The week after Christmas was usually one of the worst weeks of the year for me. The letdown of Christmas being over, combined with the sense of dread I felt in the days leading up to the anniversary of my accident, made the end of December incredibly depressing.
But not this year. This year, I had something to look forward to, something to take my mind off mourning all that I’d lost on that fateful January first. This year, I wouldn’t be crying myself to sleep as the clock struck midnight, missing my late wife, my old body, and my old life. This year, I would be celebrating my second chance at life by ringing in the new year with my new girlfriend on a beach in Jamaica.
So, instead of spending the following week moping around my house, feeling sorry for myself, I spent it packing and preparing for my trip. Although Dawn did most of the physical packing, I had plenty of decisions to make about what to take with me and where to put it all. As usual, we filled one suitcase with my clothing and toiletries, saving a carry-on bag for my adaptive equipment and medical supplies. Dawn made a long packing list on my phone and had me check off each item as she added it to my luggage to make sure we didn’t forget anything.
As I watched her put a week’s worth of medications, catheters, and bowel care supplies in my carry-on, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. “I kinda wish you were coming with us,” I admitted, tapping the checkbox next to “blood pressure monitor” as Dawn tucked a small black case into a corner of the bag. “I’ve never been out of the country without a caregiver before.”
“And you won’t be this time either,” she replied, wedging a travel-size package of wet wipes between the two neatly-labeled Ziploc bags that contained my prescription bottles. “You’ll have Natalie with you.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not the same as having you or Nick with me,” I said, searching for “wet wipes” on the list.
“I know you don’t want to think of her that way, as your caregiver, but you might as well accept it now because that’s what she’ll be – for the next week, anyway,” Dawn said matter-of-factly as she placed a few absorbent pads on top. “Give your girl some credit. She knows what she’s doing now. Your trip to Nashville went all right, didn’t it?”
I hesitated, remembering our flat tire on the drive down and how Natalie had freaked out the first time she had to do my bowel program completely by herself. “We survived, sure… but we also had Nick and Howie nearby in case Natalie needed help, and we were in a major city, only a few hours from home. This time, we’ll be on an island in the middle of the Caribbean. What if something goes wrong?”
“You’ll be at an all-inclusive resort, surrounded by people,” Dawn reminded me. “Odds are, at least a few of them will be healthcare workers. And the resort probably has some kind of infirmary with basic first aid supplies on site, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah… you’re right.”
“Plus, you know how to take care of yourself, Kevin. Just remember to do your weight shifts and skin checks, elevate your legs when you can, wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, cath often, and don’t do anything stupid, like taking a double dose of your boner meds,” she said firmly, fixing me with a look of admonishment.
I felt my face flush with heat as I recalled the humiliating night I had been rushed to the hospital with what I’d feared was a pulmonary embolism. “Don’t worry,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I won’t ever do that again.”
“Good.” Dawn zipped up my carry-on and patted the top. “There you go.” She lifted the bag off the foot of my bed and set it down on the floor next to the full-size suitcase she had already finished packing. I heard her exhale a soft sigh as she perched on the edge of my bed, her posture sagging.
“Thanks, Dawn,” I said gratefully, feeling guilty that I physically couldn’t do more to help her. I could tell she was tired; she’d barely had time to recover from Christmas before jumping into helping me pack for Jamaica. “I bet you’ll be glad to get another break from me and all my bullshit,” I added with a chuckle, watching her rub her lower back like it was hurting her. “Or, at least, your back will. You all right?” I hoped she hadn’t pulled a muscle while she was hauling me and my heavy luggage around.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, but I caught the grimace of pain that flickered across her face. “I just need to sit for a minute. Standing in that slightly bent-over position does a number on my back after a while. But it has nothing to do with you. I’m just old and fat.”
“Stop,” I chided her. “You are not.”
She said nothing, just flashed me a weary smile.
I cleared my throat. “You know, I may not be able to move my fingers anymore, but these fists of mine are still pretty good at giving back rubs – according to Natalie, anyway,” I said with a shrug, holding up my balled hands. “If you want, I can try to work out the tension.”
“Aw, you don’t have to do that,” Dawn replied as she stood up. “Thanks for offering, but I’ll be fine, really.”
“Come on,” I said, giving her a skeptical look. “You stretch my muscles every day. It’s the least I can do for you.”
