“We should probably order pizza pretty soon,” I said later that evening, looking at the time on my phone. It was past six o’clock, which meant our dinner wouldn’t be delivered until almost seven.
Sitting next to me on the couch, Natalie nodded. “When Dawn comes back downstairs, we can ask her what kind she wants.”
Dawn had gone up to check on Mason, who had been in bed for the past few hours. When she didn’t return right away, I wondered if he had woken up. I was just starting to worry when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
“There you are,” I said, smiling as Dawn appeared in the doorway. “How’s Mason?”
“Still asleep,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “I felt his forehead; his fever didn’t seem any higher than before.”
“Good,” I replied, relieved. “We were just talking about ordering pizza. What toppings do you want?”
Dawn grimaced. “Actually, I think I’d better pass on the pizza. I’m not feeling too great myself.”
“Oh no!” Natalie cried. “I hope you’re not getting whatever Mason has.”
“Me too, but judging by the way my stomach’s rumbling right now, it wouldn’t surprise me,” Dawn said with a sigh. “If you don’t mind, Kevin, I’m gonna go lie down.”
“No problem. Nat’s got the night routine covered,” I replied, putting my arm around her.
“I know she does. Thanks, Natalie.” Dawn flashed her a grateful smile. “You two should go out for a nice dinner like we talked about. Don’t feel like you have to stay here and order pizza because of Mason and me. I’ll be upstairs if he needs anything.”
“Oh, no, Dawn, I wouldn’t want you to have to worry about taking care of him when you’re not feeling well yourself,” I said, frowning.
“We’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Seriously, go celebrate! I’m going to bed.”
“Feel better!” I called as she turned to go back upstairs. After she left, I looked at Natalie. “What do you wanna do about dinner?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you wanna do. It’s your birthday, babe. You decide!”
After much debate, we finally decided to go out for Mexican food, which felt more festive than eating pizza at home. I made Dawn promise to call me if she or Mason got worse and needed us to come home, knowing she wouldn’t unless it was an emergency.
“So, what do you do when Dawn’s sick and I’m not here?” Natalie asked as I drove us to the restaurant. “I mean, she does get days off, right?”
“Of course,” I replied. “In that case, I call my mom or one of my brothers to help out. If Dawn were going to be gone or out of commission for more than a few days, I would get someone from the home healthcare agency to fill in for her. Thankfully, now that Mason’s older and more independent, I really only need an attendant first thing in the morning and right before I go to bed at night. The rest of the day, I would be fine at home alone with him.”
“That’s one of the reasons you don’t want to live in L.A. full-time, right? No family around to help?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t easy to find and keep a reliable caregiver out there. I went through quite a few of them the first year after the accident, when Mason was a baby. We were lucky to have Nick and AJ live with us for a few months, but that was never going to be more than a temporary situation. We have a much better support system here in Lexington.”
“Well, at least now you’ll have me when you go out there.” Natalie looked over at me with a smile, resting her hand on my right leg.
I was happy that she had agreed to give living together in L.A. a chance. I hoped we would be able to make it work, although I still wasn’t sure exactly how.
We discussed the logistics during dinner. “It’s just going to take some pre-planning,” said Natalie as she picked up her taco. “I live month to month. I never know what days I’ll be working or where I’ll be flying until I get my schedule for the next month, but if I know where you’ll be, I can keep that in mind when I’m making my bids to try to maximize our time together.”
“I still don’t fully understand the whole ‘bidding’ thing you have to do,” I admitted, shaking my head as I filled my fork with refried beans. “It sounds complicated.”
“It is complicated,” she said, giggling. “That’s why we have a computer system to set up our schedules.”
I swallowed a mouthful of beans, washing them down with a sip of my margarita. “Yeah, but why can’t you just keep the same schedule every month? Wouldn’t that be a lot easier? I mean, Delta’s daily flight schedules don’t change that much from month to month, do they?”
“It would be easier, sure, but it would also be boring.” Natalie wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t become a flight attendant to travel to the exact same cities every month. I have my favorites, of course, but I love taking different trips and discovering new places I’ve never been before. Some senior flight attendants do hold the same lines month after month, but that’s by choice, usually because they have children they want to be home with as much as possible. I just have Colby, so I can afford to be more flexible.”
I had almost forgotten about her cat. “Hey, speaking of Colby,” I said, clearing my throat. “What are you gonna do with him? He’s welcome to come to L.A., too, of course, but what if you have to be away while I’m back here? Who’s gonna take care of him?”
