Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

BEAN

MRIs were not on anyone’s list of favorite things to do, including mine. They were noisy, and if you were claustrophobic in the slightest, they were an absolute nightmare. Lucky for me, that part didn’t bother me, and I was always outfitted with earplugs since my brain couldn’t handle that much noise. Still didn’t make them fun.

They were, however, a standard part of my treatment program, and I got one every three months so the doctors could check for progress…or deterioration. TBIs don’t always show up on a CT or MRI, but mine had from the start, probably because it was a bad one.

Initially, I’d had brain swelling, and I’d been kept in a coma for a week to allow my brain time to heal. Obviously, I couldn’t remember anything from those first weeks, but that wasn’t something I was upset about. I’d been in a lot of pain, apparently, and the doctors hadn’t been sure if I’d survive.

But I’d seen the scans of those first weeks and even an amateur could see things were not good. Big white spots on a brain scan were not a good sign. You didn’t need to be a doctor to figure that out.

They’d been able to stop that brain bleed, but the damage had been done. Parts of my brain would never recover—hence the TBI. But they kept a close eye on how my brain was improving, so another MRI scan it was. The good news was that we could plan the scan and the doctor’s visit on the same day since it was a bit of a drive to the TBI clinic.

This time, Nash had driven me, and we were sitting in the waiting room after I’d had my scan, waiting to be called in.

“You still want me to come in with you?” Nash asked softly. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I want you there.”

“Okay.”

Nothing more was said until we were called in. We made our way into the treatment room, where Dr. Hanley was already waiting for me. She was my doctor at the specialized TBI center and we’d met often enough that I actually remembered and recognized her. Big whoop, right?

She immediately got up and shook my hand. “Bean. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doc. This is First Sergeant Nash Brockway. He was my first sergeant at the time of the accident.”

“We’ve met,” Dr. Hanley said as she shook Nash’s hand. “But it’s been a while. How’s civilian life treating you, Sergeant?”

“Can’t complain, Dr. Hanley. We’re all getting used to our new normal.”

She gestured for us to sit, and we did. “Tell me why you asked Staff Sergeant Brockway to accompany you, Bean.”

I loved that she always gave me agency, even when Nash would’ve been able to explain it much quicker. “Nash says I’ve been having more headaches, and according to my medical log, I have, but it’s hard for me to remember them or see a pattern. He offered to come with me and explain what he’s seen.”

“Okay, we’ll get to him in a minute. Tell me about the frequency.”

I checked my notebook. “At least one severe migraine every week, and multiple days with a light headache over the last eight weeks.”

She sighed. “I apologize for canceling your previous appointment a month ago. You know it’s the plan to see you once every month, but unfortunately, my father passed away suddenly.”

“I understand, Doc. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

She gave me a sweet smile. “The man was eighty-nine and died doing what he loved most: fishing. My mother found him in his fishing chair by the creek behind their house. What a way to go.”

It sure was.

“I’m sure we’d all sign up for that, given the chance,” Nash said. “But it’s still hard to lose a parent.”

“It’s part of life, but yes, it’s not easy. Anyway, let’s talk a little more about your headaches, Bean. Do you remember if you feel them coming?”

“With those severe migraines, I do. I’ll always have a light headache when I wake up, which I note during my self-scan. The other ones, I don’t remember.”

“Sergeant Brockway, any insights you can offer there?”

Nash nodded. “It seems to me he’s grown more sensitive to light. Whenever he’s outside for a prolonged period, he gets headaches, even when wearing sunglasses.”

Let me tell you, it’s the strangest sensation to have someone else remember things about you that you don’t. I had no clue what he was talking about. Absolutely none. But I didn’t doubt he was right. Nash was rarely wrong, and he missed little.

Dr. Hanley made a note on her computer. “You may want to look into wrap-around sunglasses,” she told me. “They’re not stylish, but they could prevent issues.”

I dutifully wrote it down—not that Nash wouldn’t remind me if needed. “I gave up on caring about outward appearances a long time ago,” I said with a shrug. “If it prevents headaches, I’m in.”

“Anything else, Sergeant?”

“I’ve noticed that his reboots, for lack of a better term, are more frequent. He’ll be disoriented for a few seconds and need to restart his brain as he describes it.”

That actually sounded familiar. I’d had one the other day, hadn’t I? When I’d been with…

Rhymes with Derek.

Jarek.

I’d had one with Jarek. Of course my brain would recall that, but not the man’s actual face.

