Chapter 77

The drive from the Crawfords’ farm to our hotel in Cordele took half an hour, but it felt a lot longer. I stared out my window, watching the dark trees and fields fly by as Natalie sped down the deserted stretch of country road. Neither of us spoke much.

To her credit, Natalie had tried to make conversation for the first ten minutes or so, but after receiving mostly one-word replies from me, she finally gave up and cranked up the radio instead, filling her car with the sound of country music to make up for the uncomfortable silence between us.

“Hey, good girl, with your head in the clouds,” Carrie Underwood’s voice belted through the speakers. “I bet you I can tell you what you’re thinkin’ about. You’ll see a good boy, gonna give you the world, but he’s gonna leave you crying with your heart in the dirt…”

Natalie continued to twiddle the dial, turning the volume back down. Then, stifling a cough, she cleared her throat and said, “Do you mind if I crack open a window, babe?”

“No, of course not.” I could tell the smell was getting to her. It had lingered long after we’d left her parents’ farm, far more pungent than the faint odor of cow manure wafting from the freshly-tilled peanut fields. By now, we both knew without a doubt that it was coming from me, and there was nothing we could do about it until we got back to the hotel, except try to air out the car.

“Tell me if you get too chilly,” she said as she fiddled with the toggle on her door, putting her window halfway down. A cold wind whipped through my hair, causing the back of my neck to break out in goosebumps, but I didn’t dare complain. At that moment, her comfort mattered more to me than mine.

When we finally made it back to our hotel room, Natalie spread an absorbent pad out on the bed before she helped me transfer onto it. “We might as well just do your program tonight,” she said as she took the rest of my bowel care supplies out of my carry-on and set them on the nightstand. “That way, we won’t have to get up so early tomorrow.”

I appreciated her attempt to put a positive spin on the situation, but I knew she was probably more worried about waking up on soiled sheets than waking up early. This time, there was no Dawn next door to clean up the mess if I had another accident overnight. “Good idea,” I agreed.

Natalie put on a pair of gloves, then peeled off my sweatpants and underwear.

“How bad is it?” I asked her hesitantly.

“Not as bad as the night of your birthday,” she assured me. I cringed, remembering the mortifying scene at the Mexican restaurant. “You aren’t, like, attached to these, are you?”

I looked up to see her holding my black boxer briefs between her thumb and forefinger. “What? No.”

“Good.” She carried them across the room and dropped them into the wastebasket. “You can afford to buy more.”

I managed a weak smile as she came back over to the bed and opened up a pack of wet wipes. Then she rolled me onto my side, so she could finish cleaning me up. “Thanks, baby,” I muttered, embarrassed, as she went to work. More than ever, I wished we had a roll-in shower to wash away the mess and the shame along with it. “I’m really sorry about this. I can’t believe it happened again.”

“It’s okay, Kevin, really,” she insisted. “I’m sorry I laughed. I couldn’t help it anymore than you could. Farts are funny.”

“Yeah, well, sharts are not.” I didn’t mean to make a joke, but merely saying the word “sharts” made Natalie dissolve into another fit of giggles. Her laughter was contagious, and before I knew it, I was cracking up, too.

“I’m sorry!” she kept saying as she tried to catch her breath. “I know I shouldn’t be laughing about this, but-”

“It’s okay,” I said, realizing how much better I felt after having a good laugh with her. “I’m glad we can laugh about it together. If we didn’t, we’d probably cry.”

The tears came later that night, long after Natalie had fallen asleep next to me. We had to be up in just a few hours to get ready for church, yet I lay in bed beside her, unable to sleep. My body may have been worn out from our long day of traveling and the many transfers we’d done, but my mind was still wide awake, metaphorically tossing and turning as I worried about the days ahead and wondered what to do. I had promised Natalie’s dad that I wouldn’t propose to her without his blessing. But now that I knew he didn’t want me to marry her, I had some hard decisions to make about the future of our relationship.

It wasn’t just Bill’s disapproval that bothered me, but his reasons for disapproving. He didn’t see me as an equal partner to Natalie. In his eyes, I would be nothing but a burden to her, a husband who took more from his wife than he gave. Although I didn’t agree with his ableist views, I couldn’t blame the man for wanting a comfortable, carefree life for his daughter.