Natalie nodded as she took a sip of her margarita. “Well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Right now, I’m lucky to have a roommate to watch Colby while I’m gone. But if I didn’t have Sarah, I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t just bring him to work with me, but I also couldn’t leave him in L.A. unless I hired a pet sitter or boarded him whenever we were both gonna be out of town for multiple days at a time, which would be hard on Colby and my wallet.”
I considered her dilemma as I chewed my quesadilla. “You could leave him here in Lexington with me. I don’t think Dawn’s much of a cat person, but I wouldn’t mind having one around the house again – and I’m sure Mason would love him! He’s old enough to learn how to help me take care of a pet; it’d be a good way to teach him about responsibility. And I could get my mom to come over and feed Colby while we’re out of town.”
Natalie smiled. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to offer, and I may take you up on it someday. But, for now, I’ve decided to keep renting my apartment in Atlanta. Our lease isn’t up for renewal until next year anyway, and I wouldn’t wanna leave Sarah in a lurch by leaving without giving her plenty of notice to find a new roommate,” she explained. “Colby can stay there, and it’ll be my crash pad when I’m commuting back and forth. I’m not sure I should apply for a base transfer to L.A. while you’re spending most of your time in Lexington… but if things continue to go well for us, I’d be willing to reconsider my living situation in a few months.”
“So you’d be sort-of moving in with me… but only on a trial basis?” I said, trying to make sense out of what she was telling me.
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. You understand, right? It’s a big deal to change bases and move clear across the country, far away from all my family and friends. It meant a lot to me to be able to transfer to Atlanta after my probationary period ended; I started my career flying out of Boston. And L.A. is one of the more senior-level bases; I’d be a lot lower on the seniority list there, which means I’d probably go back to having ‘A days’ on my schedule – those are our reserve days, when we’re on-call and have to be ready to fly anywhere. I haven’t had to do A days in years.”
“I see,” I said, nodding. “When you put it like that, I guess it does make more sense for you to stay based in Atlanta for now, even if it means you’ll have to commute. But if you change your mind, I meant what I said before: Colby’s always welcome here, just like his momma.”
Natalie smiled. “Thanks, Kevin.” She took another bite of her taco, and I helped myself to more of my quesadilla. As I chewed, she swallowed and said, “Hey, so that was kinda awkward earlier, when Mason brought up his mom. It is hard for you to hear him talk about her that way?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me… and I want us to be able to talk openly about his mom, but… when he’s so blunt like that… yeah, it is hard.”
“I thought so.” Natalie offered me a sympathetic smile. “I saw the way your face changed when he said that about Padme.”
“It caught me off-guard,” I admitted. “Most of the time, I feel like I’ve gotten to a good place with the grief process, but sometimes, I still get triggered by little things like that.”
“That’s completely understandable, though – and normal,” said Natalie while I sipped my margarita. “Grief can be unpredictable. I’m sure it’s hard trying to help Mason deal with his loss, especially when his perspective is so different from yours.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” I said, nodding as I set down my drink. “He doesn’t remember Kristin, so he doesn’t miss her the same way I do. I think he misses the idea of her, of having a mom at home, but I’ve made sure he has mother figures in his life to help fill that void.”
“He’s not lacking in love; that’s for sure,” Natalie said with a smile. “You’ve done a great job raising him, and I can tell Dawn cares a lot about him, too.”
“She does. I think he fills the same void for her that she does for him,” I replied, thinking of Michael.
“It’s nice that they have each other.” Natalie picked up her fork. “On a related note, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, pushing the pile of rice around on her plate. “I’ve been wondering… if and when I were to start living with you and your family full-time, what kind of role would you see me taking on when it comes to Mason? I mean, if we were to get married in the future, I would be his stepmom…”
I perked up when I heard her say the M-word, happy to hear that I wasn’t the only one who had considered the possibility of us making a more long-term commitment to each other in the future.
“…but for now, while we’re just dating, I’m not sure exactly what I am or how hands-on you want me to be with him,” Natalie went on. “I worry I may have overstepped my bounds this morning by telling him he could have cake for breakfast, and-”
“Babe.” I cut her off before she could continue any further. “Please, don’t bring that up again. It’s over and done with at this point; let’s not keep rehashing it.”
“But I’m sure there will be other situations like it that pop up in the future. I just wanna be better prepared for how to handle that sort of thing next time,” she explained. “I’m obviously not a parent, and I know being an aunt is different from being a stepmother.”
Sensing her insecurity, I offered her a reassuring smile across the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong this morning, Natalie; I’m sorry for making you feel like you did. I appreciate you trying to make my birthday fun for everyone… and I also understand you wanting Mason to like you.”
