the Anders I know.”
I grind my teeth, my jaw ticking in an attempt to keep my emotions in check. But something inside of me snaps. Everything I’ve kept from Creed for months burns like lava as it flows from me.
“That’s because the Anders you knew is dead, Creed! The Anders you knew used to be able to run. Could fly a fucking helicopter. Could fire a rifle and hit a target 300 meters away. Now I can barely even hold the thing steady, and that’s on a good day. My legs and hips are constantly sore from just walking. Oh, and this morning? I had to sit down to take a bloody piss because I was so damn dizzy. So excuse me if you don’t think I’m the same Anders. I’m not. The sooner you wrap your head around that fact, the easier it’ll be when part of your job assignment is cleaning up my shit and piss.
“You can stand there and judge me for not doing enough to keep Nora here, like everyone around me seems to think. But at least I saved her from spending the rest of her life married to a goddamn cripple.” I slink to a nearby chair, collapsing into it, fighting against another dizzy spell. They seem to be happening more and more lately, especially since Nora left. I lower my voice, sounding defeated. “I sacrificed my happiness so she can have a chance at being happy. So she could be free.”
“Anders…,” Creed begins, slowly walking toward me and sitting in the chair beside mine. “You don’t believe that, do you? Do you honestly think she wouldn’t be happy with you simply because you don’t live up to this ideal of perfection you have in your mind?”
“You don’t know what it’s like, Creed. To want to make love to your fiancée and aren’t able to. To feel like half a man. Not even. To feel…” I shake my head, gradually lifting my gaze to his. “To feel like a fucking burden.”
“I won’t say I know what you’re going through, because I don’t. I have no idea what it’s like to constantly have my body betray me. But I do know that Nora doesn’t care about that. Hell, she found it in her heart to forgive you even after everything you took from her. That’s how deep her love for you runs, Anders. She doesn’t care if you’ll be stuck in a wheelchair one day.”
He licks his lips, studying me for a beat. “Do you remember your last night together in Los Angeles after driving Route 66? How you asked me to arrange a private showing at the drive-in.”
I swallow hard. “I do.”
“And what movie did you ask they show? What movie was absolutely non-negotiable in your mind?”
“An Affair to Remember,” I say grudgingly, sensing what he’s getting at.
I’d originally requested that movie because the main characters fell in love while traveling. Much like Nora and me, they came from different worlds, had other commitments and obligations. But regardless of all the complications, they fought to make their dreams a reality. Nicki Ferrante even promised to start painting again, despite destroying all his previous work because it didn’t meet the level of perfection he’d hoped to attain. Those were the lengths he was willing to go to in order to pursue his dream of being with Terry McKay.
But now, the story has a deeper meaning than just two strangers falling in love aboard an ocean liner.
“In the final scene,” Creed continues, “when Nicki Ferrante sees Terry McKay and finally realizes why she doesn’t get up from the couch, does he simply shrug and say, ‘Well, it’s been swell, but have a nice life, you daft cripple’?”
I chuckle, grateful for the break in tension. “No. But—”
“But what? This is different?” he taunts, knowing precisely what my argument will be. “A few of the details might be, but the gist of it remains true here, Anders. He didn’t care she couldn’t walk. Didn’t care she was stuck in a wheelchair. That she might be a ‘burden’ in some people’s minds. What did she tell him?”
“Creed…,” I beg, the mere thought of those words like a knife to my chest.
“What. Did. She. Say?” he repeats, firmer.
I blow out a long breath. “‘If you can paint, I can walk.’”
“Exactly. What happened the night of that accident was a tragedy. But that’s precisely what it was. An accident. You weren’t drinking. You had what we now know was an MS