Ive never had a job, Uncle Harrynot a real one. Im not eligible for Social Security.
You worked for four summers at the mill back in Port Angeles.
That wasnt a real job, Uncle Harry. The owner hired me because of my fatherand because I was a football player.
They withheld Social Security from your check, didnt they? Yes.
Then youre entitled. Dont rush out and make any down payments on any castles, though. Whats really got you set up is the settlement you got from the railroad.
Settlement? What settlement?
I told you about that the last time I was here. I had you sign some papers, remember?
To be honest with you, Uncle Harry, there are some big gaps in what I remember. The painkillers sort of erase things.
I suppose they do at that. Well, to cut it short, the railroads insurance company got in touch with me not long after your accident. They made an offer.
What for? It was my fault. I was drunk and driving too fast. It wasnt the trains fault.
You dont necessarily have to make an issue of that, Rafenot that it really matters now, I guess. The railroad didnt want a messy court case. Jurors in this part of the country are a little unpredictable where railroads are concerned. Its cheaper in the long run for the railroad to make an offer in any case where there are personal injuries. Those ten-million-dollar judgments really bite into company profits. Anyway, youll be getting a monthly check from them. I still wouldnt get my heart set on any castles, though. If you dont go hog-wild, youll get by okay. Ill put the moneyyour settlement, your insurance, and your Social Security check all in the bank back home for you. You remember Anderson, dont you?
The banker?
Right. He remembers you from the football field, and hell take care of everything for you. Youll be getting a check every month. I put a few thousand in the hospital safe for you.
A few thousand?
Youre going to have unusual expenses when you leave the hospital, Raphael. I dont want you to run short. Im afraid youll find out just how little it is when you get out on the street. Youre set financially, so you can just relax until you get back on your feet again. Harry stopped abruptly and looked away. Im sorry, but you know what I mean.
Sure.
Ill need your signature on a few things, his uncle went on. Power of attorney for you and your motherthat kind ofthing. That way you can concentrate on getting well and just leave everything else up to me. Okay?
Why not?
Mr. Quillian, Raphael said to his therapist a few days later while resting on his crutches.
What is it, Taylor? the balding man in the wheelchair asked him.
Did you have any problems with all the drugs they give us? Jesus Christ, Taylor! Ive got a broken back. Of course I had a problem with drugs. I fought drugs for five years. How did you beat it?
Beat it? Beat it, boy? Quillian exploded. You never beat it. Sometimeseven nowId give my soul for one of those shots you get every other hour.
All right, then. How did you stop?
How? You just stop, boy. You just stop. You just dont take any more.
All right, Raphael said. I can do that if I have to. Now, when do I get my wooden leg?
Quillian looked at him. What?
My peg leg? Whatever the hell you call it?
Prosthesis, Taylor. The word is prosthesis. Havent you talked with your doctor yet?
Hes too busy. Is there something else Im supposed to know?
Quillian looked away for a moment, then looked back, his face angry. Dammit, he swore. Im not supposed to get mixed up in this. He spun his wheelchair away and rolled across the room to a file cabinet. Come over here, Taylor. He jerked open a cabinet drawer and leafed through until he found a large brown envelope.
Raphael crutched across the room, his movements smoother now.
Over to the viewer, Quillian said harshly, wheeled, and snapped the switch on the fluorescent viewer. He stuck an X-ray picture on the plate.
Whats that? Raphael asked.
Thats you, Taylor. Thats whats left of you. Full front, lower segment. You dont have a left hip socket. The left side of your pelvis is shattered. Theres no way that side of you could support your weight. There wont be any prosthesis for you, Taylor. Youre on crutches for the rest of your life, boy. You might as well get that down in your mind.
Raphael stood on his crutches, looking at the X ray. All right. I can live with that if I have to.
You still want to try to get off the dope?
Yes. Raphael was still looking at the X ray, a horrible suspicion growing as he looked at the savagely disrupted remains of his pelvis that the shadowy picture revealed. I think its time I got my head back together again.
ix
There really wasnt any alternative, Raphael, the doctor told him. The damage was so extensive that there just wasnt anything left to salvage. We were lucky to be able to restore normal urinary function.
Thats the reason Ive got this tube? Raphael asked. The catheter? Yes. Thats to allow the bladder time to heal. We should be able to remove it soon. Therell be some discomfort at first, but thatll pass and the function will be normal.
Then there was no damage to theuh
Some, but we were able to repair thatto a degree. Thats a pretty tricky area to work with. My guess is that even if wed been able to save the scrotal area and one or both testes, normal sexual function probably couldnt have been restored.
Then Im a eunuch.
Thats a very old-fashioned term, Raphael, the doctor said disapprovingly.
Raphael laughed bitterly. Its an old-fashioned kind of condition. Will my voice changeall that kind of thing?
Thats mythology. That kind of thing only happens if the removal takes place before puberty. Your voice wont change, and your beard wont fall out. You can check with an endocrinologist periodically if you like, but it wont really be necessary.
All right, Raphael said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Hed begun to sweat again, and there was an unpleasant little twitching in his left hip.
Are you all right? the doctor asked, looking at him with concern.
I can live with it. Raphaels left foot felt terribly cold.
Why dont I have them increase your medication for a few days? the doctor suggested.
No, Raphael said sharply. He lifted himself up and got his crutches squared away.
In time itll begin to be less important, Raphael, the doctor said sympathetically.
Sure. Thanks for your time. I know youre busy.
Can you make it back to your room okay?
I can manage it. Raphael turned and left the doctors office.
Without the drugs he found that he slept very little. After nine, when the visitors left, the hospital became quiet, but never wholly silent. When he found his hand twitching, reaching almost of its own volition for the bell that would summon the nurse with the needle, he would get out of bed, take his crutches, and wander around in the halls. The effort and the concentration it required to walk helped to keep his mind off his body and its craving.