“I do,” she admitted, “but I’m not sure he does. I mean, one minute, he’s smiling and laughing with me, and the next, he seems so… I dunno… distant. I have no idea how he really feels about me.”
“Kids can be fickle that way,” I said with a shrug, “but he does like you. He just doesn’t know you that well yet. You don’t have to bribe him with toys or cake to earn his trust, though. Just be yourself. Be kind… and consistent. He’ll come around eventually.”
She frowned as she put her fork down. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to buy his affection? Because I thought I was just being kind.”
“Of course, you were – being kind, that is,” I replied quickly, regretting my choice of words. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘bribe;’ I didn’t really mean it like that. But I also don’t blame you for wanting to score some points with him. I would probably feel the same way if you had a kid. I’m sure it’s a difficult position to be in, dating a single parent.”
“Was it hard for Dawn when she first moved in with you?” she asked, now fiddling with her drink.
“Yeah. In a way, I think she had it easier because Mason was so young, but we went through a period of adjustment, too. It was different, though, because I hired her to help me raise him, so I expected her to do some of the disciplining. I don’t expect you to discipline my kid – not at this point, anyway – but I also don’t want you to let him walk all over you or think he can do whatever he wants when he’s with you. That would only make things harder if we did get married down the road.”
Natalie nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you now. I wouldn’t wanna do anything to undermine you – or Dawn.”
“I appreciate you asking,” I said, smiling at her. “And, without getting into any specific situations, that’s the best advice I can give you when it comes to dealing with Mason. If you’re not sure about something in the future, just ask me first. Communication is key, right?”
“Of course,” she replied, smiling back. “But that goes both ways. If I make a mistake or a decision you disapprove of, I’d rather you let me know right away than be passive aggressive about it later.”
I felt my face heat up as I realized she was referring to the damn cake again. “Duly noted,” I said shortly, reaching for my drink. I drained the rest of the margarita in one long swallow.
“Can I bring you another, señor?” asked our waiter when he stopped by the table to take my empty glass.
I would have gladly ordered a second drink, but the sight of Natalie sitting across from me stopped me from doing so. “No, thank you. I have to drive.”
I saw the look of surprise flicker across the waiter’s face as his eyes dropped to my wheelchair. Clearly, he didn’t think I was capable of driving.
“Oh, c’mon, Kevin, you can have one more if you want,” Natalie chimed in. “It’s your birthday!”
“Ah, it’s your birthday, señor? Feliz cumpleaños!” The waiter smiled at me. “One more margarita, then, to celebrate?”
I forced a smile back. “Gracias. But no, I really shouldn’t.”
“Well, if he won’t have another one, I will.” Natalie flashed the waiter a bright smile. When he walked away, her smile faded into a slight frown. “Really, Kevin, one more drink won’t kill you.”
“Really? I wonder if that’s what the woman who killed my wife told herself before she got behind the wheel.”
I regretted letting those words tumble out of my mouth the moment I saw Natalie’s face turn red. “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes widening with a look of horror. “Of course, I wouldn’t want you driving drunk. But, you know, we could always take a taxi if we needed to.”
I should have accepted her apology and moved on, but for some reason, I felt agitated. “How many wheelchair-accessible taxis do you think there are in Lexington?” I asked her as blood and tequila rushed to my head. “We’re not in London or New York. It could take forever to find one that would pick us up.”
“Oh… I didn’t think about that,” she admitted.
“Well, I don’t have that luxury anymore. I have to think about things like that,” I said irritably. “Alcohol affects me differently than it used to, and if I have too much to drink, I can’t just hand over my keys and have you drive my truck home. And we can’t call Dawn, not when she and Mason are both home sick. So, please, don’t pressure me to have another drink like it’s not a big deal – because, for me, every goddamn thing’s a big deal.”
Natalie winced. “I’m sorry,” she said again in a small voice. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you. I just wanted you to relax and have fun on your birthday. Please forgive me?”
“You’re forgiven,” I said flatly, then shook my head as it occurred to me that I was the one trying to pick a fight. “I’m sorry, too; I dunno what’s wrong with me today.” I felt out of sorts all of a sudden, and I wasn’t sure it was just from the alcohol.
Natalie seemed to notice this, too. “Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “Your face is flushed.”
Reaching up to wipe my forehead with the inside of my wrist, I realized it was covered with sweat. I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. “I’m having a hot flash,” I said, forcing myself to laugh so she wouldn’t worry. I had been so focused on our conversation that I hadn’t paid attention to the signals my body was trying to send me, but something was clearly bothering me below my level of injury. “Not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or a full bladder – probably both. I should use the bathroom. Please excuse me.” I pushed myself back from the table. My head pounded as I rolled toward the restroom.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened. For all I know, it could have been while I was wrangling with the bathroom door, angling my chair in a way that allowed me to wedge one hand through the handle and pull it toward me without hitting my knees.
