(Just Like) Starting Over

The only thing stranger than Guy’s strange kitchen was the strange man standing in it, calmly making soup. Fascinated, Guy watched as he moved around the room like he owned it, like he was in his own home. Dane Mathis. He had introduced himself as Dane, right after the doctor had explained that there was nothing wrong with Guy’s short-term memory. “Do you want a sandwich?” Guy didn’t know the answer to that question. It took him by surprise, and it caught him up. A sandwich wasn’t a simple matter. What kind of sandwich did Dane mean? What if he meant a cheese sandwich, and Guy accepted it, only to find he didn’t like cheese sandwiches? Would it be rude to refuse to eat it? How could he function in the world if he didn’t even know what kind of sandwich he liked? “Guy?” Dane didn’t sound annoyed. His brown eyes were patient, the strong features of his handsome face were set an easy smile. Dane had never mentioned his age, and Guy had never thought to ask, but he thought the other man might be in his late-twenties. Or maybe he was a youngish thirty? “I…uh…don’t know.” Dane continued to smile. None of Guy’s vague answers seemed to faze him. Was that something they taught in nursing school? Had Dane gone to nursing school? That was another strange thing—how little Guy knew about his caregiver. “I’ll make one anyway.” Dane shrugged. “It’s fine if you don’t eat it. Though you didn’t eat a lot of your breakfast this morning.” “I didn’t really feel hungry this morning. I’m not sure I like eggs.” “We can try something else tomorrow morning. You need to eat regularly.” Guy nodded. “I know.” “This soup will be done in a minute.” How could Guy function in the world if he didn’t know how to make his own soup? The doctor had promised him it would take a bit of time, but things would go back to normal. The swelling would go down. What swelling? Where? Guy didn’t remember if he asked, or if the doctor had said. His memory should return. His shattered bones—his arm, his femur, a handful of ribs—would heal. Later. Not now. “Do you need anything else? Are you in pain?” Dane’s voice still wasn’t familiar. And it seemed to come from very far away, even though they were both in the strange kitchen. Was that a side effect of the head injury? It might have been. Guy couldn’t remember everything that was said about the head injury. “No. I’m feeling okay.” Guy shifted in his wheelchair. The pain was shattered, ground glass beneath his skin. The painkillers barely touched the pain. He felt the bones knitting together. All day. And all night. The nights were the worse. Something in the dark frightened him. He couldn’t remember what was there. Like a child, he had to learn the secrets of the dark all over again. Dane studied his face for a long moment before nodding. “Have you done this before?” Guy asked. He didn’t care. He didn’t have anybody else lining up to take care of him. A part of him suspected he had asked this before. But the doctor said his short-term memory was fine, and so shouldn’t he remember if he had asked? “A few times. But I’m…new to the job.” Dane began to slice thin strips of cheese. He handled the knife with a delicate precision. Like his hands were accustomed to something besides making soup and cheese sandwiches. “Do you remember what I told you about yourself?” Guy frowned. Somehow, this was the worst part—being asked to repeat basic information like he was a toddler just learning his name and address. He supposed in some ways, he was. Which just heightened the humiliation. “My name is Guy…Guillermo Rivera. I’m from Spain, and I’ve been living in the United States for about five years. All my family still lives in Spain. I’m twenty-seven. I was getting my MBA but…I guess that’s going to have to wait for a while now.” Dane smiled sympathetically. “A little while, yeah. But not for long.” “How can you know that?” Guy was more curious than confrontational. Maybe Dane knew something he didn’t. Maybe Dane was just trying to make him feel better. “The doctor said this is a short-term situation.” “What if it’s not?” Guy didn’t miss the way Dane winced, though his voice remained even. “Don’t talk like that.” “But what if it’s not?” Guy pressed. “What if I can never go back to school? What if I never remember school? What if I’ve lost my entire life?” He moved to run his hand through his hair, but he didn’t have any hair. He didn’t even remember having hair. It had been long. He knew that because Dane had found a few pictures of himself from before the accident. “You haven’t.” Dane’s voice was low and measured, but confident. That tone always soothed Guy. He wasn’t sure why. “You haven’t lost your life. Dr. Benson made it clear that you will recover fully.” “It’s easy for Dr. Benson to say, isn’t it?” Guy asked softly. Dane put his knife down and reached forward, his hand hovering over Guy’s for a split second before he pulled away and focused his attention on the boiling pot of soup. Dane had done that before—come close to touching him, only to stop. And yet, at other times, Dane didn’t hesitate to touch him at all. Times like when it was time to bathe. Or when it was time for bed. “It’s easy for him to say because he knows he is right.” “What if it takes a long time? What if you leave before I can remember?” Dane shook his head. “I won’t. I’m going to stay here as long as you need me. Or as long as you want me.” Guy tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I