Cabin at the Lake Ch. 03

I do my best to crush his fingers as I answer, "No, no, no, no and no."

He nods and steps toward the foot of the bed and presses down on both legs. "Raise your legs. Good." He puts his hands on the bottom of my feet. "Step on the gas. Both feet. Hard as you can. Good."

He steps back toward the head of the bed. "Excellent. You had quite a nasty little subdural but the brain itself looks okay. You can have liquids but no solid food until morning. Your nurse, Julie, will set you up with the house's finest clear salt-free broth. It will taste wonderful, tonight at least. Tomorrow, not so much."

His mouth, involuntarily I'm sure, twitches into a smile when he speaks Julie's name. Satisfied he has established his dominance and made clear he knows he's a bit of a tool, he leaves.

Julie swallows a giggle. "Never seen anyone have him eating out of their hand that fast." She grins down at me. "He's single you know."

I see Gary glare out of the corner of my eye. "Hhm? I suppose it would be unethical to ask him out until after I'm discharged."

The bandages come off the next morning. Both brothers are in attendance as I get my first look at my hair. I've always been vain about my hair. Terry had not gotten a hold of mom until after I was out of the OR. He convinced her I was fine and not to rush home.

I want to go home the next day but Dr. Mallory pulls a stern -I-am-the-doctor-here look and tells me I'll be here at least a week. When I begin to protest he cuts me off.

"It was a small subdural but it was still a subdural. You bleed into you skull. You had enough pressure on your brain to make you comatose. You've barely been out of bed and don't think I haven't noticed you're a little weak and a little clumsy in your right foot. So, in a word, 'shut up'. You are going up to the rehab floor and you are going to have several days of therapy and when I decide it is okay for you to go home. I will tell you."

I give him a look that would have my brothers ducking for cover. He's totally unfazed. Damn it. Glaring having failed I resort to pouting.

"'Shut up' is a phrase not a word, so 'in a word' isn't really correct is it?" Not even a flicker of irritation crosses his face. "What if I leave against advice?"

He shrugs. "You could. You won't. You're not that dumb." With that he leaves me fuming.

He sticks his head back in the door and I swear he's hiding a smile. "Hypertension is not good for a healing brain Donna. Take a breath and relax or you'll be hooked up to an IV for your blood pressure."

Smug bastard. I consider throwing a pillow at him. He seems to know it and seems to know I won't. He makes no effort to hide his smile as he leaves, of course that is probably because Julie has come up beside him.

"Problem Dr. Mallory?" She intones sweetly.

"Not really. Ms. Augustini was adjusting to the fact that she doesn't get to walk out of the neuro ICU, barely two days after having a craniotomy and trot off home."

"Can we send her upstairs?"

"By all means. I already ordered a PT/OT consult. What's the name of that old ex-Marine dragon lady they have up there? She'd be perfect for Ms. Augustini."

He actually chuckles when I pull back a pillow to throw at him.

"None of that." Julie admonishes through a grin as Dr. God walks away.

"This is crazy. I don't want to stay here another week."

Julie shakes her head. "You'll be surprised how weak you feel when you are up more. You'll need a few days to get some strength back and let the pain in your hip ease up a bit."

In the end it was a day short of a week of rehab. There was no dragon-lady of course. I was surprised that Julie stopped by nearly every day, either before or after her shift. Dr. Butthead I saw every day and every day he enjoyed demonstrating his authority, however temporary it might be, over me. I tried to stay mad at him but failed miserably.

"Seriously?" I asked when he said her was discharging me, half afraid he was teasing me although I knew that was not the type of teasing he would find amusing.

"Seriously." He assured me.

"Give me my clothes."

"You weren't wearing any clothes, just a bathrobe. I hope you didn't have a sentimental attachment to it. The last I saw of it the ER crew had cut it off you in pieces."

"Nope, it was just a bathrobe. I'll tell my brothers to bring me some clothes. Hell, I'll go home in this backless gown and cute little yellow pajama bottom you force me to wear. I can really go home today?"

He nods. "Your brothers mentioned you were starting med school in the fall." I nod. "Where?"

I'm embarrassed to tell him. "Harvard."

He nods. "Nice work. They'll bust your ass but you'll be fine. If you notice problems concentrating or studying don't be bashful about telling them you've had a TBI, traumatic brain injury. They'll work with you. Do you have any idea what you want to do yet?"

"Oncology."

"Medical or surgical?"

I shake my head. "I'm not sure."

He stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Doesn't matter. You'll be great. Julie's right you have a way with people. Most people never get me, what did she say? 'Eating out of their hands'." He smiles, a real smile. "Since your discharged I suppose you could ask me out. You're still my patient so it would be unethical for me to say 'yes' but you could ask." I must blush because he laughs. "One little detail Julie left out. We're engaged."

Julie chooses that moment to come sweeping into my room. "Hush, Dr. Mallory, only half the state knows I'm taking pity on you." She winks at me. "Beat it boss, let me get this young lady ready to go home."

He pauses at the door. "How's the hip and your head of course? Do you need something for pain?"

"No. Ibuprofen is a wonder drug."

He nods. "I'll give you something a little stronger just in case but if you don't need it don't take it."

"What about activities?"

"You can't drive for another month. There's a small chance of seizures still. You'll have to keep the incision dry for 6 weeks, tape a piece of plastic wrap over it. If it does get wet, pat it dry. I'll see you in ten days or so to take out the staples. If the headaches get worse, you have pain, swelling or redness at the incision call my office."

"Can I exercise? Swim?"

He shakes his head. "No swimming, you need to keep it dry, but even after you shouldn't swim or do other activities in which having a seizure means you're going to die."

My worry must have shown because he steps back to the bed and rests his hand on my foot.

"The likelihood of a seizure is very low, but not zero. I want you to be careful, that's all. You can walk for exercise but no strenuous exercise, like running, for three months. You are more vulnerable to a second injury so I recommend no contact sports in the future, no hockey, soccer, etc."

"What about sex?"

He shakes his head and my heart sinks. "Not for six weeks. During orgasm the blood pressure spikes to as high as 160 to 180 even in healthy people. I already told you high blood pressure is a bad thing for a healing brain. So, sorry but no sex."

Julie looks at me a little too thoughtfully for my comfort. "I thought you just broke up with your boyfriend?"

She has me there. "This is Texas. You don't go to a honky-tonk for the music."

Dr. Mallory shakes his head and turns to leave.

"Dr. Mallory?"

"Hhm?" He half turns.

"What about masturbating?"

He thinks for a moment. "It is true the HR and BP don't spike as high with a masturbatory orgasm as a coital orgasm."

"I love it when you talk dirty doctor." I drawl, smirking at him. Julie hides a chuckle behind one hand.

Dr. Mallory simply looks at me. "Would you like an answer to your question?" Trying to appear properly chastised but still smiling, I nod.

"If, and I mean IF, you have not had any headaches with routine activities around the house and no other neurologic symptoms, remember the ones we discussed?" He pauses until I nod. "Good. As long as you can do typical housecleaning chores, climb a flight of stairs, without any headache or other symptoms, then you may masturbate to orgasm."

He says this as if offering absolution, which I suppose he is.

Julie is all business. "Seriously, take it easy for a while. If you need something for pain, take it. Don't get all macho about it."

I can't get the boys, cell reception is the shits in the boonies. They are surprised and worried I'm going home too soon. I politely but firmly tell them to shut the fuck up before they screw the deal up. Gary goes to buy me clothes to wear home. Terry fusses around worse than my mother. He's been very reserved around me. I'm anxious to get home and have some time to talk with him alone.

I want to kill Gary when he returns. He comes back with a pair of cut off Daisy Duke shorts that show the bottom crease of my butt cheeks and a tank top with a pair of hand prints over the boobs and a logo that reads, "I love my mechanic".

He refuses to go get something else.

"I don't want them staring at your head. Get dressed, no one is going to see you anyway."

I'm standing looking at myself in the mirror, ignoring Gary's smile, when Julie comes in with the mandatory wheelchair to take me down to the lobby. She doesn't even pretend not to laugh.

"Where did you get that outfit?" She squeals.

I jerk a thumb at Gary. Julie raises an eyebrow at him. "Nice work."

"Don't you dare take his side. Look at me. I look like a white trash slut."

Julie nods in agreement. "Pretty much, yeah."

Dr. Mallory strides in, does a double take, opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head and then gives in to his smile.

"You let your brothers bring you clothes didn't you?"

I nod.

Mallory turns to the broadly grinning Gary. "Excellent. I have an older sister. Next time she visits I may call you for advice," he intones solemnly.

"Happy to oblige doc," Gary chortles. "The only way to keep women from the running the world is for us to stick together and oppress them."

Dr. Mallory shakes his head sadly. "I don't think my future wife will allow any oppression."