“Here, sir, let me help you,” I heard a voice behind me say as a younger man hurried over to hold the door open for me.
“Thanks,” I replied as I rolled past him, feeling older than forty-one. When did I start looking old enough to be called ‘sir’? I wondered, glancing up into the mirror as I entered the bathroom. I just happened to catch the look of disgust that crossed the guy’s face as he walked in behind me. As soon as the door swung shut, isolating us from the strong scent of cumin and onions that overpowered the dining room, I understood why. Suddenly, I was hit with a horrible, new smell. For a split second, I made eye contact with the other man in the mirror, and that was when it clicked: The smell was coming from me.
I watched my reflection’s already flushed face turn beet red as the other man stumbled backward, ducking out the same door he had just entered before I had a chance to ask for more of his help. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the bathroom, but that didn’t make me any less mortified. Oh god, I thought with horror as I hurried into the handicapped stall. Please, no…
It had been years since I’d had an accident in public. The diligence with which Dawn and I did my bowel program, every other day without fail, usually worked to prevent such a thing from happening. But I didn’t have to pull down my pants to know that it had happened – not that I could have done so without help anyway. I always kept an extra pair of underwear packed in my bag in case of emergencies, but I couldn’t put them on by myself while I was sitting in my chair.
What am I gonna do? I wondered with growing desperation. If Dawn were with me, I would have called her to come in and help me get cleaned up, but I didn’t want to subject Natalie to that, especially not during a date. We would just have to go home and deal with it there.
I went ahead and cathed myself as quickly as I could, trying to finish before I subjected some poor, other unsuspecting guy to the stench that had driven the first dude out. Then I unraveled a wad of toilet paper and did my best to wedge it under me to absorb as much of the mess as possible. I couldn’t see how bad it was, but, judging by the way it smelled, it couldn’t have been pretty. It was a good thing my seat cushion had a washable, waterproof cover.
Even after I finished doing as much damage control as I could manage on my own, I was afraid to leave the privacy of the men’s room. I wished there was some way to magically teleport myself straight to my own toilet instead of facing the humiliation of rolling back through the crowded restaurant and riding home with Natalie in my truck, smelling the way I did.
As I hid inside the stall, trying to figure out what I would say when I got back to the table, I heard the bathroom door open and a pair of footsteps walk in. I froze, hoping whoever it was would do their business quickly and get out. There was no way I was going to show my flaming red face while someone else was in the bathroom.
“Eww, it stinks in here!” a child’s voice announced. I pictured a little boy about Mason’s age.
“Shh!” a man quickly hushed him. “Over here. Just hurry up and go.”
Yes, please hurry, I pleaded silently as I sat there with my pulse racing and my head pounding, listening to the sounds of the little boy using the urinal.
“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” his father said after he flushed.
I waited while the water ran and the air dryer roared. Finally, the door opened and closed with a bang, and the bathroom fell blessedly silent again. I let out the breath I’d been holding with a low sigh of relief.
I stayed there for another minute or two, giving the man and boy plenty of time to get back to their table before I worked up the courage to follow them out. I washed my hands first, but I still felt shamefully unclean as I wheeled myself back to the table.
“You okay?” Natalie asked, giving me a look of concern as I parked my chair across from her. “I was getting worried about you.”
I shook my head, but before I had time to tell her what had happened, I heard music – loud, live music – and looked up to see a mariachi band making their way over to us. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the musicians gathered around our table, drawing the attention of everyone in the dining room as they played and sang me a birthday song in Spanish. I wanted to sink through the floor and disappear, but I had no choice but to fake a smile and wait for it to be over. My cheeks burned. All I could think was, I hope they can’t smell my mess.
“Gracias,” I forced myself to say when they finally finished the song. “Muy bien.” I bowed my head graciously, hoping they would go away, but then the waiter walked over with a big piece of tres leches cake. “Gracias,” I said again as he placed it on the table in front of me. “This looks great, but I’m so full… Is there any way we could take it to go?”
“Si, señor! Of course! Un momento.” He held up one finger, then hurried away.
Covering her mouth with her hand, Natalie giggled. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have told him it was your birthday. You could have fried an egg on your face!”
I eyed the full margarita sitting in front of her, which the waiter must have brought while I was in the bathroom. “You better finish that drink fast, babe. As soon as he comes back, we’re gonna ask for the check and get the hell out of here.”