want you to stay?” “Oh, you know…” Dane turned the stove off and carefully lifted the pan from the burner. He ladled the hot soup into the waiting bowl, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You might get sick of me invading your space and running your life. Sooner or later, you’re going to feel comfortable doing all this yourself. You’ll want to be independent again.” “I don’t think so.” “Why?” Guy wheeled himself over to the kitchen table. It was a little too high to sit at comfortably, but Guy didn’t complain. It was a very minor inconvenience. Dane joined him at the table moments later with two plates. The rich smell of the chicken noodle soup made his mouth water, and the sandwich cut into four quarters made him smile. “Why?” Dane asked again. “Everything is just…too hard.” “It all feels too hard, now. But that’s why I’m here. To help you over the hard spot.” “You won’t leave before I’m ready for you to go, will you?” Dane hesitated, and Guy thought he saw another wince marring his face. But then it cleared and Dane nodded. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready.” Guy blew cool air across the soup, then sampled it carefully. He was more wary of the heat than the taste. Dane did excellent work in the kitchen. “Where did you learn how to cook like this? Your mother?” Dane laughed a little and shook his head. “No. A friend of mine taught me.” “She must have been a good teacher.” “He was.” Dane smiled. “I think his mom taught him, but he was quite the gourmand.” “Was? Why do you talk like you don’t know him anymore? Did something happen to him?” “No. We just grew apart. It happens, you know.” Dane swirled his spoon in his soup. Guy realized he rarely saw him eat. “What would you like to do after lunch?” “What are my options?” “I was actually thinking we could walk down to the park. It’s really nice outside, and you could use the fresh air.” Guy shrugged. He was mostly indifferent to the various things they did to pass the time when he wasn’t at the hospital. Going to the park was nice. Watching television was nice. Looking through his old belongings—his pictures, his books, his clothes, even his toiletries—was nice. Not nice. Fascinating and a little frightening. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” “No, I want to. You’re right about the fresh air.” They ate in silence for several moments. Or rather, Guy ate and Dane simply pushed his soup around in his bowl. It surprised Guy how comfortable they were together. Sometimes, Guy forgot that Dane was nothing more than his nurse. Dane always seemed to know just what he would like to eat, just what made him comfortable, just what he needed at any given time. “What are you going to do tomorrow?” Guy asked as he pushed his empty bowl away from him. “What do you mean?” Guy frowned. “It’s your day off, isn’t it? Or have I gotten the days confused?” “Oh, no, you’re right. It is my day off. I was just going to run some errands, and then be back in time to cook dinner.” “That’s not much of a day off, is it?” “I don’t need much of a day off. You’re not a very difficult patient.” Guy snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, except for the part where you have to dress me, and bathe me, and occasionally remind me of who I am.” “Yeah, but you’re pretty patient with me, so it all evens out.” “Why don’t you ever eat?” “What?” Dane glanced down to his full bowl. “Oh. Guess I’m just distracted. Do you mind waiting while I finish?” “Not at all. So don’t you have any family or a girlfriend or anything to visit on your day life?” Dane shook his head. “No, not really. My family doesn’t live in the area, and I’ve been single for a while now. I guess you can say I’m married to my job.” “How did I get so lucky to be assigned a caregiver like you?” “I wish we had never met. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? But I’d rather have never met you than see you in this condition.” Guy looked down to his mangled body. The bruises he had sustained in the accident had finally started to fade, and the lacerations from the broken glass were starting to heal. The physical injuries were awful, debilitating, but he could live with those. But his memory…God, his memory. He wished he had a better guarantee that it would return. “No, I get it. I mean, I really like you, and I wish we had never met.” Dane’s lips thinned momentarily. “We could watch a move tonight. One of the DVDs from your collection.” “I guess that’s one positive thing about this experience. All the firsts I get to have again.” “I guess so.” Dane finished his soup quickly, then gestured at the table. “Let me straighten up here. Once I get the dishes done, we can go out. Do you want to watch the news or anything? I can get you set up in the living room.” Guy shook his head. He had never admitted as much, but he hated being alone. Perhaps a part of him was afraid that if he was left by himself, he’d confront nothing but emptiness. He didn’t want to learn he was empty. “No, I don’t mind waiting in here.” “Watching me do dishes isn’t terribly fascinating.” “I like your company. If you don’t mind.” “No,” Dane said softly. “I don’t mind at all. I like your company, too.” * * * * Dane collapsed on the couch, his eyes half-closed, his limbs like lead weights. He had never done anything so exhausting in his life. Not that playing nurse was particularly exhausting. Guy’s needs were not extensive. And