in her right mind would have dropped that selfish egotistic man in a heartbeat. She probably just found some half-decent guy who paid a modicum of attention to her every now and then. I know she didn’t leave because of me, but I think she might have stayed had I not ignored her as much as my father did. I was so bent on pleasing him. At times, she must have felt like she didn’t even exist. She wasn’t a cynical woman, not for a second. This would probably just make her really sad, but you can bet the irony wouldn’t be lost on my dad.
—The irony?
—Oh yes. I worked all my life at being the smartest I could be. My dad always told me I could make a real difference someday. Most people don’t really have a purpose, a sense of purpose anyway, beyond their immediate surroundings. They’re important to their family but it doesn’t go much beyond that. Everyone is replaceable at work, friendships come and go.
I had the chance to be a part of something much larger than me, but it’s not because of how much I learned, or how smart I am. The one thing that made me special, what made me truly useful, turned out to be my legs. And now I’m about to lose them both.
—What makes you think you will lose your legs?
—The doctor left a few minutes before you walked in. He said there’s no choice but to amputate. Both legs.
—I do not wish to appear insensitive, but you seem to be handling the news fairly well.
—I spend most of my time sitting down thinking, really. That’s what I’m good at: sitting and thinking. I figure, so long as I can do that…I never paid much attention to my body. Didn’t eat that well, didn’t exercise much, didn’t play sports. I do think I’ll miss walking. Walking was good.
—Is that all you are feeling?
—What do you want me to say? Life is unfair. I didn’t deserve this. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think what I’m feeling is all that important. If you can’t get the controls to work for someone else, then it’s all over for everybody. Putting that helmet on was a really stupid idea.
—Guilt is a normal feeling. Some form of resentment would also seem appropriate.
—I’m heartbroken about losing all of this, if that’s what you wanna hear. I mean, who wouldn’t be? I don’t know why, but I keep thinking of that astronaut who got grounded seventy-two hours before liftoff because he was exposed to the…How do you say rougeole?
—The measles. You are referring to Thomas Kenneth Mattingly, II.
—That’s him. I can never remember his name. I’m sure he was pissed. I’m sorry if I’m not devastated enough for you. To be honest, I was pretty sure it was all over when I saw that truck coming. Everything just went…dark. How’s Kara, by the way? She must be pretty shook up.
—She is doing fine. She feels responsible, but she will be OK. She would have come but…
—No, she wouldn’t have.
—Perhaps, but she is genuinely grateful. You might have saved her life. She said to tell you to hurry up and get back home.
—Ryan?
—There is not much I can tell you. He has been reluctant to speak, at all. He is being held at Fort Carson. Have no fear, Mr. Couture. He will pay for what he did to you.
—What good would that do? I’m many things, vindictive isn’t one of them. I can’t imagine how he must feel.
—Love makes people do some crazy things.
—Nah. Love makes you get really drunk and punch through a wall. That man had everything he cared about taken away from him, everything. I did that. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m the one who turned his world upside down. Not so Captain America after all, I guess. I didn’t think he had it in him…I’m sorry, I’m not laughing because of that.
—You find it humorous that Mr. Mitchell is losing his mind?
—No. That it’s you sitting by my bed. Not my family, not my friends—not that I have many—not Kara or Rose, you. Mr. Warm and Fuzzy. It’s like waking up from a coma and having the cashier at the grocery store at your bedside. No offence.
—None taken.
—I guess that’s what they meant when they said to be nice to people. No tears for the narcissistic Québécois.
—I doubt that people would be lining up by the hundreds but, in