Her smile faded. “You’re not okay, are you?” she asked, her forehead creasing with worry. “What’s wrong? Is it AD?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that serious, but I need to go home. Now.”
“But why? Are you not feeling well? Did something happen?”
I was surprised she hadn’t already figured out what had happened from the smell, but hopefully the scent of food was strong enough to disguise it for now. “Trust me,” I said flatly. “You don’t wanna know.”
“I do wanna know,” she insisted, leaning forward. “Babe, I’m worried about you!”
I sighed. “Fine. I had an accident, all right?” I muttered in a low voice, just loud enough for her to hear. “I need to go home and get cleaned up.”
I watched Natalie’s face change, her knitted brows rising as her worried expression transformed to one of sympathy. “Oh no… oh, you poor thing!” It took her a second or two to snap back into the cool-headed, quick-thinking flight attendant who had helped me out of a similar situation the day we’d met. “Why don’t you go on out to the truck and wait for me there? I’ll pay the bill – my treat for your birthday – and be out just as fast as I can.”
Normally, I would have protested her paying for my meal, but that night, I didn’t bother. “Okay… thank you,” I said, grateful to her for giving me a way to escape. I didn’t waste any more time, wheeling myself away from the table before the waiter or mariachi band came back.
In the privacy of my truck, I turned on the engine and rolled the windows down to let in as much fresh air as possible while I waited for Natalie. She came out ten minutes later, walking quickly across the parking lot. “Sorry,” she said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “That took longer than I thought it would. You okay?”
I didn’t even know how to answer that. “Let’s just go home,” I said, shifting the truck into gear.
The ride back to my house was awkward and silent. Natalie stared out her open window, letting the night wind whip through her long hair. I watched the road, wondering what I was going to do when I got home. I hoped Dawn was still awake to take care of it; I didn’t want my girlfriend to get stuck cleaning me up.
The house was dark when I pulled up in front of it, parking my truck at the top of the driveway. A single light had been left on for us downstairs. When we went inside, I headed straight for the elevator. “Stay down here,” I told Natalie as she started toward the stairs. “I’ll have Dawn help me.”
Natalie hesitated, one hand already on the banister. “What if she’s still not feeling well?”
“Just… stay down here,” I repeated more firmly as I rolled into the elevator.
When I exited on the second floor, I was relieved to find that she hadn’t followed me. The upstairs hallway was silent and empty. I wheeled myself past Mason’s closed door, resisting the temptation to peek in and check on him, and continued down the hall to Dawn’s room. Her door was also closed.
I raised my fist and rapped my knuckles lightly against it. “Dawn?” I called softly.
After a few seconds, I heard her croak, “Come in.” She didn’t sound good. I hated to bother her, but it was either that or resort to asking Natalie for help, which I would hate even more.
Hesitantly, I pulled down on the door handle and pushed the door open. By the light of a single lamp, I saw Dawn propped up in bed, already in her pajamas. Her TV was on, so I assumed she hadn’t been asleep. “Hey,” I said in a low voice as I rolled into her room. “How ya feelin’?”
She shook her head. “Not good. Whatever this stomach bug is that Mason brought home, it’s nasty business. I’ve been in and out of the bathroom all night – not that you needed to know that.”
I made a face. “Yeah… about that…”
Dawn gave me a pleading look. “Please don’t tell me you have it, too.”
“I felt fine until about half an hour ago…” Haltingly, I told her what had happened at the restaurant. When I got to the part about the mariachi band, Dawn couldn’t help but laugh. I probably would have laughed along with her if I wasn’t still sitting in my own mess.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t laugh; that sounds horrible! How mortifying that must have been for you.”
“Yeah. Anyway, can you help me get cleaned up?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Does that mean Natalie wouldn’t do it? Or you wouldn’t let her?”
I gave her a look. “You already know the answer to that. I don’t want her having to deal with this shit. Literal shit. I made her stay downstairs.”
Dawn sighed. “Lucky me. All right, fine… I’m coming…”
I felt even worse after watching her drag herself out of bed. “Sorry, Dawn,” I said quietly as she followed me down the hall to my room.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she replied dully. “It’s not your fault.” She dutifully put an absorbent pad down on my bed before she transferred me onto it and took off my pants. Dawn had always had a strong stomach, but, to my horror, I heard her start to retch as she removed my soiled underwear. “Be right back,” she choked. The next thing I knew, she was running into the bathroom.
I lay on the bed, listening helplessly to the sounds of her vomiting. Finally, the toilet flushed, and the faucet turned on. A full minute passed before Dawn staggered out, looking pale and clammy.
