He awoke the next day to the prodding of his bedclothes, and saw the nurse stripping the bed.
“Your family is coming at 11 so we decided to give you a wash before they arrive. Don’t worry, I have washed you many times before and I am quite proficient” Nancy smiled at Joe who in return blushed crimson. With a laugh Nancy proceeded to scrub Joe like a swaddled infant. Even if Joe wanted to prevent her ministrations he didn’t have the strength to do so, resigning himself to his fate. Eventually the trauma was over and Joe noticed he had some feeling returning to his extremities. Nancy taught him some exercises to repeat on his own daily such as the moving of his toes, the raising of his knees and the like. “You’ll be getting a proper physio who’ll massage you and help you get back on your feet in no time” Nancy told Joe as he wriggled his toes. “The important thing is to take it slow. Your body has been through a lot” she admonished. Joe nodded absently, slightly distressed after witnessing the pallid state of his body, once the picture of youthful health, now a yellowed mass, like canvas that had been stretched too thin over its frame. The nurse, no stranger to his thoughts quickly added “ you’ll be back in tip top form in no time” wincing as Joe looked at his right arm.
“Could be worse” he said stoically.
The nurse laughed, covering Joe’s body in fresh linen “I’ll bring your family in now, make sure they don’t cause too much of a raucous eh?” she said, and then added winking “ or maybe let them, it might wake the other patients! Wouldn’t that be grand?” With that she sauntered out of the ward, more cheerful than any overworked nurse of the NHS should be. Needless to say she left quite an impression on Joe and he felt somewhat uplifted from the gloom that had previously settled.
Posthaste, his family rushed in, tears in his Nan’s eyes and great wild smiles on his Grandad and brother. And christ, was that his brother? His brother was now a towering 6ft 4 and had the muscles to suit. Like David himself, Joe felt even more self conscious of his weakened state. Darius quickly grabbed his brother''s hand and mumbled some words, followed by whacking his brother in the chest lightly. “Darius!” Sandra admonished, clouting darius in his lower back, for that’s all she could reach now. Her face turned back to doting as she looked at Joe. Doug on the other hand was beaming “good to see ya awake lad, gave us a scare there you did”.
Joe could only smile, embarrassed. “Bloody bike eh boy? Told ya to keep it well maintained didn’t I hmm?” This time Doug received a clout in his back.
“Leave the boy alone Doug you great brute, it was a new bike, who could predict that blasted wire would snap, Thank the Gods you were wearing a helmet though Joe, otherwise” here her face paled and Doug quickly grabbed her hand. “There, there poppet, looks he''s alright now eh. A little beat up is true but he’s with us. Be right as rain in no time eh boy?”
Joe was truly affected by his Nan’s emotions and quickly affirmed to the positive. ‘Truly could be worse’ he thought idly watching his loving family.
An hour went by and finally there was a lull in the conversation. Doug looked at Sandra “ come away now dear, we’re not the only ones who came to see him eh?” Sandra nodded standing up. “Now, I know how you feel about her JJ, and we know what she did, but she has been looking after you almost every weekend since the accident, so let her talk at least hmm?” With that the trio left, after giving Joe’s hand a comforting squeeze. Taking their place at the entrance to the ward was a much thinner Julia, her eyeliner leaving faint streaks down her cheeks. They looked at each other across the room for what seemed an eternity, and finally Julia made her way over.
She sat down beside Joe’s bed, glancing occasionally between her clasped hands and Joe’s face, looking away quickly as they made eye contact. “I heard you have been here every weekend to see me?” Joe finally said. Julia nodded and sighed.
“I know you probably wouldn’t have let me, but selfishly, I just couldn’t just sit around and do nothing, not after I heard anyway”. Her hands twisted and she inspected her nails. “I… I thought you might die and…” she bit back a sob. “I don’t know what I would have done”. She then looked up at Joe, her eyes glistening. “When we, well you know, made love for the first time. I was disappointed, I loved you, I mean I love you and what I had in my mind for our first time made me feel…” She paused to see if she could read what reaction her words were having on Joe. He however would make poker players feel jealous with his lack of expression. Taking a deep breath, she continued “Anyway, I had some stupid ideas that if the first time wasn’t perfect then it meant we were not to be. I know it’s stupid, but we were 17 and young and I had been brought up with wuthering heights and pretty women. I know it doesn’t justify what I did, and frankly I would stab myself before I would do such a thing again. I’m not trying to justify, I just wanted to say that since then, and when you left for Uni, I realised what a fool I’ve been. I love you Joe, since the first day we sat together in Mr. Watson’s explosive class I''ve loved you.” By now tears were falling fast on her bright face. Joe however was silent, yet he couldn’t deny he wasn’t moved. Here he was, a veritable cripple, and a woman he loved was professing her undying love to him. He would have to have been made of granite to feel nothing. “I’m not asking for a second chance, much less. Just let me in your life again, let me be the friend that I should have been”.
Joe swallowed the lump in his throat, finally taking his eyes from the beauty as his side. He wanted to deny her, make her feel the pain that he had felt, the utter rejection and hideous self hatred. Yet he knew, he couldn’t do such a thing, he could no more hurt this woman than he could his own mother.
“The nurse said I’ll need to do various exercises to recuperate” gesturing to his body, “maybe you could help me by getting some book on this subject and helping me recover a bit?”
He looked at Julia and was taken aback by the radiant smile she returned.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Thank you Joe, thank you! You won’t regret this, I promise!”
The day''s excitement had started to take a toll on Joe, and as Julia chatted about how things had changed at Oxford or how the news of Joe’s accident and now recovery had spread like wildfire, Joe slowly drifted off.