honestly, he enjoyed some of the tasks. He liked having an excuse to cook three meals a day for Guy. He liked taking Guy out for his daily stroll through the park. He treasured the time he spent with Guy. But being near Guy wore him out. It left him feeling like he had been through a dozen rounds with the heavy-weight champion of the world. Every single day. By the time Guy fell into his fitful sleep, leaving Dane alone to finish the chores for the night, he just wanted to curl up on the couch and try to recover from the day. Of course, he couldn’t do that. There was still so much to do. And he didn’t like leaving Guy alone, even though technically, he was supposed to go home while Guy slept. Guy didn’t seem to mind when he camped out on his couch, and Dane was even in the habit of bringing a few changes of clothes and his shaving kit. Some nights, he just couldn’t leave. Some nights, the thought of leaving Guy alone, afraid in the dark, confused, lost in his dreams, tore out his heart. Dane flipped through the television channels idly. There was nothing on television, and nothing he wanted to watch, but he appreciated the company. Sometimes he wondered if Guy could tell he wasn’t a very good caregiver, or an experienced nurse. But if Guy had any complaints, he never voiced them. Dane wished he would, though. Guy never complained about anything, except things that were out of Dane’s control. Guy complained about the way he itched under the casts. He complained about how his leg hurt. He complained about how awkward and uncomfortable he felt in his chair, and how he hated to be trapped in bed. Each complaint made Dane ache for him. All Dane could do was attend to each and every comfort he reasonably could, and if possible, see to the problems before Guy could even notice a problem existed. But Dane didn’t know how long he could keep this up. It was nice to pretend that this was his job, and that he didn’t have his own life to deal with. He had enough money to take an extended break from work—and thank God they hadn’t just fired him outright when he asked for two months—but by the time he returned to work, his savings would be depleted. Guy just assumed his insurance would cover it, and by the time he realized his health insurance had nothing to do with this arrangement, the truth would probably be out in the open. The thought of the truth being out in the open made his stomach twist. He fought the sick feeling by pushing himself to his feet and heading for the kitchen. He needed to prepare Guy’s lunch, since he planned to be gone in the middle of the day. He forced himself to take a partial day off at least once a week. Not because he wanted to get away from Guy, but because Guy might become suspicious if he didn’t have the standard days off. He might become suspicious if Dane behaved as though he were Guy’s lover instead of Guy’s nurse. Dane paused once he reached the kitchen, certain that he had heard a sound from Guy’s room. He listened for a long moment, but didn’t hear anything else. Even so, he turned off the television and held his breath, waiting for any signs that Guy was in some sort of distress. It happened most nights. And Guy’s frustration at his helplessness increased tenfold when he woke up, unable to do the most basic thing like go to the bathroom on his own, or even get a glass of water. In the silence, he didn’t hear a cry for help, but he did hear a soft whimper. It wasn’t even childlike. It was the sound an injured dog might make. Dane didn’t need to hear it a second time. He hurried into the bedroom like it belonged to him, too, and turned on the small lamp near the bed. Guy was thrashing on the bed—as much as he could thrash in his casts—and his face was ashen and dotted in sweat. Dane reacted without thought, moving automatically to the bed. Guy reached for him without opening his eyes, his free hand clawing at Dane’s shirt until Dane wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. Dane was accustomed to the torture of touching Guy by now, but this was different. This wasn’t professional, careful contact. This was Guy clinging to him for dear life. This was Guy’s familiar body, pressed against Dane’s in a familiar way, while the intimate scent of his soap and sweat and sleep filled Dane’s nostrils. “Guy…Guy…wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” Guy tightened his grip. He was vibrating, his teeth chattering despite the warmth of the bedroom. “Guy. Shhh. It’s me. It’s me, and you’re fine.” “Dane?” “I’m here.” Now that Guy was awake, Dane knew he should release him. But he pulled Guy closer, letting the other man bury his face against his neck. “What happened? What is it?” “I…I don’t know. I’m not sure. There were so many lights. Flashing lights. And so much screaming. And I was trapped. I could feel something warm going down my neck, and all I knew was that I needed to escape, but everything was dark and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move.” Dane swallowed. The crash. Sometimes Guy had nightmares. They were getting worse now. More and more of his memories were breaking through the black curtain that shielded him from his past. “It was just a dream.” “It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream. I felt it. Oh, God, Dane, I felt it.” “I know. But it’s over now, Guy. It’s over and you’re fine. You’re going to be fine.” “Don’t leave. Dane. Don’t leave me.” Dane’s heart swelled into