Gary shakes his head in mock sympathy. "Pity doc, that's a real pity."

Julie harrumphs at the two of them and slips an arm through mine. "Screw them Donna. You want me to go get you some other clothes honey?"

I square my shoulders, push my breast forward against the tee shirt. I can't blame him for not bringing me a bra, I rarely wore one.

The smile slips off Dr. Mallory's face and transfers itself to his fiancé's. He takes a sudden interest in whatever is visible outside the window.

Without another word, Julie settles me in the wheelchair and we make our way out of the unit. The boys follow. I imagine having Dr. Mallory escort me out was a special treat. Julie tells me later that he makes a point of walking all his patients out of the hospital if he possible can She tells me that's when she realized he wasn't a total ass.

"Guys, slow down when you get off the highway. Don't bounce her around too much if you can avoid it."

"Will do doc." Gary replies and shakes his hand. Terry shakes as well but remains silent. Gary leans out of the driver's window.

"You fish doc?"

Mallory looks embarrassed. "No, but Julie loves to fish."

"Bring her out some time. Place is still more holes than cabin but the lake has some of the best bass fishing around here."

"Sound fun." He nods and Julie does the same.

I look past Gary. "Bye Dr. Mallory. Thanks for putting a hole in my head."

"You are very welcome. I think at this point you can call me Mark. Bye. Call if you have any problems."

--

It's late afternoon by the time we get on the highway. The old Ford's AC had given up the ghost around the time Dubya's old man woke up to realize some slick dude from Arkansas had beat him out of a job. I don't mind. The sun feels great and the wind whipping my hair over the denude spot on my scalp feels strange but sort of good as well.

The sun and the wind dry me out. I ask Gary to stop at the 7-11 when we get off the highway. We are almost home but I'm parched.

I climb down out of the truck and stretch. I can feel Gary's eyes on my chest. Gary is fine. It's Terry I'm worried about.

I lean back in the window. "I'm going to grab a Coke. You guys want anything?" Gary says "no". Terry shakes his head.

"We need anything at the cabin? Milk? Eggs?"

"Nope," Gary responds for the both of them. "Terry stocked up last night. He said you would be coming home today."

"Okay then." I go inside, said "hi" when the kid behind the counter says "howdy". I grab a Coke and decide to get a second one for later. The cold air from the cooler makes me shiver. I can feel my nipples crinkle. I keep a straight face as the kid behind the counter stares at my nipples. I pay, trying to think of a reason to bend over and let him ogle my ass in these ridiculous shorts Gary has bought. I can't think of one.

I wedge my change into one of the pockets and pick up the Cokes. I don't know what comes over me but as turn I pause with my hips cocked at an angle. A throw the kid a glance over my shoulder.

"Are these shorts too short do you think?" I ask sweetly.

"No ma'am," he stammers. "They look pretty near perfect to me."

"Aren't you sweet honey?" I tip him a wink and walk to the door, slowly.

Gary is grinning as I approach the trunk and I wonder how much he saw through the store's dusty windows.

I walk around the truck and climb in the back seat beside Terry. He glances at me but doesn't speak.

Gary swivels in his seat. "What are you grinning at sis? Were you teasing poor Randy? He's a good kid, preacher's kid you know?"

"I was not teasing anyone. I wanted a Coke and I wanted to sit by the sweeter of my two brothers for a bit." I wave an imperious hand at him. "You may drive on."

"As you wish Majesty," is followed by, "bitch."

I take a long drink of Coke, relishing the burn. I offer it to Terry but he shakes his head. I try to recall if he's said a word since being in the truck. I screw the top back on and sit the bottle on the floor. Trucks didn't have cup holders when this old beast rolled off the line.

As Gary backs out I scoot over and buckle myself into the center seat. I lean against Terry's side. He stiffens. I reach across his body, take his hand and hold it in mine, and press both against my chest.

As we drive home I can feel him relax, slowly. With one finger he traces the outline of the bandage on the side of my head. I can feel his chest quaking underneath me.

He turns and pulls me into his arms and begins to cry against my shoulder, whispering "I'm sorry" over and over. There's no point in telling him there's nothing to be sorry about until he gets it out of his system. Gary turns on the radio and pretends not to notice. I let myself enjoy the feeling of being wrap in the arms of someone who loves me.

