refused to even consider buying a van equipped for a wheelchair. He’d seen them driving down the highways like tall buildings. He’d seen the newer models, loaded up with electronic ramps and levers and sleek handrails. At least whenhe was in their car, he was just an ordinary man sitting beside his wife.
He thought back to the rehab hospital and his physical therapist, Tammy Ann Green. He and Brenda always called her by her full name, as she’d introduced herself this way the first time they’d met. “It’s one of those Southern things,” she’d said, “giving everyone so many names.” She’d been assigned to him while he was in the hospital, and every day at two P.M . her wide, flat face appeared in his doorway. “Danny,” she’d say, “I know you’re awake. I saw you shut your eyes when I walked in. Come on. We’ll make this fun.” She used the word “fun” promiscuously. It was a word Daniel thought defined its users, a word that for better or worse he rarely chose to say. “What is fun about learning to sit again?” he asked her once.
“Think of it as a game. If you give yourself little rewards each time you make progress, it could be fun. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been rewarding you with lots of praise.”
“I’m not a puppy.”
“Fun is a choice we make,” she said. “So is no fun.”
There was one positive thing about Tammy Ann Green. A couple of days a week she worked for a doctor who was researching different types of laser surgery for spine injury patients. If there was something Daniel looked forward to about her visits, it was her updates on the research, though she was always vague and faintly confused about the more technical aspects of the study, as well as careful not to offer too much hope. “It’s a little itty-bitty newborn baby, this procedure. Barely out of the womb. Give it a chance to grow up before you start banking on anything.”
Brenda was able to hide her bemusement at Tammy AnnGreen, and once in a while even allied with her when Daniel was being particularly resistant, when the task before him was excruciating and Tammy Ann Green insisted cheerfully, mercilessly that he continue. When, for example, she demanded that he pull himself across the entirety of the therapy gym using only the parallel bars as support. The first time, halfway to the far wall, his arms began to pulse and his face grew hot and he finally said, “No more.” He looked at these two small women next to him, their arms folded across their chests, so cavalier about being able to stand unassisted on usable legs. “No more.” He looked to his wife for support. Any kind. Physical. Psychological. But she stood there quietly, her mouth pressed shut, and stared at the floor.
Tammy Ann Green said, “You’re almost there.”
“No I’m not. Listen, really, we’ll finish this another day.”
“You’ve almost got it. Get to that wall and we’ll bring you something delicious for dinner. Anything you want.”
“I don’t care about dinner. I want to lie down,” he said. “Brenda, come here.”
Her eyes still on the floor, Brenda looked as if she were the one who had the impossible distance to walk.
He finally let go of the bars and Tammy Ann Green rushed to catch him before he fell to the floor. “See?” he said, shifting in her arms. “I was finished.”
The car creaked and swerved with the wind. Brenda adjusted her hands on the steering wheel. “You know, it’s funny you mentioned Istanbul. I just remembered this dream I had last night that we were there. It was so vivid. We were staying at a sultan’s palace, being served dinner by a cast of eunuchs.”
“Jesus. How royal.” Brenda had gone to Istanbul as a teenwith her family and had her first kiss there. He wondered whether she missed herself as a teen, her old, wide-eyed self.
“You were trying to send your food back. You were saying something like …”—she yawned—“something like the meat was
He thought back to the rehab hospital and his physical therapist, Tammy Ann Green. He and Brenda always called her by her full name, as she’d introduced herself this way the first time they’d met. “It’s one of those Southern things,” she’d said, “giving everyone so many names.” She’d been assigned to him while he was in the hospital, and every day at two P.M . her wide, flat face appeared in his doorway. “Danny,” she’d say, “I know you’re awake. I saw you shut your eyes when I walked in. Come on. We’ll make this fun.” She used the word “fun” promiscuously. It was a word Daniel thought defined its users, a word that for better or worse he rarely chose to say. “What is fun about learning to sit again?” he asked her once.
“Think of it as a game. If you give yourself little rewards each time you make progress, it could be fun. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been rewarding you with lots of praise.”
“I’m not a puppy.”
“Fun is a choice we make,” she said. “So is no fun.”
There was one positive thing about Tammy Ann Green. A couple of days a week she worked for a doctor who was researching different types of laser surgery for spine injury patients. If there was something Daniel looked forward to about her visits, it was her updates on the research, though she was always vague and faintly confused about the more technical aspects of the study, as well as careful not to offer too much hope. “It’s a little itty-bitty newborn baby, this procedure. Barely out of the womb. Give it a chance to grow up before you start banking on anything.”
Brenda was able to hide her bemusement at Tammy AnnGreen, and once in a while even allied with her when Daniel was being particularly resistant, when the task before him was excruciating and Tammy Ann Green insisted cheerfully, mercilessly that he continue. When, for example, she demanded that he pull himself across the entirety of the therapy gym using only the parallel bars as support. The first time, halfway to the far wall, his arms began to pulse and his face grew hot and he finally said, “No more.” He looked at these two small women next to him, their arms folded across their chests, so cavalier about being able to stand unassisted on usable legs. “No more.” He looked to his wife for support. Any kind. Physical. Psychological. But she stood there quietly, her mouth pressed shut, and stared at the floor.
Tammy Ann Green said, “You’re almost there.”
“No I’m not. Listen, really, we’ll finish this another day.”
“You’ve almost got it. Get to that wall and we’ll bring you something delicious for dinner. Anything you want.”
“I don’t care about dinner. I want to lie down,” he said. “Brenda, come here.”
Her eyes still on the floor, Brenda looked as if she were the one who had the impossible distance to walk.
He finally let go of the bars and Tammy Ann Green rushed to catch him before he fell to the floor. “See?” he said, shifting in her arms. “I was finished.”
The car creaked and swerved with the wind. Brenda adjusted her hands on the steering wheel. “You know, it’s funny you mentioned Istanbul. I just remembered this dream I had last night that we were there. It was so vivid. We were staying at a sultan’s palace, being served dinner by a cast of eunuchs.”
“Jesus. How royal.” Brenda had gone to Istanbul as a teenwith her family and had her first kiss there. He wondered whether she missed herself as a teen, her old, wide-eyed self.
“You were trying to send your food back. You were saying something like …”—she yawned—“something like the meat was
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