his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. But Guy couldn’t see him nod his head, so he forced sound past his lips. “I won’t, Guillermo.” The name slipped out unconsciously, and he stiffened, waiting for Guy’s reaction. “Is this what remembering is like?” Guy eventually asked, his face still tucked into Dane’s neck. “Because I don’t think I want to remember.” “It’s better to remember, Guy. You can deal with it then. It won’t sneak up on you like this. And it means you’re healing. Physically, I mean.” “Is that really what happened to me, though? Did I actually remember the accident? Or did my mind just…just piece together a possible scenario?” Dane didn’t know if Guy was asking because he really wanted to know, or if he just needed assurance that the nightmare had been just a nightmare. But the nightmare hadn’t been just a horrible dream. “I’ll tell you what happened, if you want to know.” “I do. I didn’t before.” Everything in Dane’s body resisted, but he gently eased Guy back to his pillow and slid his arm out from beneath Guy’s shoulders. Guy still looked ashen and troubled in the dim yellow light, but his breath was even, and Dane couldn’t justify holding him all night. “It happened on the ten…Interstate 10, just outside of Pasadena. You were coming home, from dinner.” Dane took a deep breath. He knew a number of details for a fact, and the other details, he pieced together from what he knew about Guy. He had been eating at his favorite restaurant in Pasadena. He had been celebrating his six-month anniversary with Oliver Chase. He had not been drinking that night, though Oliver had been very intoxicated. Dane would not reveal these facts right now. He didn’t want to explain why Guy’s boyfriend was MIA. “You weren’t drunk. The police later determined you were only going about ten miles above the speed limit. The car in front of you stopped suddenly. The driver later claimed he thought he saw an obstruction in the lane, but nothing was ever found. You stopped in time, but the person behind you didn’t. They slammed into the back of your truck going nearly full speed, and you were pushed into the SUV in front of you.” “I was smashed between the cars?” Dane nodded. “Yes.” “Did anybody…did anybody die?” Dane hesitated before answering. “Yes. The passenger is the car that hit you wasn’t wearing her seat belt. She was thrown from the vehicle.” “And everybody else survived?” “Yes. With varying degrees of injury. You almost got the worst of it.” Guy turned his head, long lashes ducking over his dark eyes. “It sounds like I’m just lucky to be alive.” “That’s what the doctors said.” “You’ve told me this before, haven’t you?” “A few times. You might be blocking this memory on purpose. It might not have anything to do with the swelling in your brain.” “Does it make you crazy? Telling me the same things over and over?” “No.” Dane longed to take his hand. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the frown from Guy’s face. “I know this is going to be a long, slow process. And I’m here to help. That’s my job.” “Can I ask you for something that might not be technically part of your job?” “Depends on what it is.” “Will you stay here tonight?” “It was so late, I thought I might crash on the couch.” “No. I mean. In here with me.” “I can’t,” Dane answered immediately. “I’m sorry, Guy. I know why you asked, but I don’t think it would be very…professional.” Guy smiled. An old smile—one Dane hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was playful and welcoming. It was reassuring. It said I know what you’re scared of, but you can trust me. Take my hand. I won’t lead you astray. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” “Guy…” It was impossible to resist that smile. It wormed its way under Dane’s defenses. “I can stay until you fall asleep again, okay?” Guy nodded, though Dane suspected he wanted to try for more. Dane stood and moved to the other side of the bed. Guy tracked him with his eyes. Dane didn’t even remove his shoes. He sat with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched in front of him. It would have been natural for Guy to curl against him, but Guy stayed on his side of the bed, and Dane kept a few inches between them. “I still can’t believe you don’t have anybody waiting for you,” Guy said, reaching over to turn off the light. “I used to.” “Can I ask what happened?” “You can ask, I suppose. I made a mistake. A serious mistake.” “I don’t know if I believe you would make a mistake so serious you couldn’t be forgiven.” “Why?” “I don’t know. Because it seems like you have the patience of a saint.” “Maybe. But I don’t think I’ll be canonized any time soon. You should get some sleep.” “I’ll try.” But Guy didn’t have to try very hard. Within ten minutes, his breath deepened. Dane didn’t relax until Guy began to snore softly. The familiar, rhythmic sound lulled Dane, and he almost gave in to the urge to just close his eyes and drift away. He didn’t. When he was certain Guy was sleeping peacefully, he eased out of the bed and silently slipped through the door. He hesitated in the living room, suddenly desperate for a little bit of privacy. He needed time to gather his thoughts. But Guy could need him again, and he had promised that he’d be there. Dane finished the task of preparing Guy’s lunch for the next day, straightened the kitchen and the living room, and collapsed on the couch, aching and tired. And craving a stiff drink.