Me before you…a new chapter 7

In a way, it was the photo gallery that introduced me to Will. It was a silent introduction, of course, and occurred during those early awkward weeks after Camilla had first hired me, when Will still refused not only to talk to me, but refused to acknowledge me at all, except through random snarky comments and embarrassing observations about my ineptitude, I had many painful hours each day to fill in order to earn my pay. Not knowing what else to do, I spent most of those awkward hours wandering Will's house and studying him in those photos, getting to know him. Or, a version of him.

The photos were all "old," by which I mean, pre-accident. In them, a Will I had (and would) never actually meet, lived. He lived smiling and tan in a crisp white shirt and khakis that sat low on his hips, as his eyes followed the flight of a perfectly hit golf ball; he lived on the ocean, his hair wind-whipped and his shirt off, wet skin gleaming in the sun with forearms and abs rippling, as he leaned back against the rope holding a sail; he lived on beaches, tennis courts, bicycles, and mountain tops. And no matter where he lived in those photos, he lived differently than the Will I knew.

I remember how, in those early days, I struggled to reconcile the man I saw in those photos with the man who lay in the bed. The man in the bed was so changed, so far-removed from the man in the photos; different was not the correct word, it was as if they were, literally, two different men.

I loved looking at those photos; not only were they beautiful, but they also gave me hope. It was a strange hope, not one that the man in the photos would return, exactly, but the hope that maybe someone who had attacked life with such lust could recapture at least some measure of it and live again. Because what Will was doing in that bed when we first met was not living; it was existing, but only barely. And, as I would come to learn, it was not happening by choice.

The more I learned of Will, the more I realized that he was no longer the dashing, James Bond-esque bloke in those photos. And that bloke wasn't coming back (ever). There was the obvious, of course; Will could no longer climb, sail, ski, or hit golf and tennis balls. But that's not what I mean; it was his perspective that had changed, along with his body, and because of that, it was no longer fun to look back and reminisce about the good old days. He was not an old man, looking back on a life well lived; he was a young man, cursing yesterdays that passed to quickly and tomorrows that would never come.

Now, Will's mountains and oceans were everyday tasks. He still enjoyed a good fight, but the fights he fought now were very different than those he'd faced before; the stakes were higher, but the battles were much less sexy. And he fought them against himself – mind and body. He fought over things like breathing. Sounds simple, but Will did it through lungs that had to be coaxed to work even though no matter what we did they still repeatedly filled with fluid that he couldn't cough up. There were innumerable battles to fight and while Will fought valiantly, it exhausted him. And while the man he had been before was still inside him, Will had changed in ways that made it impossible for him to ever recapture the particular type of joy he'd had before. It had been a physical joy that came from looking the world in the eye and feeling ready to conquer whatever came at you.

Anyway, I think it was for all of those reasons and more that Will had Nathan take those photos down. And I think it's part of why he didn't talk to me about it before hand or ask me to help. One day, months and months later, I came in and they were just gone. Not wanting to upset Will, I waited for a quiet moment to ask Nathan where they'd gone. He took a moment to answer. I had to ask twice. When he answered, he did so without looking up.

"Rubbish bin," he said.

Disbelieving, I raised an eyebrow at him. When he didn't reply I felt the blood drain from my face, "Truly?"

He nodded.

I felt sick. I spluttered, trying to form a coherent though, "But…who?" I finally managed.

"Me."

Then he added, "Will's idea."

Again, I was at a loss, and spluttering. "When? Why?"

Nathan took a beat, seeming to look for the right words. Finally he just shrugged. "Does it matter?"

I didn't hesitate, "You shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have what?"

"Taken them down! Where are they now, really?"

"Gone."

"Are you mad?!"

Nathan just looked at me.

I was furious now, really glaring at him and breathing hard. "How dare you?"

He continued to look at me without speaking for a long moment before he spoke, calmly and slowly. "They were his photos."

I felt slapped. Tears came into my eyes. Blinking madly I tried to fight them, but they spilled stupidly down my face anyway. I turned away.

Nathan didn't say anything. He just waited. When I finally composed myself enough to turn and face him again he was just waiting, looking at me sadly, but not unkindly. He was right, of course. And the very fact that I'd not considered the simple fact that they were indeed Will's photos was painfully humiliating; and the fact that I, of all people, hadn't seen this right off the crack was the very reason why it was so important. This realization dawning, I felt disappointed in myself for not seeing it sooner. I didn't need to explain this to Nathan though. He just nodded and drew me in for a hug.

It was ages before anyone mentioned the photos. It was Will who brought them up. We were sitting in the living room, just the two of us, me reading a book aloud. When I finished the chapter, Will jumped in, suggesting that we try to take some new photos. "Adventure photos," he called them. Beaming, I looked up from to book to Will's face, thrilled with the notion of him adventuring. I went to speak but before I begin, Will smiled and said, "Yes, Clarke; but this time, we'll use you as the subject."

