Page 47 of Everything Changes

The truth slammed into Carey like a hammer blow. It was true, and he couldn’t deny it anymore, that no matter how many times he and Jase had talked about labeling and putting people in boxes because of what they had between their legs, it had not sunk in, and Carey had pushed away the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life because they happened to be of the same gender.

He hung his head, overwhelmed suddenly with grief and guilt. How he had hurt Jase. His best friend. And, he now knew, the love of his life. It was true, wasn’t it? Their friendship had caught fire.

He pulled Jodi to him on a half sob, half laugh, burying his face in her neck and feeling her put her arms around him and hold him tight.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered back. “Now tell me you’ve got some hot friend in your life who’s desperately looking for a woman like me.”

Carey hugged her tight. “No, but it’s now my mission in life to find one.”

They laughed as they clung together, and Carey felt that tightness around his chest ease at last. There was only one more obstacle to overcome, and then he was going to make things right.

THE NEXT morning Carey sat in the conference room with his one and only counseling session of the day. The Army major in the wheelchair before him had been severely burned in a tank explosion and was missing both his legs and one of his arms. His face was extremely disfigured, his body shrunken. An oxygen cannula was taped under where his nose used to be, now just slits for nostrils. He couldn’t speak much since his lungs and vocal cords had been so damaged by inhaling superheated air and gas from the explosion. His wife was devoted to him, checking on his comfort frequently, her eyes warm with affection and love. He gazed up at her with adoration, and it was obvious they shared a deep connection even catastrophic injuries couldn’t break.

Carey had known them now for a couple of years. They came to every marriage retreat, and he knew Kyle’s body was weakening under the strain it was under. The sad truth was it was likely he would pass away before too much longer. The couple had come to the retreat to spend some quality time together amongst people who understood their struggles, and they weren’t really with Carey for counseling that day. They were friends, and Carey knew this might be the last time he saw them together.

As he and Desiree chatted, they both noticed Kyle had drifted off to sleep in his chair. Desiree got up and adjusted his neck pillow, gently touching his cheek as she resumed her seat.

Suddenly she started shaking with anger and grief. “My uncle asked me the other day if I would be ‘relieved’ when Kyle passed. I almost decked him.”

Carey took one of her hands between his own, patting it. “I don’t know him, of course, but Des, maybe he was saying in a very awkward, asshole-ish way that he knew that Kyle’s suffering would be over,” he said gently. “Of course it wasn’t something that he needed to say at all, but it could be his intentions were well meant.”

“I’ve heard variations of that over the years,” she said bitterly. “People implying or outright coming out and asking why I didn’t put him in a rehab center so that I could ‘go on with my life.’ And I won’t judge people who have made that decision for themselves. It hasn’t been easy caring for him.” She pulled her hand from Carey’s and leaned over her husband, fussing with the oxygen tube, checking gauges.

“Des, he’s fine,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”

She sighed, slumping back in her chair, exhaustion on her face. “He doesn’t sleep more than maybe forty minutes at a time. I’m always worried that when I look at him next, he’ll have stopped breathing.”

“Do you have any respite care?”

“Of course, yes. I couldn’t function without it. A home health aide comes and takes care of him at night so I can sleep. Our two children need me too. But every second that I can, I want to be with him and do things for him and with him.”

Desiree closed her eyes, a couple of tears tracking down her face.

“When he left for Afghanistan, I was worried that he wouldn’t come home. The day he left, I prayed to God to just let me see him again, even if it was only for one more day. And he did come home, Carey. He came home alive. I got my one more day. No matter what condition his body is in, he’s still Kyle. He’s still my husband and the man I married. The way he looks at me, the way he talks to me. We can still laugh. His mind is there, and he’s still the man I love.”

She paused, and Carey noticed at the same time she did Kyle was awake and listening to every word. Desiree got up and knelt next to his wheelchair, looking up at him.

She continued softly, “And every morning when I kiss him hello, I whisper to him, ‘Just give me one more day. And if that’s all you have to give me, is just today, I’ll take it.’”

Carey felt a huge lump take up residence in his throat as Desiree laid her cheek against her husband’s chest. Kyle’s voice was raspy and painful sounding, but the words were clearly understood as he said, “I love you, Desi.”

Carey got up, leaving the couple to their privacy and their moment, knowing with a deep sorrow there wouldn’t be many more moments like that left for them. He stood outside the conference room door, his fists and teeth clenched as he fought against the sobs that tried to work their way out of his chest.

Fucking useless war, so many lives lost and so many lives ruined. But Kyle and Desiree wouldn’t consider their lives ruined, Carey thought. They’d had many, many more days together than they’d expected, and it was obvious they’d cherished every one. I’ll take today.

Suddenly Carey flashed back to those hazy memories of the aftermath of his injury, Jase gripping his hand and whispering in his ear, “Hang on, Carey. Get through today, dude. If today is all you can give me, that’s okay. I’ll take it. I’ll take today.” He remembered Jase whispering that over and over, “I’ll take today, Carey. I want every second of it, you hang on. You hear me? Give me today, Carey.”

He remembered how he had fought to hang on, to give Jase that day, every second of that day, how it would have been so easy to let go and drift away into the blackness where there was no more pain or blood or agony. But Jase had wanted today, and Carey had wanted to give that to him. He’d focused on that, fought for that. And he was here now, alive, and he had the chance for a lifetime of love and happiness with a man who knew him better than anyone, who understood him better than anyone ever had or ever would. A man Carey desired above all others, a man who, when Carey thought of him, he thought of love and home and acceptance and belonging. The man Carey loved. And Carey wasn’t with him; he was standing in a room eight hundred miles away, wasting those precious days.

After seeing Kyle and Desiree were okay, Carey hurried to Bill’s office and asked his secretary if he was in. Twenty minutes later Carey was dialing Layla’s cell phone number as he headed to his apartment to pack.

When she answered, he was blunt. “I’m coming home. Is there a concert tonight?”

“Yes,” she said, then went on equally bluntly. “Don’t just show up there and surprise him while he’s in the middle of the show. That’s not romantic, and it would just embarrass him and ruin the night for him.”

Carey laughed as he took his suitcase down from the closet and started stuffing clothes in it. “You’re right. And it would be hard to see him up on that stage and know that I had to wait to get my hands on him.”