Chapter 13 Though I Walk
'Walk towards me Corporal Gold, that's it, now yes, very good, you've mastered those stairs quite well.'
Roger felt dissociated with his body. To learn to walk again like a toddler, only this time without the use of half of what he had before, was mortifying enough, but to have a grown adult coaxing and praising his least little step as if he was truly a waddling toddler, was something even worse. He felt the twinges of embarrassment throughout his body, but he couldn't think about it, not while he was in the process of trying to build muscles in his shoulders to manage the hard crutches beneath his arms and balance himself to do what he was sure a toddler could actually do better. He could only set himself to do the task ahead and not think about what he was doing and let his body take over to do what needed to be done. When he was back at his bed it was another thing entirely. Yes, after it was all over for the day, it was then he felt every bit of the humiliation of the physical exertion.
When his stump stayed hidden behind the blanket, out of his sight and thoughts, he could almost imagine meeting Belle-something he was imagining with greater ferocity as he sat wanting to settle into dreams instead of nightmares-it seemed he had no control over the matter anyway. However, when he had just ended one of those 'sessions' cringing at every ungraceful movement, every wobble, every tumble he took, he saw himself for what he really was. All the hate, all the disgust roared back to bite him and he made himself pull out Belle's letter to reread, and remember why he must keep going. She would not want him, not like that, and he was alright with that (that's what he told himself, anyway), but she was kind to him. She was a beautiful friend that he would work to be worthy of her friendship, just like he had told her he would. She would want him to keep going, so that's what he did.
The following day a small team came by his bed with one of the temporary prosthetics they had spoken of a few days ago. The influx of amputees from the war had caused a shortage of well made/tailored made prosthetics-from what he heard from around him, those who were in charge of such centers and programs as his were speaking to a General Kirk who was obtaining research on the best ways to make such things, but for now, he was to be fitted with a temporary one. He most likely could have had one earlier, but he had insisted that he was old (a relative term, but of the hundreds that surrounded him, he was one of the oldest) and thus could wait to be more physically active. Let the younger ones go, he had said repeatedly, he would still be there when the time came to be fitted. This day was now his turn to don the strange contraption.
It looked a bit like a leg, he supposed, but it was so foreign in every possible way. He was shown how to slip on the brace to fit around his stump and he felt the heaviness of the faux appendage as soon as he tried to take his first step with the aid of the two wooden canes they brought to replace the crutches. What little of his leg he had left, strained at the new burden he now had to carry. His steps were wobbly and strained once more, and what with the weight and the discomfort of feeling the thick casing surrounding his little stump of leg, he was relieved to take the thing off and slip back into his bed, even if he did have to see the pathetic, shortened limb before hiding it under the covers and running his hands over his face, as if he could somehow forget what he had just seen.
'Now here's something that'll cheer you up, I'm sure. And I got you a magazine to look through-I know it's not another book, but this issue has seemed to entertain the other boys and I thought you might enjoy it too.' Her tirade of words as she described the certain points of interest inside the magazine seemed to go on and on, and when she was finally done he even remembered to give her half a smile to keep from scowling and snapping at her to hand over the lovely white envelope in her hand and scoot. She was being very nice, he reminded himself, and it wasn't her fault that he was feeling like half a person and worn out over the whole ordeal. He wanted the process to be over, and also to never leave his bed and have to deal with the grueling process at the same time. He bit back his growl, showed the half hearted attempt at a smile, and even gave her a quick, 'thanks' and she finally did what he had wanted her to do the whole time, give him the letter and leave.
As soon as her back was turned he ripped open the letter. It had been a good two weeks since he had heard from her and he was so worried he had somehow messed things up between them. He had done the math on how long it would take even a delayed letter to get back to him and he couldn't see anything longer than six or seven days at the most. He had gone back through his letter in his mind trying to decipher why she might have been angered-of course, she would have been in her right to not write him at all after he had been so cruel as to not tell her he was alive, but he had argued that she wouldn't have written to him so kindly in the first place if that had been the case. He was never so relieved to receive the white bits of paper, all filled with the loopy scroll he had come to love.
'Roger,
I received your beautiful letter yesterday. The hope that I found in your words has given me such relief. I can tell you suffer much greater than you let on, but I can read every bit of bravery you show as you face each challenge put to you. I admire you greatly, my dear friend.