As much as I hated to admit it, the way the evening had ended hadn’t done anything to help my cause – or ease my own burden complex. Not only had we left early because of me, but, rather than relaxing in our hotel room, Natalie had spent the rest of her night caring for me – cleaning me up, assembling my commode, administering my program, and carrying out my night routine. No wonder she had passed out a mere ten minutes after her head hit the pillow. She was probably beyond exhausted. My disability didn’t just make life harder for me, but for everyone else around me, including her.

I’m not sure how long I lay awake with my eyes closed, listening to the sound of Natalie’s soft, steady breathing and stewing over my conversation with her father. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes again, it was morning. The room was still pitch black, but I could hear the alarm on Natalie’s phone chiming from her side of the bed.

“Babe.” I rolled over onto my back. By the faint glow coming from the digital clock, I could just make out her silhouette lying still beneath the covers. “Nat,” I whispered, reaching out to nudge her shoulder. “Baby, wake up. Your alarm’s going off.”

Natalie finally stirred. Then, with a start, she sat up straight. “Oh! Sorry…” She reached for her phone and shut off the alarm, then switched on the lamp, flooding the room with light. “Five o’clock came way too soon,” she sighed as she pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed.

“Tell me about it. I barely slept a wink,” I muttered back. I felt bad that she had to wake up so early because of me. Even without my bowel program, my typical morning routine took over an hour to complete – and, on top of helping me get up and ready for church, Natalie needed time to get herself ready, too.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked, coming around to my side to turn down the covers. “The sheets look clean, at least.” I could hear the relief in her voice, but her words reignited my horrifying memories of the previous night in a red hot rush of humiliation. How could I face her father again, after what had happened at her parents’ house?

“Not really,” I replied. “I mean, I’m not about to shit the bed, if that’s what you’re afraid of, but I can’t say I feel great either.” That part wasn’t a lie. My head hurt, but it felt like a regular headache, the dull, lingering kind that comes from a lack of sleep, rather than the excruciating, pounding kind that accompanied my autonomic dysreflexia. But I twisted the truth by adding, “I think I may be coming down with something.” My croaky voice, hoarsened by the usual coating of phlegm that had yet to be cleared from my throat, helped sell the lie.

Natalie looked at me with an expression of sympathy and dismay. “Oh no!”

“Yeah… maybe I should just hang out here today. If I am getting sick, I don’t wanna infect the rest of your family.”

She frowned. “You’re probably just tired, babe. I bet you’ll feel better once you take your meds and get out of bed. C’mon, let’s get started with your morning routine,” she replied encouragingly, pulling the covers the rest of the way off me.

I lay exposed on the bed, dreading the day ahead, as Natalie bustled around the room, bringing me my morning meds, emptying my night bag, and removing my condom catheter. She helped me cough to clear my lungs, then started stretching my legs, lifting and bending them to loosen the stiff muscles that had tightened overnight. Aside from the occasional spasm, my body must have seemed calm and still on the outside, but, inside, my heart and mind were racing. By the time she’d finished my stretches, I had made my decision. As she took my church clothes out of our suitcase, I cleared my throat. “Baby, I’m sorry, but I’m not going.”

Natalie stopped dead in her tracks, staring at me in disbelief. “Not going?” she repeated. “Not going where? To church or to my parents’ house?”

“Both. I mean, neither.”

She continued to stare at me, as if she were struggling to understand what I was telling her. “Do you really feel that bad?” she finally asked.

I nodded but didn’t elaborate, not wanting to stretch the truth any further than I already had.

Natalie sighed. “Well, then, I guess neither of us are going,” she said, stuffing my church clothes back into the suitcase and pulling out a pair of comfortable sweats.

“No, you should still go,” I told her. “It means more to your family to have you there than me.”

“Well, I can’t just leave you here alone!” she argued.

“Why not? I’m a grown man,” I protested, as she picked up my feet and pushed them through the leg holes of my sweatpants. “I’ll be fine.”

“What will you do for food?” she asked, working the pants up my legs.

“Honestly, after yesterday, the last thing I feel like doing is eating. But if I get hungry, the hotel has continental breakfast until ten – and maybe you could bring me back some leftovers for later?”

“Of course, I will, but… what if something happens?”

“Like what?”