She stared back at me for a few seconds, seeming to consider my offer. Then, finally, she shrugged and said, “Well, okay… if you insist.”
I shot her a reassuring smile. “Lie down on the bed – but close to the edge, so I can reach you. It’d be better if you took off your sweatshirt, too… but that’s up to you.”
Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Never thought I’d hear a Backstreet Boy tell me to take my top off,” she said with a smirk.
“C’mon, don’t make it weird. I just meant-”
“I know what you meant,” she interrupted me. “I’m just messing with you. I don’t wanna make it weird… but, you know, most people don’t start undressing in front of their employers.”
“Most people don’t undress their employers either,” I countered, shrugging. “But, honestly, I don’t care either way. Do whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Good point. I guess it shouldn’t be a big deal to let you see me without a shirt, huh?” She turned around and lifted her baggy sweatshirt over her head, revealing the black sports bra she had on underneath.
I didn’t think it was a big deal at all; I had seen Dawn in a swimsuit before, and she had seen me in far less. But I could tell she felt self-conscious. She kept her arms folded in front of her as she climbed awkwardly onto my neatly-made bed, stretching out on the side that had once been Kristin’s and now belonged to Natalie. She lay flat on her belly, turning her head away from me as I rolled my chair right up to the edge of the bed.
But as soon as I dug my fists into the flesh of her back, Dawn let out a low groan. “Oh, god… that does feel good.”
“Tell me if I’m pushing too hard,” I said, using my knuckles to slowly knead her sore muscles. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re not. This is great,” she murmured as goosebumps erupted on her exposed skin. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I rotated my wrists, tapping up and down her back with the sides of my hands, then rubbing with the heels. Dawn seemed to melt right into the mattress as the tension leached out of her body, leaving her limp and relaxed.
I concentrated on her lower back, which seemed to be bothering her the most. But as I worked my way up her spine, I noticed some tightness in her neck, too. I saw how her shoulders hunched and stiffened when I brushed my hand across her shoulder blades, accidentally hooking one of her bra straps with my thumb.
“Whoops… sorry,” I said, freeing my thumb before I pushed the strap back into place.
Dawn didn’t reply. I thought nothing of her silence until I heard her take a shaky breath and saw her shiver.
“Dawn? You okay?” When I placed my hands upon her trembling shoulders, I could feel the vibrations all the way up to my elbows. “Is it too cold in here? You want a blanket?”
“No,” she whispered, turning her head toward me. It was only then that I realized there were tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, alarmed.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t mind me; I’m just having a moment here.”
My mind raced as I stared at her, trying to figure out what I might have done to make her cry. Was it because I moved her bra strap? “I hope I didn’t hurt you… or make you more uncomfortable…”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kevin,” Dawn said quietly as she sat up, reaching for her sweatshirt. “I was just lying here, trying to remember the last time anybody touched me like that. It’s been so long…” She hugged the hoodie to her chest, using it to hide her stomach.
“Damn… I guess I should have gotten you a real massage for Christmas, huh?” I replied, shooting her a sympathetic smile.
Laughing through her tears, she shook her head. “Nah… I’d rather have Def Leppard tickets.”
As I watched her wipe the tears away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, I finally realized what had triggered them in the first place. Dawn was lonely. She had already been divorced for a few years when I’d first met her and hadn’t dated anyone in the almost four years she’d been working for me. She had friends and family, of course, other people besides Mason and me who cared about her, but no romantic partners.
Loneliness was a feeling I knew well, a pain I had lived with for more than four years myself. It was a hunger that had gnawed around around the edges of the hole in my heart from the moment I’d lost Kristin until the day I’d met Natalie – and, while it went away whenever I was with her, it inevitably returned every time I had to tell her goodbye. Family and friends weren’t enough to fill that hole or satisfy my cravings.
“Have you thought about who you’re taking to that concert?” I asked Dawn. “I mean, it’s not for another three months. Plenty of time to find someone to go with you.”
She frowned, her forehead wrinkling as a look of confusion flickered across her face. “Well, I assumed you were going with me.”
“I will if you want me to, but they’re your tickets. You get to decide who goes. It doesn’t have to be me,” I replied. “You never know… maybe you’ll meet a nice guy who loves rock music as much as you do.”