You were so kind to think of me, though you are going through such a time. It seems my decision was at last made for me, I waited too late.
Granny (my friend's grandmother, of course) came to visit me today. It had been two weeks since I had seen her last and she just wanted to check on me to see how I was getting along. She can be a frightful figure, you see, to those who do not know her. She wears long flowing dresses that remind me of decades gone by, but her hair is piled tall on her head and never a hair moves, for fear of getting on Granny's bad side, I'm sure. She peers at everyone over her tiny spectacles that dangle on the very edge of her thin nose, and those of us who love her as dearly as we do, know of the softness about the eyes and the great love we feel when she hisses at anyone going near those she cares about. My youngest two nephews are not familiar with Granny's ways, and I am certain I've never seen them sit so still upon the sofa as I did this day! I now know that I cut no intimidating figure, and am almost tempted to pile my own unruly curls on top of my head and adopt a pair of spectacles, and try scowling at them to see if they would behave so well for their poor Auntie. I highly doubt it.
She told us then that a cousin of hers, a Mrs. Bleu had lost her husband only a week ago and had asked to stay with Granny until Ruby should return home or the cousin find a new place. Mrs. Bleu, apparently, cannot stand to be near any of her husband's things. She claims her grief is so great that she must auction every article that reminds her of him, and refuses to take any memento, as it might remind her of what she lost. I do not doubt the sincerity of her grief, Granny said that it is very great, but I can hardly imagine wanting to rid myself of everything that belonged to someone so very dear. I will admit that I struggled, at first, with whether it would be difficult to live alone in a house that was filled with my father's memories, yet, I would have never consented to all his belongings being sold if it would have been my choice. I have a couple of his things wrapped lovingly in cloth that I take out when I want to touch something he once touched and remember his great love for me. I now wish I had more things to remind me of him, and I hope that this lady does not come to the same realization too late.
My little nephew, David, is very happy with this turn of events, I think. He and I have become fast friends and I know that an Auntie is not supposed to pick favorites, and I would never admit it to anyone but you, however, if I had to choose, David would most likely win out (and I will not say how slim the margins are).
As to your question on whether I had read Alice's Adventure in Wonderland, the answer is yes, and that I disliked it immensely. It may have something to do with my age at the time ( I believe I was only thirteen or fourteen), but my great love of deep developed plots, or well weaved stories balked at the idea of a tale full of seeming nonsense. Perhaps if I read it now at age nineteen I would have a better appreciation for the way words are used, but as for my previous recollection, I can only remember the ridiculousness of the book. You have certainly inspired me to try it again sometime.
Have you been well enough to go outside, yet? I think a Texas winter is quite mild? Here the snow rages on, though February has come and gone and we are well enough in March that it whispers promises of coming spring while dumping great piles of ice and snow. I long for sunshine and warmth, and hope you've a chance to catch a Texas ray or two.
Your friend,
Belle'
He had, in fact, been forced outside on a day that it had been warm and sunny to take the steps with his new prosthetic. He had hated it, hated every step. He would bear it up better next time, knowing that Belle longed for a little of the sunshine, so that perhaps he could bring some back with him. For he would go and see her, as soon as they told him he could manage well enough on his own. Her letter had him greatly worried for her. She was now stuck with a brother he could sense that she did not care for-he wished he knew all the exact reasons why instead of trying to guess them out by remembering from hints in past letters. He shook his head that she wouldn't yet confide completely with him and tell him what made her want to leave (then again, he hadn't fully confided in her, had he? What a hypocrite he was!). Her descriptions were ever cheerful, yet he worried over every word. When could he get out of this place so he could go and make sure she was alright?
He would work through the difficulties and humiliation-work through the nerves over what he would do once he had seen her and she would look in pity or disgust over his leg and he would then have to once again try to make something of himself in this land, now a cripple on top of everything else he had dealt with before. In all his imaginings he also realized that he had made Belle into something that she could probably never be. What if he met her and all the beautiful words they had exchanged were some sort of facade to a person he didn't recognize?
He realized that this line of thinking was also cowardice and he placed his head in his hands once more, wishing he was something more-had something more and yet finding that he would have to take whatever it was that he did have and do what he could. Suffer the humiliation if he must, it was something he was growing accustomed to, anyway.
