"Mom?" Josh said. "Um, mom, like what are you doing?"
"You said that you needed to take a shower sweetie."
"Yeah, but - but I don't get this."
"It's what the nurse said," Karen replied as she finished wrapping the medical tape around the strange plastic bag. It was like a flimsy boxing glove loosely clinging and covering the boy's hand. The tape secured it just above his wrist and she made sure that the seal was snug.
"You're not supposed to get the bandages wet," she explained. "Now give me your other hand."
She knew that it would be uncomfortable for her son. A lot of things would be uncomfortable for a while. And strange. And different. And - awkward.
"Your son's hands are healing nicely," that nurse Lauren had told her. "The doctors are confident that he'll make a full recovery. But life is going to be different for the next few weeks."
"Different?" Karen said as she sat in the woman's office.
She had gone early that morning to bring Josh home from the hospital. After his accident she had been on pins and needles for days, worrying. She was terrified that her might lose all use of his hands. What a terrible situation to be in when you're only eighteen. But slowly, after three operations the doctors began to talk with more and more confidence. Even Josh seemed brighter and more cheerful. And on the day that they told her that he was expected to make a full recovery, her heart leapt with joy and relief. And when they told her that the lad could be released into her care, she swelled with anticipation.
She spent that day cleaning and fixing up his room, so that he'd come home to something nice and comfortable. She made sure that she stocked the refrigerator with his favorite foods, snacks and drinks. She had even called the cable-company and ordered the movie packages, even the on-demand things. She had always thought that it was a waste of good money, but now there was nothing that she wouldn't do for her boy.
She was beginning to feel that things would soon be back to normal. And so the morning of his release from the hospital, she practically danced her way there to pick him up. Then she spent nearly an hour signing release papers and insurance forms, all the while getting more and more eager. But as she was heading down the hall that nice nurse Lauren stopped her and asked her to step into her office "for just a bit". Karen just wanted to bring her son home, but if it meant that she had to go through one more hospital regulation, then so be it. She sat and listened to nurse Lauren, but was taken aback at what she said.
"Different," she repeated.
"Yes," Lauren said. "I'm sure that the doctors have explained to you that while the nerves are mending they shouldn't be strained. You see, Karen there a total of twenty-seven bones in the basic skeleton of the wrist and hand. The hand has three nerves that . . . "
Karen looked at her perplexed.
"Okay," Lauren said with a small chuckle. "I'm losing you. If you're really interested I'll give you a website. The bottom line is that Josh really just can't use his hands over the next few weeks. For anything."
"For anything," Karen said. The woman's words were starting to sink in.
"Correct. You'll have to feed him, you'll have to hold his cup of coffee, you'll have to help him dress, you'll have to help him bathe, you'll even have to work the TV remote for him. And while he may be able to use the speaker option on his cell-phone, guess who has to dial?"
"I do?" she said timidly, then she stated, "I do."
"You see my point? It's going to make things interesting when he wants to call his girlfriend."
"I'll leave the room," Karen said. "I may have to dial but I don't have to listen. You have to understand, Lauren that I will do anything for my son. If I have to feed him and bathe him and work the remote I will. That's what a mother does."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Thank you. Now may I go and get Josh?"
"Just one more thing, please."
Karen wondered about the tone in the woman's voice. She wondered more when Lauren leaned forward, folding her hands on her desk.
"Yes?" Karen said.
"Josh is . . . well he is an adolescent. It's already an awkward time, as I'm sure you understand."
"Oh . . . right."
And so they talked. And as she listened intently and asked a barrage of questions The words to that old song floated into her brain; you don't know what you got till it's gone. That went double for hands.
So, armed with some knowledge and a new insight, Karen told herself that she was up to it. She burst brightly into his hospital room. The nurses already had him dressed and in a wheelchair. And so, festooned with flowers and balloons she happily led the boy out the door and to the car. Josh was excited to be out. She opened his window so that he could feel the sunshine and breathe the fresh air, and he seemed to relish in it.
The first thing he wasted was a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake. They went to the drive-up window, and when they got the order they both looked at the bag. Then Josh looked at his hands, then back to the bag, then to his mother. Karen chuckled. She pulled into a parking space, unwrapped the burger and fed him. And what she feared might be an awkward moment turned into a joke and they giggled and laughed as she fed him. And all the drive home she felt a little proud of herself as they had happily gotten past a first obstacle.