Dawn’s brow shifted as she gave me a look, her bewildered expression becoming one of exasperation. “I can see where you’re going with this, Kevin, and I thought I made myself pretty clear the last time we had a conversation like this.”
I knew what conversation she was referring to; I could remember it clearly. “Have you ever thought about putting yourself back out there?” I’d asked her on New Year’s Day as I considered the possibility of dating again for the first time since Kristin’s death.
“I’ve thought about it, but I always come to the same conclusion: I’m better off alone,” Dawn had replied with a shrug. “After being cheated on by a man I devoted two decades of my life to, I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life than deal with that bullshit again.”
“You did,” I said, nodding, “and I understood where you were coming from. We’d both had our hearts broken, and neither one of us was in a big hurry to risk it happening again. But that was before I met Natalie. And look at me now, getting ready to go on this romantic getaway…” I motioned to the pile of luggage Dawn had left sitting by the foot of my bed. “For the first time in four years, I’m not even dreading New Year’s because I know I’ll be with her. And while that doesn’t take away the pain of losing Kristin, it does make it easier for me to deal with it. Natalie’s like a natural antidepressant.”
Dawn flashed me a crooked smile. “I’m happy for you. I really am. And, who knows,” she added as she lay back down, rolling over so I could finish her massage. “Maybe I will meet someone someday and change my mind… but, for now, I’m fine with my life the way it is.”
Then why were you crying? I wondered but didn’t ask, knowing firsthand how complicated grief could be. This was a hard time of year for Dawn, too, I reminded myself as I returned to rubbing her lower back. Her son Michael’s birthday was on January first, the same day Kristin had died. Of course, she would be feeling more emotional than usual.
“I’m sorry I won’t be here for Michael’s birthday this year – well, technically, next year, but you know what I mean,” I said awkwardly, clearing my throat. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right staying here alone with Mason? ‘Cause I can always arrange for him to go to my mom’s house if you wanna take some more time off while I’m gone.”
“I don’t need any more time off,” Dawn replied quickly. “Honestly, I’d rather be here with Mason. It helps, having another kid in the house to take care of, you know?”
I knew. If it hadn’t been for Mason, I wasn’t sure I would have made it through the first year after my accident, let alone the last four. My son was my main reason for living, my biggest motivation for pushing myself through the pain in order to regain as much function as I had. I was the only parent he had left, and I wanted to be the best father to him that I could possibly be. “Sure,” I said, nodding. “He’s a natural antidepressant, too.”
“Dad? Are you almost d-”
“Well, speak of the devil,” I muttered, glancing up to see Mason standing in the doorway.
The last word of his question died on his lips as he looked in to see Dawn lying on my bed in her bra and me massaging her bare back. “What are you guys doing?” he asked instead, wrinkling his nose.
“Dawn’s back was sore, so I’m giving her a back rub,” I replied quickly, feeling my face redden. I was telling the truth, but, all of a sudden, I felt weird about it, like maybe it was a bigger deal than I’d originally thought. Deep down, I knew Natalie probably wouldn’t approve of me touching Dawn that way, even if there was nothing sexual about it – which, of course, there wasn’t. Dawn was like a sister to me; I didn’t feel any sort of physical attraction toward her. But she wasn’t my sister, and, to Natalie, that distinction would make all the difference in the world.
Dawn must have felt the same way because she abruptly sat up. “My back feels better already,” she said as she pulled her hoodie over her head, hurriedly tugging it down to cover herself. “Thanks, Kevin. That really helped.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied awkwardly, wheeling myself backward out of the way as she climbed to her feet.
“Do mine next!” Mason pleaded, peeling off his own shirt without hesitation as he jumped up onto the bed and lay down in Dawn’s place.
We both laughed, relieving the tension in the room. “All right,” I agreed, rolling forward again so I could rub my son’s back, too.
“I’ll start taking this stuff downstairs,” Dawn said, motioning to the pile of luggage she’d left sitting by the foot of the bed.
“Take the elevator,” I told her. “I don’t want you making your back worse by dragging my bags down the stairs.”
She nodded, discreetly dabbing at her puffy eyes while Mason wasn’t looking. “Will do.”
“Thanks, Dawn.” I flashed her a grateful smile, which she returned without hesitation.
“You’re welcome.”
***