“Sorry,” she said hoarsely as she pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “It’s not you; it’s me. I’ve been nauseous all night. Told ya this bug is nasty.”
I wasn’t sure whether she was telling the truth or not. Either way, I felt terrible for triggering her nausea. “Go back to bed, Dawn,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Who’s gonna do it if I don’t? Are you gonna swallow your pride and let your girlfriend help you?”
What pride? I wanted to ask. I’d already lost my last shred of dignity at the Mexican restaurant, somewhere between the men’s room and the mariachi band. “If you wrap a wet wipe around my hand, I can probably reach back and-”
“No.” Her voice was flat but firm. “You’ll just smear it around and make an even bigger mess for me or Natalie to clean up. So, who’s it gonna be?”
I let out a sigh of resignation as I realized she was right. Only a selfish asshole would ask his obviously ill caregiver to clean up after him when there was another caring adult around who was perfectly capable of doing it. Like it or not, I was going to have to rely on Natalie. “Fine… I’ll call Nat. Can you grab my phone for me?”
Dawn fetched it from the pouch on my chair and put it in my hand. “I’ll be right down the hall. Have her come get me if she needs help,” she said before she left the room.
Reluctantly, I dialed Natalie’s number. “Kevin?” she answered, sounding confused. “Are you okay?”
“No. I… I need you.”
“I’ll be right up.” The call ended. I heard footsteps creaking on the stairs, and, a few seconds later, Natalie stuck her head through the doorway. “Where’s Dawn?” she asked as she walked into my room, looking around curiously.
“I sent her back to bed. She’s sick as a dog,” I said. “Look, I don’t wanna put you in an awkward position here, but… would you mind helping me out?”
“Of course, I don’t mind.” She came closer to the bed where I lay curled on my left side, wearing nothing but a t-shirt.
“Thank you,” I replied stiffly. I don’t know why I felt so deeply self-conscious around her. It wasn’t like Natalie had never seen me naked before; she had been dressing and undressing my bottom half for months now. She’d slept with me and showered with me. She had even helped me with the catheter I wore at night. But, for some reason, this felt different from all of that. “There should be a bin on the bedside table with gloves and wet wipes.”
“Yup, I see it.” If Natalie was disgusted by me, she didn’t let it show. She put on a pair of gloves and got to work cleaning me up. I was glad I couldn’t see her face while she did it. When she finished with me, she wiped down my wheelchair’s seat cushion with disinfecting wipes, then wadded everything up into a trash bag and tossed her gloves inside. “I’ll be right back,” she said, tying the bag shut before she took it downstairs to dispose of.
“Thanks, babe,” I said quietly when she came back. I could hardly look her in the eye.
“You’re welcome.” Standing awkwardly next to the bed, Natalie offered me a sympathetic smile. “Are you feeling any better now?”
“Not really.” My pounding headache had been reduced to a dull throb, but I still felt flushed and dirty. I wasn’t sure whether my discomfort was actually physical or just mental.
“Would a shower help?” Natalie asked, as if she could read my mind. “I always feel better after a nice, hot shower.”
I nodded. “Yeah, maybe… if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. To be honest, I could use one, too.”
Yeah, I’m sure you could, I thought, still disgusted by what I had asked her to do for me. She probably wanted to scrub it from her memory just as much as I did.
Natalie helped me transfer to my shower chair and took me into the bathroom, where we both stripped down and entered the shower together. The hot water felt good running over my body, washing away any remaining physical evidence of the accident, but it wasn’t enough to make me forget it. The past hour of my life kept replaying in my mind like a horror movie being fast-forwarded and rewound again and again. It was far from the steamy, romantic shower we’d taken together on Mason’s birthday. In fact, as Natalie stood behind me, rubbing a soapy washcloth over my back in small circles, I was reminded of Dawn washing Mason’s back the same way during his bath earlier that day.
“I feel like a damn five-year-old,” I blurted. “First, I poop my pants at the restaurant, and now here I am, being bathed like a little boy. Soon it’ll be my bedtime. Can’t wait for you to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight.”
Natalie giggled; she must have thought I was kidding. “I can’t wait to kiss you goodnight either,” she replied, leaning over my shoulder to give me a peck on the cheek.
I shrugged her off. “I just wanna go to sleep and forget this ever happened. And here I thought my kindergartner puking in his classroom would be the worst part of my day…”
“Aw, babe, don’t even worry about it. You couldn’t help it any more than he could.”
“That’s what’s so frustrating,” I muttered.
My frustration only grew when I got out of the shower and went back to my bedroom to find a text from Dawn on my phone: “Might be a good idea to bust out the Depends tonight so we can avoid another Atlanta situation. Holler if you need anything.”