“Sound familiar, Bean?”

“It does. I know I’ve had a few recently.” I checked my book. “I’ve written four down, but I think there may have been more.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You started a new job, correct?”

“Yes. I’m a cook at Eddie’s, a bar. I love it.”

“It’s not too strenuous?”

“The owner knows about my disability and my limitations, and I have permission to step away if needed. He’s been willing to offer any accommodations I need.”

She gave me a warm smile. “Sounds like you picked a good one, Bean. Employers like that are rare.”

“Zayd’s a great guy,” Nash said. “I met him in person, and I was in awe of what he’s willing to do to offer employment to veterans and people with disabilities. It’s impressive and, as you said, rare.”

“It is, unfortunately.” She checked her notes. “Have you had any impulses to self-harm?”

I shook my head. “That’s been improving, and the visualization stuff is working well now that I actually remember it.”

She wrote a few things down. “Before we go over your scans, are there any other changes you’d like me to know?”

I’d debated this up and down, but in the end, my need for the best treatment possible outweighed any potential embarrassment. “I’m sexually active again.”

Her face was completely neutral. “That’s great progress, Bean. You’re not experiencing any issues during sexual activities?”

Oh, I had not seen that one coming. I flipped through my notebook, checking if I’d made any notes after my second encounter with Jarek. Hmm, I hadn’t written anything down, so that was probably a no, then? I was certain I would have, had something happened that was significant enough to mention to Dr. Hanley. “I don’t think so. Is there anything I shouldn’t do?”

“I wouldn’t engage in anything too rough physically. Normal sexual intercourse is fine, but you may want to stay away from anything where your head gets shaken too much. And no bondage or impact play.”

No what now? Bondage? Impact play? The first rang a bell—something about being tied up—but the second one, I had no clue.

“Bondage is tying someone up with ropes or handcuffs or something,” Nash said, and he deserved points for keeping his face absolutely neutral. Like, totally blank. “And impact play means administering pain through some kind of instrument, like a whip or a paddle, or with bare hands, like a spanking.”

What kind of sex did Dr. Hanley think I was having? She must’ve seen something on my face because she calmly said, “I don’t make assumptions about anyone’s sex life, Bean, nor do I judge anyone’s preferences. I simply answered your questions as inclusive as I could.”

Well, yeah, but awkward much? “Thanks, Doc, but I have no intentions of doing…that.”

“Then you should be fine. Okay, let’s look at your scans.” She turned her monitor sideways and the images popped up. “The good news is that there’s no difference compared to your previous scans. The downside is that we still have a limited understanding of astrogliosis, which is what we call all the changes in your astrocytes, your glial brain cells. Due to the traumatic injury you suffered, your brain cells have changed. Some of those changes are good, as they prevent further degeneration of your brain, but some are harmful. This is a relatively new field of interest, but big steps are being made thanks to improvements in MRI scans. There’s a relatively new method called a multidimensional MRI, which offers far more insights. I want to send you to Maryland to have one so we can see what’s going on. A colleague of mine is doing groundbreaking work for the National Institute of Health, the NIH, and he’s interested in studying your case further. If you’re willing.”

My head was dazzled by so much information at once. I wrote down the first word she’d used, astrogliosis. “Changes in the what, you said?”

“Astrocytes.” She spelled the word for me, and I wrote that down too. Then multidimensional MRI, NIH, and Maryland. That should be enough for me to do some research.

“And he’s interested in my case?”

She nodded. “Because it’s a government institute, it’s especially interested in studying TBI in our military so we can improve treatment. And your case is interesting because your memory issues are so severe. He’d love to gain more insight into that.”

“Would there be any cost involved for me?”

“There shouldn’t be. This would all be through the VA.”

I wrote that down too, then looked up again. “Is there any reason for me not to do this?”

“It’s a lot of hassle for a scan, and it would take time and effort. You may have to take off from work for a few days, but that’s all I can think of.”

That was an easy decision then. Anything that could help me get better was an automatic yes from me. “I’ll do it.”

Next to me, Nash nodded. “I’ll travel with you.”

“You don’t need to?—”

“I wasn’t asking,” Nash said calmly, and that was the end of that particular discussion. “You’re not traveling that far by yourself, not when a moment of disorientation could have consequences. I’m coming with you.”

“I think that’s a very smart idea,” Dr. Hanley said, beaming an approving smile at Nash. “I will reach out to Dr. Woods, my colleague, and I’ll inform you as soon as I know more.”

