Chapter
13
A Serialized Story of the
Not So Distant Future
March 28, 2005
Part Eight
Sam awoke the next morning feeling stiff, but stronger than ever. He vaguely remembered dreaming about Gaby, and it saddened him to remember that she was gone.
He was a little surprised to find himself walking almost naturally to the bathroom. His steps were a little short of a normal stride, and his knees and hips ached a bit, but his balance was back to normal, and he didn't feel like he was about to collapse.
It was early, only 6:30 and his mother was still sound asleep. Sam didn't want to disturb her, but he was dying to go upstairs and see his bedroom again.
The stairs were suprisingly easy, his strength seemed to have increased a hundredfold overnight. Sam wondered if the pain killers had been giving him weird side effects. He stepped lightly, the carpeting muffled the sounds of his feet. He reached his room and opened the door.
His room felt cold. It felt strangely empty inside. It looked
basically the same, with the most notable exception being his
computer which had been wrapped in plastic and disassembled.
"Why didn't he just unplug it?" Sam muttered, as he sat on his bed. Looking up, there was a picture of Gaby leaning on the mustang sitting on top of the dresser. The picture brought tears to Sam's eyes.
"Sam?" It was Mom.
"In here Mom."
"You shouldn't be climbing those steps alone." She looked
worried.
"It's ok Mom, I'm feeling a lot stronger. I think those pain pills
were screwing up my balance."
"Well, don't push yourself. I want you to take a bath, not a
shower. I'm afraid you'll fall."
"Yeah, alright." Sam said.
"I'll start running your bath now."
Sam tried to turn the photo around, but that hurt even more. He blew Gaby a gentle kiss and forced himself to look away. He turned his attention back to his computer. He unwrapped the monitor, and the printer first. They were the easiest to reach.
Sam could hear the tub filling, so he turned his attention to getting out some clothes for the day. His clothes smelled remarkably fresh, Sam suspected that his mother had taken the time to wash them before he came home.
The bath felt wonderful, Sam wondered why hospitals didn't include this as part of the physical therapy. Getting out, his body felt more refreshed and stronger than ever. He was also shocked to find his old razor still in the medicine cabinet. He made a mental note to investigate new razors very soon; he also needed to buy some new clothes, or to gain some (much needed) weight. His old clothes hung on him like potato sacks.
"I'm coming down the stairs Ma!" Sam announced, although he felt fine.
Martha rushed to the foot of the stairs: "Take your time dear."
Sam felt like taking the steps two at a time like he used to, but opted for a more conservative approach. Still, he felt great.
"This is wonderful." Martha said. "Does this mean you won't need the wheelchair at all?"
"I don't think so. I mean, I don't know how far I can walk without resting, but I'm pretty sure I can manage now."
"Come, let's eat breakfast. I made us cheese omelets and toast."
"Mmmmm." Was all Sam could say. He might not have memories of the last ten years, but there was no doubt that his body missed having food."
"Mom, could we visit Gaby's grave?"
"Sure, Sam. It's a beautiful place out on the Island, it takes about two hours to get there."
"Yeah, I figured. I should really talk to her family too."
Martha put her fork down, she suddenly looked cross. "There's something you need to know about that."
"What?"
"Well, Gaby's parents blamed you for the accident. They said you were speeding. They didn't even speak to us at the Wake, after it was over Marie (Gaby's mother) told us that they never wanted to see us again."
"Oh Mom, I'm sorry." Sam said. The truth was, Gaby's parents never liked Sam all that much, they didn't think he was good enough for her. "Mom, just so you know, I was speeding that night." Sam looked down at his food, ashamed to face his mother.
"Sam, look at me." Martha said. "Ok, so you were speeding, but you were also an excellent driver. The other car was coming the wrong way down the highway for God's sake!"
"I know Ma, it's just, I do feel like it's my fault too."
"It was an accident Sam. The other guy was stoned off his gourd and didn't even know which way he was going. He actually told the cops that it was the other cars going the wrong way."
Sam almost managed a chuckle at that. He wasn't even sure when he started to remember the accident, but he at least had a vague sense of what happened.
"Well, at some point I think I'd like to see her parents."
"Not untill you're fully recovered." Martha said. "Are you up to a walk out to the store?"
"Sure!" Sam was dying to get out of the house, and the local supermarket was just two blocks away.
They stepped out of the house and Sam took the porch steps a little too quickly.
"Sam!"
"I'm ok Mom, really."
"Don't scare me like that!"
"Sorry."
As they walked down the sidewalk passing rows of semi-attached houses. Sam noticed how many of the houses had changed over the years.
Martha gave her son updates on the various neighbors who had come and gone, chatting lightly and waving hello to everyone they passed. When there was no sign of neighbors around, she lowered her voice.
"You must think I'm nuts."
"I don't Mom, really. But I am worried."
"A few years ago, I was talking to your cousin Kelly on the phone, she had just graduated college and was going to study for her Masters in Paris. I never mentioned it to your brother, but a few months later he made a crack about his commie cousin to Dean."
"That doesn't mean he's bugged the house Mom."
"I know, but there have been other times too. He knows everything that I do. You know that your brother has never been very clever at lying. To be honest, I think he wants me to know, he enjoys the power."
"Holy crap Mom! This is too damned weird."
"Sam, promise me one thing. If you flee to Canada, take me with
you."
Sam was momentarily stunned, but managed to say: "Of course."
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