I frowned as I read the message. As much as I hated to admit it, her suggestion made sense. I hadn’t worn adult diapers since I was discharged from the hospital after I got hurt, but I kept a box hidden in the back of my closet just in case. It was easier to change a diaper than it was to change the sheets. I didn’t want to wake up to another mess in my bed any more than Dawn wanted to deal with cleaning up one when she wasn’t feeling well.
Reluctantly, I showed Natalie the text and told her where to find the box. “You sure about moving in with me?” I asked, only half-jokingly, as she helped me put one on. “‘Cause if you change your mind after this, I won’t blame you. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Oh, hush,” she gently scolded. “Don’t you remember the day we met? I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.”
“I doubt that. You thought you’d be a Backstreet Boy’s girlfriend, not a dirty old man’s caregiver.”
“Stop. Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.” She gave me a playful swat on my padded butt before rolling me onto my back. “You’re not a dirty old man. You know I was just kidding when I called you that earlier, right?”
“I dunno… Between the wheelchair, the Viagra, and the damn Depends, it’s not far from the truth,” I said, making a face at the bin of medical supplies still sitting on my bedside table. “You’d think I was turning ninety-one, not forty-one.”
“Well, you’re not,” Natalie replied firmly, wedging one of my pillows under my knees. “So don’t worry about it.”
“You’re only, what, thirty?”
“Thirty-one in December.” She tucked another pillow under my ankles to prop up my feet. “And so what? Ten years is nothing when you’re both consenting adults.”
“I’m just saying, you’re a beautiful young woman. You shouldn’t have to be doing this kinda stuff,” I went on as she continued getting me ready for bed. “You deserve better.”
“Please, Kevin.” She paused to look me in the eye. “We’ve been through this before. I told you, nothing about your disability is a dealbreaker for me.”
“Then what would be?” I wondered.
Her answer came without hesitation. “Infidelity. Dishonesty. I don’t wanna be lied to or cheated on ever again.”
As she leaned over me, I looked up at her, admiring both her beauty and her compassion. “I don’t know why anyone would ever cheat on you. I would never.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Natalie said, smiling. “You will love me more than that. You won’t say the words, then take them back. You’ll never break my heart… or make me cry…”
Despite my humiliation, her response made me laugh. “I see what you’re doing there.”
“Well, I would hope so!” She laughed along with me as she pulled the covers up over my legs. “I know it’s been a few years, but you’re gonna be in big trouble when it comes time to tour if you don’t remember your own lyrics.” Once she’d finished tucking me in, she took off the towel she’d been wearing and put on her pink pajamas.
Watching her change, I said, “You should probably sleep in the guest room tonight. If I’ve got whatever Mason and Dawn have, I don’t wanna give it to you.”
“I’m not worried about it,” she said dismissively as she hitched the waistband of her shorts up over her hips. “I’ve got a pretty good immune system. When you spend as much time as I do trapped inside a metal tube, breathing the same air as hundreds of people from all over the world, you build up a tolerance to germs. I almost never get sick anymore.” She pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and climbed in next to me. “Besides, what if you get sick in the middle of the night? Someone should be with you, don’t you think? I mean, no offense, but you can’t just hop out of bed and run to the toilet if you need to vomit. You can hardly turn yourself over. I’d be afraid you would aspirate or choke on it. We should probably put you on your side before we go to sleep.”
She had a point. I couldn’t recall the last time I had vomited; in fact, I wasn’t sure I had done so since my spinal cord injury. I didn’t even know if I was still capable of vomiting with my weakened diaphragm and abdominal muscles, but the thought of doing so while I was stuck on my back terrified me. “You’re probably right,” I told Natalie.
Before we turned out the lights, she got up to reposition me, rolling me onto my right side so that I was facing the edge of the bed with my back to her. I felt better knowing I wouldn’t be breathing in her face all night and that, if I did need to vomit, it would go on the floor instead of getting all over her. I finally began to relax when she slipped back into bed and spooned me from behind, rubbing my back and shoulders until I fell asleep.
***
It turns out that quadriplegics are still fully capable of vomiting, as I discovered the next morning. Lucky me. I spent most of the day after my birthday in bed with a bowl nearby, since I couldn’t exactly kneel in front of the toilet. Each time I filled it, Natalie was there to empty it. She would wipe my mouth with a wet washcloth, offer me a sip of water, and massage my back until the violent spasms that accompanied each episode subsided.