“Like, what if you have another accident? Or fall out of your chair?” she said, rolling me from side to side as she hitched the sweatpants up over my hips. “Or what if there’s a fire in the hotel?”

“Well, then, you’d better pray to God the fire department gets to me before the fire does,” I replied with a weak grin. “But I don’t foresee any of that happening. And, if it does, I’ve got my phone to call you or the front desk or 911. So don’t worry, babe. I’ll be fine.”

In the end, though I knew she wasn’t happy about it, Natalie agreed to go to her family’s Easter celebration without me. “Call if you need anything or if you start to feel worse,” she made me promise before she left. “I’m only half an hour away.” Then she bent down and gave me a peck on the forehead rather than a full-on goodbye kiss. “Feel better,” she said somewhat brusquely as she straightened up and reached for her purse. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks, baby.” A lump rose in my throat as I watched her walk away, her short, floral dress swishing around her long, shapely legs. “I love you,” I added hoarsely, swallowing hard.

“Love you, too,” she called back over her shoulder, but the words rang hollow. I could tell she was irritated that I wasn’t coming with her.

Coward, I scolded myself, a sense of regret setting in as the door closed with a click. It had been less than twelve hours since her father had rejected me, and, already, I felt like I was losing her. I should have gone after her, faced her father, and fought for our future together. But, instead, I just sat there and stared at the closed door, crippled by my own doubts and insecurities.

Alone in the hotel room, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for myself. This was shaping up to be the worst Easter since the first one after my accident, when I was fresh out of the hospital and still struggling to adapt to my new life as a quadriplegic – and my new life without Kristin. But at least then, I’d been surrounded by family and friends. This year, I had no one.

I passed the time by texting my friends and calling my family to wish them all a happy Easter. I put on a big, fake smile while I FaceTimed with Mason, pretending everything was fine. When he asked where Natalie was, I lied and said she was in the bathroom, getting ready. I wasn’t ready to tell him or anyone else the real story – not even Natalie. Especially not Natalie. It would break her heart to know that her dad didn’t want her to marry me.

My only hope was to have a conversation with her mom. If I could get Bev on my side, maybe she could convince Bill to change his mind. Then Natalie would never have to know that he’d ever disapproved.

A part of me wished I had just sucked it up and gone with Natalie, so I could have tried talking to Bev. But, then, I knew it would have been hard to pull her aside for a private conversation on a holiday, when her house was full of people. It would be better to call her another day, when I could catch her alone. I already had her phone number; Natalie had added her parents’ landline to my contacts before she’d left, in case I needed something and couldn’t reach her on her cell. But I was determined not to use it for that reason, knowing it would only make me seem even more dependent in her dad’s eyes.

I spent a long, boring day in the hotel room, alternating between dozing in my chair and doomscrolling on my phone as I languished in front of the TV. Natalie texted twice to check on me, and I responded both times to reassure her that I was all right, but, otherwise, we didn’t talk until she returned that evening.

Even then, she seemed unusually quiet as she changed out of her church dress. “So, how was your day?” I asked as I sat at the desk, wolfing down the plate of leftovers she had brought back and reheated in the microwave for me.

“Fine… but I would have enjoyed it more if you were with me.” Perching on the foot of the bed in nothing but her pink bra and panties, she watched me shovel food into my mouth. “You must be feeling better.”

I nodded through a mouthful of scalloped potatoes.

Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t eat all day, did you?”

I shrugged, then shook my head.

“What’s going on with you, Kevin? I know you’re not really sick. So what’s the real reason you didn’t wanna go with me today?”

I chewed slowly, giving myself more time to figure out how to answer her. Finally, I swallowed and said, “Because I was embarrassed, all right? How could I show my face at your parents’ house after shitting my pants in front of your father last night?” It wasn’t the whole truth, but at least it wasn’t a total lie.

I expected Natalie to be sympathetic, but all she said was, “It would have been better if you had. I told them you had a stomach bug, but I don’t think my dad believed it.”

“Great,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of ham with my fork. “So now he thinks I’m a loser and a liar.”

“What? He doesn’t think you’re a loser!”

I opened my mouth to correct this notion but popped the piece of ham inside and closed it again before a single word could come out. As much as I wanted to tell Natalie all the condescending, ableist things her father had said to me on his front porch the previous night, I didn’t want to make things worse by pitting myself against him and putting her in the middle.

