I'll never be able to say it enough: thank you to all those who take the time to vote and share your comments on my stories (both the public comments and the private ones). As I've said before, you people are the inspiration for me to continue writing. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! - CM
*****
I smiled as I stood upright on both feet for the first time in about a week. Dr. Khan had, as of this morning, allowed me to walk without crutches, and damn it felt good! I still couldn't do anything more strenuous with my left leg than climbing the stairs (and he wasn't really thrilled about even that), but just being rid of the crutches was one hell of a birthday present.
Yes, today is my birthday; I'm 21 and legal, at last. Downstairs, Mom was putting the finishing touches on my birthday dinner while Grace and Dad got eveything else ready. One of the downsides to being a December baby – at least, I thought so when I was younger – was that my birthday was always overshadowed by the Christmas season. Mom and Dad always got me something for my birthday, and Mom always fixed something special for dinner that night. But, I rarely had blowouts like most of the other kids in our neighborhood did.
I found as I grew up, though, that I actually don't mind all that much. What I get from my family is far more precious than a bunch of cheap junk from a big box store could ever be. Mom, who had inherited the kitchen skills that had made my grandparents successful in the restaurant business, never failed to make me smile with her birthday dinners.
The gifts, while maybe not numerous, were always nice, and thoughtful. But what really made this day special was the company of my family, the ones most important to me in my life. Recent events had emphasized that point dramatically! I had a new resolve to cherish each moment of time with my family, because it will never come again, and one never knows how many moments might be left to cherish in the future.
I carefully made my way downstairs, where Mom, Dad, and Grace were waiting. Hugs were exchanged all around, except with Dad of course. He slapped my back and handed me a beer. "Enjoy it, Son. God knows you've earned it!"
I smiled and took a tentative sip. Like most people my age, I'd snuck tastes of alcoholic drinks on many occasions in years past. I'd discovered that while I didn't really like the taste of most beers, there were some I could tolerate. This stuff, though, was actually pretty good. I made note of the label so I could get more later.
My family sang the traditional "Happy Birthday" song, seemingly each in their own unique key. That was traditional too, all part of the fun. Mom and Grace could actually sing pretty well, and Dad and I weren't bad. Afterwards, we enjoyed Mom's homemade Chicken Alfredo along with a fresh basil salad (her own recipie). Then it was time for gifts!
Mom gave me a really neat multifunction Bluetooth earpiece to go along with the new phone they'd already given me. Dad gave me a ticket from Thor's Guns that would allow me – now that I was old enough – to take possession of a compact .45 caliber Kahr pistol along with 2 spare magazines.
"And as soon as you heal up some more, we'll get your CCW permit application started!"
"Thanks Mom and Dad!" I said. Wow! They'd more than outdone themselves this year!
Grace then stepped forward and handed me a large, bulky gift bag. Curious, I opened it quickly and pulled out a new, very warm-looking winter parka. It had a removable arctic fleece liner, a storm hood that zipped into the collar, and a multitude of pockets both inside and out. It was even my favorite Coyote Brown color.
"Oh WOW, Gracie! This is awesome! But, why did you get me a-"
"Because I'm keeping your old coat," she interrupted, her tone allowing no argument.
"Why?" I asked, confused.
Grace looked at me with eyes full of emotion.
"Because that coat is what you wrapped around me to keep me warm, while you were soaking wet and naked in the freezing cold. While I was unconcious and helpless, you kept me safe and warm while enduring hypothermia for yourself. That coat is more to me than just a garment. Much more! It represents to me the lengths to which you'll go to take care of me."
Grace leaned into me and hugged me tightly, laying her cheek against my chest for a moment. "It's a precious gift that I'm going to keep forever. Of course, that means that you need a new coat, so..." She gestured towards the new one she'd just given me. "I hope you like it!"
Mom and Dad smiled at us, Mom surreptitiously wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "Happy Birthday!" they said.
"Thank you all so much. I love you!"
###
As the days passed and Christmas approached, Mom and Dad made preparations for the holiday, and preperations to get back on the road. They planned to ring in the New Year in Nashville, which was one of their favorite places to visit.
My left leg was healing quickly. Gradually, as the skin and muscle healed and knitted, the dissolving sutures disappeared. Finally, Dr. Kahn released me to get the area wet. He also released me to normal activities. It was such a relief to able to walk around freely again (not to mention being able to attend my classes again, even if it was only in time to sit my semester finals), without having to "take it easy" on my leg.