In the bathroom Josh watched as his mother wrapped and taped his hands. He was so self-conscious when she had to undress him down to his shorts. It was embarrassing that she had to lean in and turn on the shower. She made him stick his elbow under the rushing water so that she could get the temperature just right. She even needed to help him in. He was glad that they had long ago chosen to have such a luxurious bathroom installed. It had a corner shower with two glass walls creating a five foot box. Water rained from above and from two sides, and the plush Italian marble tiles retained the warmth of that rain. His mother had always called it a silly extravagance. But now it was heaven.
The water felt so good as he stood under the rushing rain. After all those weird and humiliating sponge baths the nurses had given him it was such a joy to be able to - to be able to - He looked at his hands. He had instinctively held them up and out of the water. Then he looked at the soap.
"Um, mom?" he said.
"Right here darling."
"Um . . ."
She slid the frosted glass door open a crack and peeked. Her eyes were bright and her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She looked him straight in the eyes. He looked to the soap dish. And then she understood.
"Lauren said . . ." she smiled as she reached for the soap. "Ohhhh!"
The water caught her back and pony tail. Her tee-shirt clung to her and Josh watched as the outline of the back of her bra emerged. She jerked away. The soap slipped from her fingers and skittered to the floor, sliding and bouncing off a wall. They both looked at the soap, then at each other. Karen frowned, then shrugged.
"Oh well," she said.
She kicked off her shoes and without warning strode into the shower, shirt, shorts and all.
"Mom!" he cried. "What are you doing!?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"You - you're all wet!"
"So are you," she said.
"B-But -"
"Look, you want to argue or you want to shower."
He stood motionless. Her shirt and shorts began soaking. The wet shirt began to get heavy and cling to her chest. The form of her breasts, cupped by her bra, began to appear.
"This is actually kind of fun," she said.
She bent over to retrieve the soap and her lovely round rear was framed by the clinging cutoffs.
"Turn around," she said.
As she stood the shape of her body was clear through the wet clothes. Her wet hair had a mesmerizing sheen to it. Her hands were so soft and so delicate as she soaped and gently scrubbed him here and there and there. He hoped that the steam in the shower would hide the flush in his face as he felt his arousal. She knelt down to wash his legs and his thighs. She gave a cursory cleanse to his buns. Then she reached around front. He looked aside. She hesitated, then pulled her hands away.
When she was done she stepped out and let him rinse while she dried herself, still in her clothes. She shut the water off and met him with a large plush towel. Her tee-shit still draped her form. She covered him and rubbed him dry, chatting on and on about nothing he could remember.
When she got to his shorts she deftly slid the soaking things off beneath the towel, and gathering the folds she patted him dry. Neither of them said anything about his erection.
As he lay in the comfort of his own bed that night Josh thought about all of the things that he couldn't do without hands for a while. Eating and showering were the first things he encountered. His mom even had to open the car door for him. But slowly he learned what else he couldn't do. Surfing the web was out. So were computer games. He had a pile of homework and while he could read he figured that he'd have to dictate to someone.
He quickly learned that he could work the TV remote with his toes and that made his mom crack up laughing. She was rolling on the couch as he surfed the channels, and when he accidentally hit the volume button and the room blared with Donald Trump on the news she went into fits. That was cool. With his new found talent he figured out how to manipulate his CD player, but putting on the ear-buds wasn't in the cards. His speakers were okay, and his mom didn't complain, so he was able to have some comforts of his own.
But his world was changed dramatically, and without his distractions he started to become frustrated. And the more frustrated he got, well the more frustrated he got. He hadn't been able to masturbate in weeks, and he was feeling so sensitive. Sometimes even the brush of the bed sheet was enough to rouse him. And just that afternoon in the shower . . . he wanted to forget that.
He thought about Jamie. They had gone out a few times. They even made out and she let him feel her up. But then the accident happened. She was cool though. She visited him in the hospital and she fussed and fawned over him and helped him with his homework. She seemed like she liked him. He wondered if he could get her to come over the house sometime. He fantasized about her being sympathetic. He dreamed of them cuddling on the couch under a blanket watching TV, maybe some movie with some kind of hot scene. Maybe she'd understand his need and help him with her hand, or even . . .
He groaned. He had worked himself up and his hard-on was aching. He tried, but the bandages were too rough. He rolled over and stroked himself against the mattress. He fell asleep totally unfulfilled.