“Why would you say something like that?” Natalie asked, giving me a hard look. “Did something happen between you and my dad last night?”

I shook my head as I swallowed my ham. “No, of course not. I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“He just doesn’t know you well enough yet,” she insisted. “Which is exactly why you should have gone with me today! That’s why I invited you down here for another holiday, so you could spend more time with my family, not hang out in a hotel room alone and feel sorry for yourself.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say to her.

“Me too.” With that, she stood up and turned her back to me, walking into the bathroom. I heard the door click as she closed it behind her, followed by the sound of water running.

I finished my dinner in solitude. When I was done, I folded the paper plate and the piece of foil that had been placed over the top of it to cover my food and put them both in the wastebasket. Glancing down at myself, I saw that I had dripped something greasy – meat juice, most likely – down my front, so I took off my sweatshirt and folded that up, too. I didn’t bother to put on a clean shirt; after twelve straight hours of sitting in my wheelchair, I couldn’t wait to transfer to the bed.

After what felt like forever, Natalie finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a white towel with a second towel wrapped around her head like a turban. Her bare face was bright red, as if she had scrubbed it raw with scalding water in her effort to remove her makeup. I could smell the fresh, clean scent of soap clinging to her skin. It made me wish I could take a long, hot shower, too. The sponge bath she’d given me while I was on the commode the night before hadn’t been enough to help me feel fully clean again.

“You smell good,” I said as I wheeled past her on my way into the steamy bathroom. “First thing I wanna do when we get home tomorrow is take a shower. Speaking of which, we still need to talk to the manager before we check out in the morning.”

Natalie didn’t answer me. Oh, great, I thought as I fumbled with the tube of toothpaste, fighting to squeeze some onto my electric toothbrush without it squirting everywhere. Now I’m gonna get the silent treatment. I sighed with frustration. If Natalie only knew what her father had said, she would have been mad at him, not me. But, still, I resisted the temptation to tell her, knowing the truth would hurt her even more than my lie had.

I took my time in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and emptying my bladder. When I came back out, Natalie had put on her pajamas and was sitting at the desk, combing out her wet hair in front of the mirror. I didn’t say anything to her as I wheeled myself over to the bed and unbuckled my seatbelt. Hooking my right arm around my push handle, I leaned over and reached down to unfasten my footstraps and thread my left hand through the hole on my slide board, which she had left leaning against the base of the bedside table. Lifting it off the ground, I laid it across my lap as I angled myself closer to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Natalie asked when she caught sight of me leaning sideways so I could wedge one end of the board underneath me.

“Going to bed,” I grunted, using one hand to lift and pull my left leg out of the way while I pushed the board into place with the other.

“Oh. Well, were you gonna ask for help transferring?”

“Nope,” I replied matter-of-factly. “I wanna try it by myself.”

“Okay. May I ask why?”

“Because I’ve been working on transfers with Corey, trying to become more independent for times when I need to be,” I told her. “Like next weekend, when it’s just gonna be me and Dawn at the hotel in Vegas. We won’t have the Hoyer lift, and I don’t want her to have to do any heavy lifting.”

“Like I keep telling my dad, it really doesn’t take a lot of heavy lifting to help you transfer,” Natalie said, frowning at my reflection in the mirror. “Will you at least let me spot you, in case you lose your balance?”

I shrugged. “I can’t stop you, if that’s what you wanna do.”

I watched as her frown turned into a full-on glare. “Why are you acting so weird today?” she asked as she got up from her chair and walked over to me. “You don’t want my help. You don’t want to spend the day with me. Do you not want to spend the night with me either? Because I can get my own room or go back to my parents’ house if you’re suddenly so independent that you don’t need me anymore.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “Is that a threat?”

Her jaw dropped. “No, of course not! Kevin, you know I would never just leave you alone like that, no matter how mad I was. I only went without you today because you told me to! Was that some kind of test that I failed? Is that why you’re acting this way?”