Grace helped me with some gentle stretching exercises to get me back into my routine gradually. By the time the week of Christmas arrived, I was back on the stationary bike with her again (and still dropping out before she did, too, damn it!) Maybe when the spring rolled around and we could ride outside again, things would be different, but I doubted it.
Christmas morning dawned bright and cold, complete with a fairly impressive snowfall. I was pleased. We hadn't had many white Christmases in this part of Indiana in recent memory. The house was filled with the amazing smell of the spiced cider Mom made every Christmas.
We shared a glass of it together as a family, along with a very light breakfast, before getting down to the gifts! Gracie and I had gone in together and got our parents a beautiful Amish-made quilt with matching shams. Mom loved these beautiful, warm quilts and so did Dad.
Gracie gave me a nice tuckable concealment holster for the pistol I'd received for my birthday. It looked comfortable. I gave Gracie a pretty silk scarf. It was a pale pink with red trim, and featured the Korean Hangul characters for "strength," "love," and "forever." It also had a red pheonix emblazoned boldly across it, which in Korean spirituality signifies the south. Yes, I'm a font of knowledge that has questionable utility. No one will play Trivial Pursuit with me anymore.
As Gracie admired her gift, I leaned in close and whispered into her ear. "As soon as you're finished, meet me in my room." Grace nodded her understanding, and I left her to compare gifts with Mom.
Because they always try to invite the entire family (literally) for Christmas dinner, we always gathered at the steakhouse my Grandparents owned. It wasn't opened for business of course, it's simply the most convenient place we have that can accommodate our huge extended family. I guess the best way to put it is, it's a combination of a family reunion, Christmas party, and dinner all rolled into one occasion. In spite of what I said about our Thanksgiving gathering (which was a good deal smaller), I usually ended up enjoying myself immensely.
However, the restaurant was a two-hour drive from our house and we always helped with setting things up, so I knew we'd be leaving soon.
I hurried upstairs, set my gifts on the dresser, and took a quick shower. On my return to my room, Grace was there waiting. Her eyes wandered appreciately up and down my nude form as she licked her lips seductively.
"Oh, how I wish we could, baby, but there's no time," I said, wistfully. "However, I did have one more gift for you, and I didn't want to give it to you in front of anyone else."
And then, feeling a small amount of nervous tension, I showed her my gift. It was...well, it was kind of a risky thing to give her, especially considering the warning Grandma had given us. But I couldn't help myself.
I had discovered a nice – and unexpected – fringe benefit of college life: you meet all kinds of interesting talented people! Some time ago, I'd met a young woman in the Student Union. I won't bore you with all the details of our meeting, but suffice it to say, she's the only blind artisan I've ever known. You might think it's strange, how someone with that particular disability is able to create such breathtaking artistry in metal, but there's no denying her talent!
She was happy to do a specially commissioned piece for me, for next to nothing. All I had to do was supply her with the raw materials she needed for the job, and agree to repair the extremely complicated interface that allowed her to use a computer without the cumbersome voice interface (the thing she used was tempermental at best, and was notoriously unreliable, like most experimental gear is. But, electrical engineering is MY chosen profession, and I'm pretty good!)
Theresa, (that's her name) with minimal input from me, created a ring that was perfect for my beautiful Grace. The band, though golden in color, was not actual gold. Of course, one could be forgiven for not noticing that. The design, an intertwined pattern of tiny leaves and vines, was so intricate and artfully wrought, that I don't think anyone will ask what it's made out of! But the crowning feature of the ring is the smashed remains of the bullet I had fired into the floor, the first time I'd "saved" Grace.
When I'd given the bullet to Theresa and asked what could be done with it, she'd simply held it in her cupped palm and smiled. "What a beautiful flower," she'd said.
"Flower?" I'd asked, flabbergasted.
"Oh, yes, don't you see it?" she asked. "It's almost like a little rose!"
She ran her nimble, delicate fingers over the fragments of the bullet jacket, tracing their outline. To my utter amazement, with her hands, she was able to "show" me what she "saw:" a pretty, delicate flower made of jagged metal. The remains of the jacket material were the petals. The lump of the lead core was the center of the bloom. The base was the stem...and she envisioned what she would create right there before my astonished eyes.
Over the course of just a few days, Theresa deftly shaped it, trimming here and polishing there, creating a beautiful rose with which to crown her masterpiece. She even applied some sort of coating over the exposed lead core, to make it safe to touch. I was left literally speechless when she delivered the final product to me.