“Poor baby,” she said, dutifully holding the bowl under my chin while I was doubled over it, my body racked with dry heaves. By that point, there was nothing left in my stomach to bring up, but she continued to pat my back with her other hand until the wave of nausea passed. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“Well, I hate being like this,” I replied weakly, resting my head on my pillow as she helped me recline back against the raised part of my bed. “And, look, I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but please don’t call me that.”
“What?” A confused expression flickered across her face as she set the bowl aside.
“‘Poor baby.’ I’m not a baby, and I don’t wanna be treated like one. I know it’s tempting when I’m literally wearing a diaper and spitting up like a damn infant, but-”
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it; it was just a pet name. But it probably sounds patronizing, doesn’t it? I apologize. I won’t do it again.”
“Thanks.” I felt grateful to her for being so understanding. The last thing I wanted was to start another fight.
“How about ‘babe’?” she asked. “Does that bother you?”
“No, not at all. ‘Babe’ is fine. Kristin used to call me ‘babe,’” I said, swallowing painfully. The back of my throat felt raw. “To be honest, I don’t even mind being called ‘baby’ in a different context. Just not when it’s in a pitying way, if that makes sense.”
Natalie nodded. “It makes perfect sense. You don’t want people feeling sorry for you.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, thanks for letting me know. I never realized that was a pet peeve of yours.”
“No problem. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but I didn’t wanna seem unappreciative.” Lying back against my pillow, I licked my parched lips. Natalie seemed to notice and reached for my water bottle, bringing the straw right to my mouth so I could sip without moving. “Thanks, babe,” I said, flashing her a weary smile. “Would you mind checking on Mason for me? And maybe see how Dawn’s doing?”
“Sure,” she replied, setting the bowl in my lap. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
She had been doing double duty all day long, tending to both me and Mason while Dawn was down for the count. After a rough night, Mason had woken up feeling better that morning and managed to polish off a plain piece of toast for breakfast and keep it down. Dawn, on the other hand, was still dealing with digestive issues and had spent most of the day running between her bedroom and the bathroom, but Mason’s fast recovery gave me hope that this was just a twenty-four-hour stomach flu that would be out of our systems before long.
“Mason’s watching one of the Star Wars movies with Dawn in her room,” Natalie reported when she returned a few minutes later. “They’re both doing okay. Mason said he’ll come hang out with you when the movie’s done.”
I smiled. “He’s been absolutely obsessed with Star Wars lately, if you couldn’t tell. Just like me and my cousins when we were kids. I love it.”
“Well, I love you,” she said, laying her head on my shoulder as she snuggled up next to me. “I’ll be your Slave Leia anytime.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Even when I’m more Jabba the Hutt than Han Solo?” I said, looking down at my quad belly.
“Even then,” she replied, running her hand across my chest as she leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“Careful,” I warned her. “You really don’t wanna catch this stomach bug.”
“Don’t worry about me, babe,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
Famous last words.
By the next day, our fortunes had reversed: I woke up feeling better, while Natalie was the one hunched over the toilet bowl. Her nausea was so bad that she had no choice but to cancel her flight back to Atlanta.
“I’m supposed to be the lead flight attendant on a red-eye to Rome tomorrow night,” she moaned, leaning her head back against the wall. She was slumped on my bathroom floor with her legs splayed out in front of her, looking utterly miserable. Her unwashed hair was pulled back into a messy bun to keep it out of her face, which appeared pale and blotchy without makeup. There was dried vomit crusted in the corners of her mouth and a brown stain on the front of her bright pink pajamas. “If I can’t get home and sleep, I’m gonna have to call out sick and hope they can find someone to cover for me.”
“Isn’t that what reserve is for?” I asked, wanting to be helpful. I had never seen her like that before.
“Yes… but I rarely call out sick…”
“Then all the more reason to do it when you really need to,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m sure Delta doesn’t want you infecting a whole plane full of people with whatever’s been going around this house.”
There was a small part of me that wanted to say, “I told you so,” but, of course, I wasn’t that cruel. I already felt bad for passing the stomach bug on to her. Watching her suffer the same fate made me feel even worse because it was hard for me to care for her the tender way she had nursed me back to health. I tried to rub her back and stroke her hair, bring her water and mints to settle her stomach, but I felt like I was constantly in her way, more of a hindrance than a help. I couldn’t hold her the way I wanted to, and she didn’t want or need me to wash her or clean up after her like she had done for me.
Still, as we approached our six-month anniversary with the anticipation of moving in together part-time, the days immediately following my birthday marked an important milestone for us. By the time Natalie felt well enough to fly home, a day later than planned, we had broken through the protective walls we’d built around ourselves and seen each other at our most vulnerable. The stomach flu may have weakened us, but helping each other through it would only make our relationship stronger.
***