"Gawd, blimey!" I sputtered, "Me?"

Will smiled. "You."

"Are you mad, Will?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "Me?"

I raised one of mine back at him.

"Clarke, just think about it," then he added, "please."

I paused for a moment, "Thought about it. Still at no."

"Why?"

"Well, I … Because, Will, I …" I struggled to put into words what felt like plain common sense, but came up empty.

Will kept his eyes on mine, watching and listening with what I felt sure was mock earnestness. When I paused, he smiled encouragingly, "Go on, Clarke."

"Ugh! Because, Will I am not athletically inclined and I don't enjoy 'adventures' as you call them. They frighten me."

He thought about this for a moment. "Everyone enjoys something though, Clarke; everyone's got something a little bit frightening and a bit enticing too, that's what makes an adventure an adventure."

"Will, no. Just no."

"Come one, luv, play along," he lowered his voice, drawing me in with his eyes, "name just one thing you'd do, Clarke - if you knew for certain that you couldn't fail."

And so it went, until finally we agreed that I might like to try rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing.

"One time," I told him, just one time, "for you, Will."

He laughed at that, told me I'd love it, and then excused himself to start working out the details of his plan. He wanted to do it before I changed my mind, he said, with a wink.

The morning of, I woke up with a serious case of the collywobbles, but I put on a brave face. Nathan drove us to the gym for my private lesson. Things looked a bit dodgy when we arrived because, although we'd told them Will was in a chair and they'd assured us there was a ramp to enter the building, they'd neglected to mention the three steps leading down from the sign in area to the climbing area. It took some time, but we sorted it by using the portable ramp we always traveled with. It too was a bit dodgy, but it did the trick.

Don, the owner of the gym (and my private instructor for the day) hit it off with Will right away. Nathan and I might as well have been invisible as they sat chatting while Nathan and I first set up the ramp and then set to work on the tripod and camera. All the while, Will and Don prattled on about climbing; clearly, Will was in his element, (even if I was not).

Once the ramp was set, the basics were explained and reviewed, and I was harnessed up, I was out of reasons to procrastinate. Don started me out on the lowest wall with the largest holds; I think it was for children, actually, but I didn't care; I was still a bleeding wreck by the time I was halfway up; my heart was pounding and my hands were sweating like crazy, but what really did me in was that Will called out, "you can do it, Clarke!" Hearing his voice, I turned my head to look at him. I was intending to give him a winning smile, but when I looked, I realized how far below me he was -and it absolutely turned my stomach so that, instead of smiling, I nearly passed out! Gripping the rope for dear life, I managed to squeak out, "Down! Please, down, please."

"What?" Don called up.

"Down!"

"You've got this," Don replied encouragingly.

"No," I replied, "No. I can't! I can't do it!"

"Not with that attitude, you can't, Clarke!" Will called up at me.

This got both Don and Nathan laughing, which annoyed me so much that I forgot how scared I was. Taking a deep breath, I raised my eyes to the bar at the top of the wall – to what Don had called the summit – "You can do this," I said to myself; and before I knew it, I was there. I had done it!

Everyone cheered. Will and Nathan hooted and hollered as I descended, Nathan snapping pictures the whole time. My knees absolutely buckled as a I hit the ground, but Don caught me before I fell and pulled me back to a standing position. I caught my breath and leaned on the arm of Will's chair, as he beamed at me. "Nice job, Clarke," he whispered, adding more loudly, "I knew you could do it."

"Over here!" Nathan called, Will and I looked over and Nathan snapped another photo. We laughed, but Will's face quickly turned serious and I realized he was scanning the gym, looking for my next route. After a moment, he found it; nodding slightly, Will gestured with his eyes to a taller wall; Don followed his gaze.

"Ah, good call; yes, let's go to that," Don said, nodding at Will and stepping toward the next wall.

Rather unexpectedly, I followed him, willingly, and without even thinking about refusing. It was then that I realized I was actually enjoying myself. With this realization, a combination of triumph and relief bubbled up inside me, and I burst out laughing and headed over to my next mountain.

I climbed for hours that day, not wanting it to end and climbing until my body was too exhausted to do anymore. I was so tired, in fact, that I don't remember many details beyond what I've written here; the rest of the day is a blur. The good news though, is that we have plenty of photos to help us remember it by.

Will and I actually put those photos, along with hundreds of others, around the house, in a new photo gallery that extends from the entrance foyer all the way into Willa's nursery. Sitting on her bedside table are two very special photos; one is of me summiting that very first wall, the other is of Will on one of his mountain tops. That one, of course, is from the old gallery. Will had Camilla bring it over, along with a few others from her collection. I'm glad he did.