“No. Of course not,” I replied quietly, reaching down to pull my legs off the footplates so that my feet were resting on the floor. Then I put on my brakes and planted the heels of my hands on either side of me, one on my chair and the other on the bed. Leaning forward over my lap, I pushed off as hard as I could and heaved myself slowly across the slide board. I half-expected Natalie to grab hold of my hips and help guide them over the gap, like she always did, but she just stood a few feet in front of me and watched with her hands on her own hips. I’m sure she would have caught me if I’d fallen forward, but I didn’t fall. Once I’d made sure I was sitting safely on the mattress, I flopped backward onto the bed, breathing hard from the physical effort it had taken me to transfer there. I should have felt triumphant and proud of myself, but, instead, I just felt sad and defeated. “So you are mad at me,” I said, staring up at the ceiling.

Natalie didn’t even try to deny it. “Yes, I’m mad!” she said, yanking the slide board out from under me. “You know I don’t like being lied to.” As she spoke, she lifted my legs onto the bed and started loosening my shoelaces. “First you faked sick to get out of spending the day with my family, and now I get the feeling there’s still something you’re keeping from me. Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”

Because it would break your heart, I thought. Because I would never want you to have to choose between me and your family. But all I said was, “I’m sorry I lied about not feeling well. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” said Natalie as she slid off my shoes. “Because dishonesty in a relationship is a dealbreaker for me. I told you that the night of your birthday dinner… when you really did have a stomach bug. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” My cheeks reddened as I recalled the second-most recent time I’d shit my pants in public, which also happened to be the first time Natalie had been forced to help me clean up afterward. Every detail of that night, including our conversation, had left a permanent stain on my memory.

“You sure about moving in with me?” I had asked her. “‘Cause if you change your mind after this, I won’t blame you. You didn’t sign up for this.”

“Please, Kevin,” she’d said, looking 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 had wondered.

Her answer had come without hesitation. “Infidelity. Dishonesty. I don’t wanna be lied to or cheated on ever again.”

I thought about that as Natalie finished undressing me in stony silence. After meeting her ex, Derek, I understood why she worried more about infidelity than incontinence – as anyone would, I supposed. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder how her father had felt about her former fiance before he’d found out about Derek’s affair. Had Derek asked for his permission to propose to her? If so, he must have approved. And, if not, Natalie had accepted the proposal anyway, which gave me some hope.

“Thanks, baby,” I told her once she’d hooked up my catheter and hung my night bag from the handle on my bedside table. As much as I hated having to depend on her when I knew she wasn’t happy with me, there were certain things I still needed help with.

“Mm-hm,” Natalie murmured vaguely as she moved around me, placing the usual assortment of pillows between the bony parts of my paralyzed body. Thankfully, the king-sized bed had been piled with plenty of pillows when we’d arrived, so we didn’t have to call the front desk to ask for more. Still, I felt bad for using most of them myself.

As Natalie pulled the covers up over me, I cleared my throat. “Since I’m going to bed earlier tonight, I’ll need to be turned between midnight and one,” I told her.

She nodded. “I’ll set an alarm for twelve-thirty,” she said, turning off the lamp on my side of the bed.

“Thanks.” I watched her walk around to the other side, expecting her to climb in beside me. But, instead, she unplugged her phone from its charger and carried it across the room. “Aren’t you coming to bed?” I asked as she curled up in the armchair in the corner.

Natalie shook her head. “Not yet. I’m gonna sit up a while longer.”

“Suit yourself,” I said with a shrug, shutting my eyes to block out the light from the desk lamp she’d left on. In the silence, the thoughts inside my head seemed even louder. You’re losing her! my conscience screamed at me. She’ll never fully trust you again, now that she knows you lied to her. You should have just told her the truth. Through the cacophony, I could hear my mother’s voice, reminding me to never go to bed angry. It was a piece of advice she had given me before Kristin and I got married, an adage she and my dad had always tried to abide by. Knowing she was right, I cleared my throat and added, “Goodnight, babe.”

“‘Night,” Natalie’s voice echoed back. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she had heard the same words of wisdom from her mother. Bev Crawford seemed like the kind of person who couldn’t go to bed with unresolved conflict hanging over her head. A mother hen type like her would want to have all her ducks in a row before settling down on her nest for the night. Much like her daughter, Bev was not only a nurturer but a fixer.

I fell asleep that night, praying that she would help me fix my relationship with Natalie and fight for our future together. At that point, it felt like she was my last hope.

***