Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"No," I replied firmly and with confidence and determination added. "I want to do it all myself tonight."

"That's what I thought. I'll be back in about two hours. okay?"

"Yes," I said. He kissed me and left.

Undaunted. I turned toward my room to see just how strong I would be and how high I could rise from the fires of sadness that burned around me. I chose one of my prettiest dresses to wear. It occurred to me that I hadn't bought a single garment since my accident. I had lost all interest in how I looked. whether I was in style or not. That's going to change. I thought. Here Grandmother Hudson left me all this money and I haven't spent a nickel on anything that wasn't a medical necessity. Even though I was in a wheelchair, people still saw my feet. It was still important to have nice shoes, and my hair should be attractive.

I vowed in front of my mirror that I would change my appearance. I would replace this sickly, weak and pitiful look with a vibrant, hopeful one. I could be pretty again. Austin wasn't just saying nice things to make me feel better. I saw it in his eyes, in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching him. He did treasure me. I'd lost my ability to walk, but not to be attractive.

I couldn't deny that I wasn't somewhat afraid of being in charge of my own bathing. I had done most everything else for myself at one time or another. but Mrs. Bogart had always been around when I bathed. I ran the water for my bath and I set out my clothes and then I got undressed and manipulated myself out of the chair and into the tub, but once I was in. I suddenly had this terrible fear I wouldn't be able to get myself out. It made enjoying the bath impossible. In minutes I needed to get out, just to be sure I could. What if I was still here when Austin arrived? How embarrassing.

In my panic and haste to get out, I slipped and banged my arm so hard against the ceramic tile it took my breath away. I started to cry, but then I got myself under control and went about getting out of the tub with more purpose. Moments later. I was sitting on the side, drying myself. I got back into the chair and wheeled myself to the bedroom. With the pain in my arm, it took at least three times as long to put on my clothes, but at least I could do it. However. when I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw how twisted and creased my dress was. I did what I could to straighten it, and then I worked on putting on my shoes. By the time I started on my hair. I was exhausted.

A noise in the bathroom startled me. In shock. I saw I had left the water trickling in the tub and it had finally begun to run over.

"Oh no!" I screamed and wheeled myself back as quickly as I could. I struggled to turn the chair in the small puddle that had already formed. When I reached over to shut off the faucet completely, in my haste. I slipped. Before I could prevent it, I fell into the puddle, soaking one side of my dress.

I screamed and pounded the side of the tub until my right hand ached. Then I caught my breath and pulled myself back into the wheelchair. The wheels tracked water into the bedroom. For a long moment I just sat before the mirror gazing at my rumpled dress and tousled hair. Exhausted, aching and disgusted with myself. I dropped my arms down the side of my wheelchair and lay my head back, feeling a wave of defeat and nausea wash over me. It didn't bring tears: it brought an ugly fury. I lunged at my cosmetics and flung lipsticks and eye shadow tubes in every direction. I swept the vanity table clean and then, in an even wilder rush of madness and frenzy, I hurled my hair brush at the mirror and the blow cracked the glass from top to bottom. Then I let my head fall forward and sat there like a twisted sack of potatoes.

I never heard the doorbell, Finally. Austin who had been ringing and ringing came around the house, looked in the window, saw me and tapped. When I didn't wake up immediately, he opened the window and climbed in.

"Rain, Rain," he cried, shaking my shoulder. "What happened here? What's wrong?" he said gazing around the bedroom in disbelief. Even I was a little shocked, forgetting for a moment all I had done. A cake of perfumed body talcum was spread over some of the therapy machinery and the floor. A bottle of cologne was shattered, its contents spilled near the wall. Everything that had been on the vanity table was scattered and, of course, the mirror was cracked.

"I was doing so well," I began, my lips trembling. "I got myself in and out of the tub and I got dressed and I worked on my hair and... I left the water running."

"What?" He looked back and saw the puddle. "Oh." He went to the bathroom and looked in. "The faucet's off."

"I know. I did that. but I fell out of the chair and I ruined my dress and everything! "

I couldn't stop the tears, my body shaking with their flow. Austin tried to comfort me, laughing and pretending it was all nothing.

"Boy, now I know I better not get you angry,'" he said. "If you did this over a wet dress, who knows what you would do to me?"

I smiled through my shower of tears and he kissed some of them off my cheeks..

"We'll clean this up in a few minutes," he said starting to gather up the things I had flung every which way. "You'll change your dress, brush your hair, and we'll go," he added calmly.

"Oh. I can't go out in public. Austin. I'll look terrible and embarrass you."

"I doubt it," he said. "Go on. Choose something else while I do this. I'll mop up the water in the bathroom."

He left to fetch a mop and pail. I sighed and looked at myself in the cracked mirror. That's really me now, I thought. This image in the glass is really me. I've got a crack running through me just as deeply and as long. I can try to ignore it all I want, but that's the truth. That's what I am.

More out of a desire not to disappoint Austin, who worked so hard and quickly to repair my room, I found something else to wear. I brushed out my hair. but I was not satisfied with my looks. Nevertheless, I let him smother me with compliments.

"You don't need any makeup, nothing on those eyelids could make those eyes any prettier than they naturally are," he insisted. "You're fine. You look terrific. C'mon. I'm starving," he said and after I put on a light jacket, he wheeled me out of the house and into the van as quickly as he could, probably out of fear I'd change my mind. Moments later we were on our way to the restaurant. Austin acting and talking as if nothing unusual had occurred. He was so exuberant and happy, he almost had me believing it.

The restaurant he'd chosen was truly a beautiful place with thick dark wooden beams in the ceiling, eighteenth-century colonial art and furnishings, thick cranberry-red tables and chairs and brass candelabra on every table. He had reserved a table by the window that looked out over a lake. The lights of homes around the lake were reflected in the water, making it dazzle and glitter in the darkness. We had candlelight and wine and a delicious lobster dinner followed with a dessert of orange creme brillee that was so good, it was sinful. Before long, my mood had indeed changed, and we were laughing, holding hands, occasionally exchanging kisses and just simply enjoying each other's company.

When a musical trio began to play in the lounge, however. I grew silent and moody thinking how wonderful it would be if I could get up and dance with Austin. He saw the sadness in my eyes and quickly decided it was time to pay the bill and get me home.

"You've had an exhausting day," he insisted.

I put up no resistence. He tried to keep my spirits up by talking continuously during our ride back, drawing up scenarios for fun days to come, places we would visit.

"We should consider taking a real vacation," he said, have two weeks off in a month. We could take the van and go someplace. What do you think?"

"Sure," I said. I would have agreed to anything, even a trip to the moon. He looked at me and saw that, too, but it didn't stop him from going on and on about it in a desperate attempt to restore my confidence and hope.