—--
The weeks following proceeded quickly from Joe’s point of view. With the repetition of Physio, social visits with various aquaintices and family, and of course Julia’s almost full weekend care. It took him two weeks to get out of bed and walk around freely, a month for his muscles to slowly regain definition, and a full 6 weeks for the doctor to give him a clean bill to return home. He was given an address for a local physio he had to see 4 days a week and various pills. His cognitive faculties were far from recovering, being only able to maintain concentration for a short while on whichever book we attempted. Whilst standing he would get whacked by a bout of dizziness that would almost send him sprawling inducing severe nausea.
Once again he could claim some compensation due to his faulty bike and used the same cold Mr. Stone to take care of business. Needless to say, money wasn’t really an issue for Joe, especially after he had picked up some of his grandad’s spendthrift habits. He found a local gym where he could train and made an attempt to read through some of his old coursework from Uni. Sadly, to his great despair, he no longer had the ability to focus and eventually gave up, hoping that his faculties would return with time. Besides, he still had to learn to become dependent on his weaker left hand, and relearn to write. This project was by far the hardest he had to undertake, considering his damaged brain and nerves, even writing his name was the stuff of fantasy. Still, he persevered, trained and recuperated and soon 6 months had come to pass. Julia had now graduated Oxford with a first distinction, top of her class and prodigy to boot. Her father’s company Tizer had offered her an extremely good deal when they would pay for her masters and eventual doctorate if she worked part-time at the site in Sandwich. She had of course leapt at the offer, a doctorate in pharmaceuticals costing more than an arm and a leg.
Still, when she was home to her mothers in Woolwich, she took to spending most of her time with Joe, reading to him or helping him with his exercises. They would take strolls in all the best parks in London, Victoria, St James, Hampton Heath and occasionally up to Alexandra’s palace to watch the snooker. The Rocket, Ronnie O’ Sullivan was making a comeback and to their great pleasure Ronnie scored a 147 in his first round.
Joe persevered with his reading, yet even a light article was a struggle for him, often becoming dizzy from the focus. Out of losing the use of his right arm, or the loss of rugby and cycling as a pastime, the loss of cognitive function hit him the worst. He had anticipated even if the sky fell, he would still have his wits yet even those deserted him. Yet, he would often look up from his article as he lay basking in the sun in a park, to see Julia sitting demurely, chewing on a lock of hair as she frowned at her own book. Despite himself, he felt happy, finding great pleasure watching her fluctuating emotions play themselves unguarded on her face as she wrestled with whichever novel concept she had discovered. She would feel his gaze up her face, smiling as she looked up.
Sadly, like all good things, it had to come to an end. Julia returned to Oxford to begin her masters after Joe had waved her off from taking a gap year. She promised she would return as often as she could, but how could a masters at Oxford be simple? Joe decided to move out from his grandparents after Darius secured his half of the inheritance upon turning 18. Initially things started off well, he managed well by himself and with the occasional visits from a nurse to check on his welfare kept him on the straight and narrow. He would find himself eagerly awaiting the next visit from Julia, yet similarly how things had played out in their teens, she visited less and less. Christmas came and went, spent with his grandparents, and the following February Doug was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer, a possible effect from mining in his younger years.
By April he had passed, surrounded by his loved ones. Sandra, a yorkshire woman through and through, cried little and with a sniffle looked down as he disappeared back to whence he came. “Blasted man, selfish enough to leave me alone first, we should have gone together”. Joe and Darius held her close, the frail figure disappearing into their embrace.
Sure enough by June, Sandra also passed away silently in her bed. The doctor said it was a heart attack but the boys knew it was a broken heart. She couldn’t bear to spend time away from her husband of 55 years.
The brothers sat in the Dragon’s Roar, holding vigil in the two men''s wake neither saying a word. Julia sat next to Joe, holding his hand tenderly. Darius rose to his feet, raised his glass of whiskey ginger beer, their nan’s favourite, tipping some to the floor. “To nan and grandad” he intoned, downing the glass with a wince. Joe and Julia followed suit, repeating word for word. “To nan and grandad. For they are finally back together”
—----
Darius returned to his University, Durham, where he was taking civil engineering and Julia likewise returned to Oxford leaving Joe alone in Woolwich to take care of his grandparents last will and testament. Mr Stone, now with some white steaks at his temples, was as prompt and efficient as ever, with all concerns completed within a month.
No one can tell you what you are supposed to do with a couple''s lifetime of possessions, boxes of photographs, nic nacs from here and there, clothes, music collections, even the very cutlery and crockery they had eaten from had to find a new home. Joe had experience with such things and after the brothers had taken the keep sakes they wanted, the rest of it was palmed off to charities and homeless shelters alike. “Waste not want not” their Nan would have said, and they too kept this philosophy.
Joe found himself pouring over the photo albums that he had retained, discovering a couple he did not fully know. A youthful couple stared out at him in full wedding attire. Another photo of Doug at a miner’s march. Yet another photo of them at the village dance. Another life, another world. Joe found it hard initially to match these youthful faces with those he remembered, the white haired old man with the perilous glasses. The smiling woman, whose eyes would always crinkle after a particularly good joke. Yet he could see that they were the same.
He thought back on his own life, and felt sadness. His own kids, if he ever managed to have them, would never know these wonderful people that were so formative to him and his brother’s life. They would never know their grandfather whose love of rocks and strange foreign food. They would only know their grandmother as an empty vessel, the soul seemingly having fled to safer, greener pastures. And finally, they would only know their father as a one armed invalid, whose mind was as disorderly as a car boot sale. “What am I to do!” he cried, as the self pity became unbearable. He poured himself another whiskey and flipped open another album.