needed that feeling. Oh, the climax was out of this world. But the compassion, the tenderness, the love that I felt throughout the whole incident was what I needed. And I have to admit, the adoration, too.

I went into the bedroom next to mine. There was Wes, encased in plaster. Sam had cut his hair and shaved his face. He didn't know I was there. He didn't care that I'd let others touch me. My brother had deserted me. And I honestly didn't think he was going to come back.

I sat there. Looking at him with tears streaming down my face. Yes, I felt sorry for myself. I also felt sorry for us.

Sam wasn't in the room. From what I'd seen and heard, this was unique. She'd been with him practically every second since she ran out of the kitchen the minute he was run over.

She'd told me she loved him. I thought we could share him, with me getting the major part of his love, Sam getting the leftovers. She'd staked her claim. Nobody could look at her when she was in the room with Wes and not know he was her man.

I didn't feel that she'd stolen him from me. She was willing to gamble on his coming back, waking up. And that when he awoke, he would go to her, not into my arms. Her love was that strong. I actually envied her, wishing I could love somebody with that much intensity, that much devotion, that much faith. As much as it saddened me to admit it, I was too devoted to me and what I wanted to make the sacrifices Sam had.

It was just after 11 at night. I moved closer and stroked my brother's cheek with the back of my hand. He even felt lifeless. His skin wasn't alive. Not quite a mannequin, but similar.

Sam had washed his hair. It felt smooth and silky. But it wasn't the hair I'd run my fingers through and grabbed when he'd made me come.

I stood and put the chair back under his desk. I went back to the bed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodbye, my love. Wherever you are."

I walked out of the room and turned off the light. I felt a loss but there was also a little relief mixed in with it.

Mom's door was open. I looked inside. She was curled on her side, her arms wrapped around Jaz. Oh, Jaz. If only you were a few years older.

Much as I wanted to, I didn't wake Mom to get me something to eat. I felt proud of myself.

I made my way to the top of the stairs and grabbed hold of the banister. Two hands. I felt good walking down the stairs. I lifted my right arm off and walked as if I was a normal person. I would put my right foot out and down to the next step. Then the left would go to the same step. All the way down. I vowed to take them two at a time within a week.

I got down to the bottom and sat down to catch my breath. Boy, I can't even walk down my own stairs without getting tired. Time to get out of bed and get some exercise.

I went into the kitchen and checked it out for snacks. There was one piece of Mom's chocolate cake left. She makes the best cake. Nope. What goes in has to come out. No cake yet.

I opened up the refrigerator. One thing about Dad being out of the house, he wasn't going to yell at me for keeping the door open and cooling the whole god damn house.

There was a bowl of hard boiled eggs. No thanks.

A chunk of sharp cheddar cheese, still in the wrapper. Oh, boy. Wes and I would sit down after school and go through that stuff like candy. Or watch TV and slice it real thin and have it on saltines. But I didn't need any cheese binding up my system.

Grape juice. That should be OK. I poured a glass and sipped it while I checked out the rest of the refrigerator.

Left over turkey. Nope. Meat loaf. Oh, God. Mom makes the best meat loaf. OK. Just a little slice.

Way in the back. A bowl covered with tinfoil. I pulled it out. Mom's specialty, Jaz's favorite. I remember eating this all the time as a kid. Mom would make regular egg noodles and then stir in canned tomatoes and cook the whole thing for a few minutes. Nothing fancy, but all us kids loved noodles and tomatoes. The trick was to take the big tomato pieces and squish them before putting them in with the noodles. I emptied some in a saucepan.

I put the saucepan on the stove on a low flame. I didn't want to turn on the oven for one slice of meatloaf. I dug around in the pots and pans and found a strainer that would fit over the top of the saucepan. I set it over the noodles and tomatoes and put the meatloaf inside. I even found a lid that would cover the whole thing. Kind of a home made food steamer.

I got some more juice and sat down at the table to wait for my food to warm up. I saw something on the floor, sticking out from under the bench. I reached down to pick it up.