“Thank you.”

“Was there anything else you wanted to ask?” she checked.

Nash cleared his throat. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

“I’ve noticed Bean remembers movies and books he’s read far easier than real-life events. Why is that? Why does he have no trouble remembering a movie, but he can’t recall if he called someone or not?”

“Story,” Dr. Hanley said promptly. “The difference is the power of story. Movies and books are stories, assuming you meant fiction books. The human brain is wired for stories, and they’re easy to remember because of the cause-and-effect structure. That’s why stories like the Iliad or from the Bible survived for a long time without ever being written down. Real life, however, is much more random and rarely makes sense from a causal point of view, so that’s not as easy for the brain to store.”

Stories. I’d never thought of that, but that was fascinating. “Does that mean that if I tell myself a story around something I need to remember, I might actually be able to?” I asked.

“With your level of brain trauma, there’s never a guarantee, but it’s definitely worth testing.”

I was so going to try that.

Nash must’ve felt the same because once we were back in the car, he said, “How about we create a story about you and Jarek? How you met and everything. That way, it might stick.”

Yup, he and I were on the same page. “Do we start it like a fairy tale? Like: once upon a time …?”

Nash chuckled. “If you’re looking for a happy ending, then sure.”

“It’s just sex.”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“Once upon a time…” Nash started. “There was a cute young man who worked as a cook in a bar. His name was Bean, and he’d recently accepted he was bisexual and was now eager to get some experience with another man. One day after work, he met a dashing stranger.”

I flipped through my book until I found the description of Jarek. “He looked like a silver bear with gray in his chest hair and softness in all the right places. His eyes were a brilliant blue.”

“You could see his chest hair when you met him?” Nash asked.

“Creative liberty. Whatever.”

“It’s your story. Okay, who made the first move?”

“It must’ve been him, but I can’t remember. Maybe he asked if he could sit down? I vaguely recall I misunderstood something and he was sweet about it.”

“We’ll go with that. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and Bean was instantly enraptured.”

“Enraptured?” I snorted. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

“Enraptured.” Nash shot me a look. “When the handsome stranger asked if he could share Bean’s table, he eagerly agreed. Their eyes connected, and something stirred inside Bean. A deep longing to get to know this man better.”

Dang, Nash was good at this. Really good. “When the handsome stranger told Bean his name, he forgot it promptly, but it didn’t matter. Their connection was strong enough to survive that little mishap.”

“The stranger invited Bean to come home with him. Bean, smart as he was, texted his friend Nash the address.”

Oh, I’d forgotten that part. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did. Both times. Very proud of you for remembering that.”

It always made me feel good when Nash said things like that, like he somehow lit up my insides. That probably spoke volumes about my character and how desperate I was for approval, but whatever. He wouldn’t abuse it.

“Their encounter was beautiful, almost magical,” I picked the story back up. I was having fun with this. “The stranger was patient with Bean and helped him through his nerves. He made it an amazing first experience, and Bean was so grateful.”

“They parted ways, but their story wasn’t over yet. They met again in the same place, in the same way. Alas, Bean could not recall their first meeting, and for a moment, everything seemed lost,” Nash said with dramatic flair. “But just in time, Bean realized what was happening and begged the stranger for a second chance. This time, he wrote his name down. Jarek. The handsome silver bear was named Jarek.”

I quickly checked my notes again. “They had another passionate encounter, where Jarek showed Bean how to…” I shot Nash a look sideways. I hadn’t shared those details with him. Not that I didn’t trust him, but sex was still so awkward for me to talk about. But if I wanted to remember it all—and I really, really did—I’d have to be honest.

“I won’t tell a soul, kid. You know that.”

I nodded, relieved he understood. “Jarek showed Bean how to pleasure him orally, and it was perfect. When Bean asked for notes on what to improve, Jarek assured him there were none.”

“Good man.”

“Me or him?”

“Both.”

“Oh, okay. Erm, how do we end this? It’s not exactly a happy ending, right?”

“It still can be. You’re texting with him about a repeat, right?”

I checked my text messages. “Yes, but our schedules aren’t lining up. Hopefully sometime next week.”

“After two perfect hookups, Bean wasn’t sure what the future would hold for him and Jarek, but he knew their story wasn’t over just yet…”

“Oh, that’s good. I like that.”

“Awesome. And now we repeat it until it sticks. Once upon a time, there was a cute young man who worked as a cook in a bar. His name was Bean.”