…
'Can Belle go with me to the library, Father? She'll know the best books for this project, and then she can help me with the project itself.' David's words were spoken in rapid fire, thinly veiled desperation. Belle would have raised her eyebrows if she dared at the pleading tone in David's voice, but she put on as neutral an air as possible. There would be no show of how much she would give up for an afternoon surrounded by books. It would do no good to do so, if anything he might suspect that she had something to do with the exertion, which she didn't, and would cause David's request to be shot down promptly, if she had any guess.
Morris did cast one quick glance over them, taking in the leather satchel that was waiting to be flung over David's shoulder once he obtained the green light from his father. This seemed to be confirmation that the request was a genuine one, this was Belle's errand day, and while she had yet to be able to read Morris' moods or thoughts, he seemed to be satisfied with the idea.
For once there was no end time that Belle was told would be reasonable for her return. The day was theirs and she nearly had to shush David's glorious yelp of joy on the way out the door until they had biked the full block, away and out of their neighborhood.
David's eyes were lit with immeasurable happiness and a look of hidden scheming had Belle narrowing her eyes across from him, once they had established a steady pace.
'Why does something tell me that you aren't just happy to do a school project at the library with me? Though I would be just as happy if you were that excited to be simply doing a research project on the pyramids of Egypt, but for some reason your face tells me something different.'
David laughed a full laugh, so free of all the apprehension that normally kept him from doing so at his home.
'Mayyyybbeee. But it's a surprise.' and sped past her a little, seemingly unhindered by the cold winds.
The library now felt closer to Heaven than she had ever been, so deprived she had felt of the cozy blanket that the knowledge that she was surrounded by books brought to her. She breathed it in, all at once sinking into the nostalgia of all her library days when she was the lady of the house, making her days full of what she felt was best for her and her father instead of the miserable whims of a stern older brother. She brushed away a tear, but seeing the happiness still evident on David's face made her determined to push away such thoughts and just focus on the beautiful freedom of the day-relative freedom, that is. It seemed her day was now being dictated by a benevolent thirteen year old. As the day progressed, she found she didn't mind so much.
'Belle!' Mrs. Smith, the librarian, whispered as loudly as she could. 'It's been ages since I've seen you! So glad to see you back.' She smiled when Belle exchanged pleasantries.
David took her arm and pulled her to the little nook in a quiet corner that held a table strategically placed for investigative reading, made her sit down, and then pulled out an envelope from his satchel.
Belle brightened. 'Oh David, thank you!'
David smiled with all his teeth showing. 'I thought you might like to read it here, without worry, you know? And I, um…' He dug more things from his satchel. 'Thought you might like to reply and send a letter back while we're out and about.'
He presented her with some lined school paper and one of his pens. She reached out and gave him a large hug-which both pleased him and embarrassed him to no end.
'You have no idea how you've made my day.'
Somehow his smile got bigger. 'It's not over yet!'
Author's Note:
History Stuff:
I mentioned before that Gen. Kirk did much for limb loss care during WW2. One of those things was producing a better made, lighter prosthetic for those who needed it. Around this time (1944) an influx of amputees were coming into the hospitals and there weren't enough prosthetics to give them. The younger soldiers were having a tough time, wanting to be active but being stuck where they were. An abundance of temporary ones were issued, and were used until they could get replacements a year or so later.
So...I am unsure if the nurse would have called him Corporal Gold or not. I imagined so, being surrounded by military men, but none of my research told me one way or another.
While researching limb loss physical therapy, I came across a blog that told the story of a man who got injured very similarly to Roger and also was injured in the same battle and in the same area-I just thought that was interesting.
I also came across some footage on youtube from US hospitals doing some of the exercises that are described in this chapter. Among those videos was a documentary series about a man named Harold Russell who played in 'Best Years of our Lives' (about soldiers in different military branches who were from the same town, dealing with the after affects of the war). If you haven't watched it you need to-it's beautiful!
Story Stuff:
Yes, I was a meanie and made it where she couldn't stay with Granny. However, there is a light at the end of the tunnel for poor Belle. There is a scene that I am very eager to flesh out that means that things need to go the way they've gone.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really liked imagining Roger as a patient, putting a few 'Mr. Gold' ways into his behavior, lol
Thank you for reading! I love hearing what you think!