Big Boys Don't Cry
WHN to „Split Second to an Epitaph", September 1968
Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…
Like a satirical song the wheels of the paddy wagon hammered it into his ears:
Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…
Forever your legs will be paralyzed… Forever you will be confined to this wheelchair… Forever you will be a cripple…
Ed Brown drove the paddy wagon carefully, too slowly for Ironside's liking, and equally slowly the wheels sang their mocking song:
Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…
Couldn't Ed at least speed up a little? The Chief was about to bawl at him to do so, but he let it be.
It was as if Brown was afraid of hurting the handicapped man in the cabin of the truck. Or as if he was afraid of arriving at headquarters, where everything would be unchanged.
Never… never… never…
Never would he walk again. Never would he catch a criminal on his own two legs. Never would he stand beside a woman.
For a few days he had allowed himself to hope for a change. There had been signs of feeling in his legs, and the doctor had – however guardedly – encouraged him to undergo exploratory surgery to find out if there was a chance of healing. There was none.
He had told Ralph Fellow's wife that there was something worse than a wheelchair: a box. Right now he could not see much of a difference.
Never would he go on that fishing trip with Ed. Never would he take Eve to a dance. Never would he play basketball with Mark. Never.
Forever would he depend on the help of others.
Mark, Ed, Eve.
They would be faithful to him, as they had been before, of course they would.
He knew that they had pinned all their hopes on this operation, not because they were unwilling to help him, but because they genuinely cared for him.
He was glad that his poker-face was in place. He could rely on that. He could not betray what was on his mind now. Eve, who was sitting opposite him, would notice it immediately.
She would hover over him like a mother hen, which she usually didn't do anymore. Perhaps she would cry. Unlike the men she was able to show her feelings, her sorrow, her heartache. Women were allowed to cry. Probably it made it easier for them to deal with grief. It even made them stronger. Actually Eve was quite a tough woman. She was empathetic, warmhearted and tough. She was wonderful.
Mark was different: When he was worried or sad he became sarcastic. He would attack everybody around him, not unlike Ironside himself. It was his way of dealing with difficulties: ranting and shouting. Was this what he had learned as a street kid, or did he copy the Chief? A little of both probably. At any rate it helped him hide pain and misery behind a façade of annoyance. He was a great guy, kind-hearted, smart and strong.
Ed was probably the most sensitive of the three, but also the clumsiest one.
He was brought up in that 'big-boys-don't cry'-fashion, and he was too well-educated to shout. So he always tried to hide his feelings, and for anybody else it worked quite well. But Ironside knew without seeing him that right now every muscle in his body was taut, and his jawbones were pressed together so hard that it must hurt.
His three friends were as dejected as he was himself, and they did not have his life experience to help them come to terms with it. They only meant well, and they were unsettled about how to deal with him after the unfavorable diagnosis. They needed a sign of reassurance.
He picked up the microphone.
"Sergeant, pull off the road!"
Shocked Eve stared at him.
Immediately he noticed what he had triggered in her memory: She thought of the first time they had come this way, when he had made her call him a cripple.*
Ed would relive the same feelings.
Ironside willed himself to smile.
"There is a nice restaurant to the right. I want to have a cup of coffee there."
He almost heard them exhale.
When everybody had their coffee he started: "Listen, my friends. Ten days ago I was not able to walk, but you were not walking around with your heads hanging ten days ago, were you?"
The three young people nodded, although showing different grades of reluctance.
"Now I am still not able to walk. Why should you walk around with your heads hanging? What's the difference?"
For Ed, Eve and Mark there was a big difference: they had hoped that things would change, and this hope was shattered now. Of course none of them spoke up.
"If I want to have a bunch of people with a doleful expression around me I will tell you. Right now I don't.
I suggest we take this evening off. What would you like to do?"
He saw the worry in Brown's eyes, Will he be up to it? He just got out of hospital… Ed seemed to notice that his mind was being read. He turned his head away. "What…"
Anticipating that the Chief would not appreciate Ed's indecisive answer Eve interrupted him, "I would like to see a nice movie!"
Mark, knowing that Ironside would not be happy in the cinema objected, "No, there's a sensational middle weight fight tonight. I would like to see it!"
Amused Ironside sought eye contact with Ed. "What about you, Sergeant?"
Fervently Brown considered the possibilities. Eve detested boxing. Going to a fight would almost be a torture for her. On the other hand Ironside was known for getting annoyed in a cinema…
The Chief sighed inwardly. Ed would have been a quick-witted guy if only he could stop thinking around three corners all the time.
"I prefer the fight", said the sergeant, deciding that Ironside's needs were more important than Eve's this time. "What about some Rum crunchy ice cream for Eve afterwards?"
"All right, but stop being so reasonable just out of fear from upsetting me!"
Ed was unable to come up with a suitable reply.
Eve knew that Ironside was right but expected an objection: "But Chief…!"
Mark retorted indignantly: "We are not afraid of upsetting you. We are afraid of your ranting because you are upset!"
They were still chuckling when they reached the paddy wagon.
*Ironside, Pilot
Author's note:
I try to respect the timeline of the original series. For the exact succession of my stories see my profile.