--

He holds me the rest of the way to the cabin after I fall asleep on his chest. Terry helps me to my room. It's clean and smells of furniture polish. New screens shimmer in the windows. A ceiling fan that hadn't been there before stirs the hot, close air of early evening. I stand on tiptoes and kiss his cheek and then each of his red-rimmed eyes before I collapse on the bed and fall fast asleep.

I wake to the clatter of pots and pans. My stomach rumbles. I'm famished. Dr. Mallory, Mark I remind myself, had been correct that first sip of broth was heavenly. By the next evening I had had my fill of hospital food. It didn't taste bad. It simply didn't taste at all.

I stretch, yawn, rub at my scalp where it itches under the edge of the bandage. I press, lightly, and run my finger over the row of staples under the soft cotton dressing. I picture my shaved head, yellow-brown from the Betadine, the whir of the drill and the smell of burning bone. The circle of bone set aside I can see the dura, purple and tight with blood. A shiny pointed silver blade punctures the dura and blood, the color and consistency of plum jelly oozes out. I shake my head to clear it. Yuck. I'm not sure if this is my imagination or a memory I should not have.

I slip my Daisy Dukes over my ass as I cross to my bathroom. I pee for what seems like an hour, wash my hands, splash water on my face and make my way down the hall to the kitchen. Gary's door is open. His bed is a mess, fitted sheet pulled off one corner and the top sheet a balled mass near one edge. I wonder if the boys had been comforting each other in my absence.

Two smiles greet me. It's good to see Terry smiling again. I offer to help, assuming they would refuse and try not sulk when Gary asks me to grate some cheese. He stirs the pot a few times and I can smell his signature dish, posole. A spicy pork stew might sound awful on a warm night, but with a big dollop of sour cream and a nice cold beer it will go down just fine.

Stuffed to the gills, the bowls are pushed back. I had join my brothers in a hearty round of burps. They are sipping their beers. I'm sticking to Coke. My hip is throbbing and I think I might take a pain pill to help me sleep. The good doctor has informed me booze and narcotics don't mix. Well, duh.

I begin to explain why I am no longer freaking out over what we had done.

I don't get very far before Terry cuts me off. "What does that mean Donna? 'Dad told me it's oaky'? That's crazy."

"I mean just what a said. Dad told me it was okay." I am not angry. I would be confused to if it hadn't happened to me.

"But sis that's crazy," Terry insists. "It has to be something to do with the whack on the head. None us believes in an afterlife, pop certainly didn't. And if there is one thing I have a hard time imagining he be okay with, it's his sons fucking his daughter." His voice grows harsh, almost angry. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell. It's just crazy so unlike you."

I shrug. "I know it sounds crazy but that's the way it is." I see Gary open his mouth and close it.

I nod, "Go ahead, tell him."

Gary gives me a funny look.

"Tell me what?" Terry snaps.

I nod again. "Tell him about when I woke up."

Gary looks uncomfortable. "I'm use to doofus being in my head sis, not you." His look lingers on my face a moment longer before his gaze shifts to our irritated brother. "She knew the whole story, the story we told the docs, as soon as she woke up. She told Julie that Chad had been here, that she had some pretty wild sex with him but that the fall was a complete accident." He paused. "I was never alone with her. I hadn't said a word to her about what was going on, not a fucking peep." He rubs his eyes. "I think they were worried we hurt her. That's why they never left her alone with us."

I shake my head. "No, it never occurred to them we might have been having sex but they were worried you were covering for Chad for some reason. Not that Chad needs to be covered, I think he's in Hawaii celebrating his engagement."

Terry picks at his beer bottle. His fingernail makes a soft clicking sound when it hits the glass. In the quiet of the kitchen the sounds echoes. When he speaks I can barely hear him. His eyes are glued to the beer bottle and the pick, pick, pick of his finger.

"They knew we were guilty of something, just not what. It is our fault you got hurt."

Gary is at the head of the table. He moved into pop's spot without any discussion that I can recall. He just began to sit in pop's chair. Terry sits on the built in bench, opposite me. I scoot my chair back and he jumps at the scraping sound it makes. I move around the table, limping a little, my hip has stiffened up, and slide in beside my middle, by ten minutes, brother.

He doesn't move when I drape my arm over his shoulders and lean against his side.

"It isn't your fault." I insist. "Any more than it is Gary's fault. If it is anyone's fault it is mine. You didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to do it. That's why I freaked out that morning. I freaked out when I realized that not only was I not ashamed of what we had done, I wanted to do it again and again. I don't know if that makes any sense."