Chapter 12

True to Alba's word, she spent the next couple weeks, devising exercises and working with Wesley to deal with his lack of self-esteem when it came to his missing arm. She deliberately told several other staff in the center where his issues were at, so that the staff would make a point of noticing his arm and commenting on it, noticing the improvements he had made over the weeks, noticing how he was adapting to it—even without a prosthetic. Some had some interesting prosthetics for him to consider.

This way Alba hoped that Wesley became a little more accustomed to people talking about it, all in the guise of trying to make him feel a little more comfortable just discussing it. It wouldn't be the same as being out in the public because everybody in public didn't have the same training that the staff in this center had. But definitely this was a good start. She also made him a pouch, with a Velcro fastener. When she brought it to his room several days later and held it out, he shook his head.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's a Velcro pouch, with a strap that goes around your neck," she said. "I stitched it up for you." He frowned at her, and she smiled. "This is a really soft bamboo fabric on the inside." And she reached over and strapped it around his neck and also fastened it onto his little wing. "And it's got a place for your cell phone." She held out her hand, and he put his cell phone in it, and she popped it in. "It's got a pocket to put a few pencils, a couple keys, whatever you want along that line," she added. "And it's got a hook, so you can put something on it. Plus it's got a couple Velcro straps if you want to strap something in." She showed him how it worked.

"Did you figure that out and then make it?"

She nodded. "It's something that might be a little more useful for you in the interim, while you wait for your other prosthetic."

He stared at it in surprise. "I'm really touched. I'm not sure that I want to wear it though," he added cautiously.

She grinned at him. "And I figured that would be your response, but I would very much appreciate it if you would wear it just today, see if it's even useful. If I don't have somebody to try out these things on, I don't know if they'll work."

He stared at her hesitantly.

She nodded. "I know. You don't like the idea. But does it really matter what anybody here thinks?"

"No," he admitted. "Everybody here is dealing with stuff themselves."

"Exactly," she pointedly commented. "So maybe just try it out for yourself and decide for yourself."

He nodded. "Fine, although I'm not sure how useful it would be. Despite my whining, I am quite amazed that you created something like that."

She just raised her hand. "I sew whenever I get a few moments, and it just occurred to me that, at this stage, while you're still trying to get a little more mobile and strengthen up that arm, that something like this might come in handy."

He nodded. "I hadn't even considered that. You're right. So, hey, I'll give it a shot."

"Good." She gave him a big smile. "I'm heading down for breakfast. How about you?"

"Yep, let's go," he said, as he stood up on his prosthetic leg, grinning broadly. "Man, I love these legs." And he walked to her side. "Just knowing that I can stand up as tall as I was meant to be is such an incredible feeling."

She smiled. "I'm really glad that you're enjoying it."

He nodded. "It's foolish, isn't it?"

"No, not at all," she argued, with a laugh. "There's little enough sometimes in our lives that we must enjoy the bit that we do have."

"That's what I was thinking," he agreed. "There always seems to be something going down somewhere that it's nice when it's not in my corner."

At that, she really laughed. "I'm not sure that is exactly the way you should look at things, but I get it. Everybody wants to hope they're not the target."

"And yet sometimes it seems as if we all are targets," he joked.

"And yet it's up to you to turn that around too," she pointed out.

"No lectures right now, Doc. We're having breakfast."

And she smiled because he was getting really good at telling her when she could be a therapist and a professional versus when he just wanted to have personal time with her. And she appreciated that. It might be a challenge having a relationship with him when they did have things to work out constantly, but he had also come a long way in a very short time, and she was proud of him.

She thought about that as they sat down with their respective plates and shared, "I don't think I've told you, but I'm really proud of the progress you've made."

He stopped, fork midair, and stared at her.

"I really don't tell you enough if it's that much a shock to hear me praise you," she murmured.

"Well, it is kind of a shock," he confirmed, "not so much that you don't tell me, but I guess I don't expect to hear it. In the navy, it's not as if you get kudos for doing anything," he explained. "You're expected to do your job and to do it well."

"And I guess they don't really work on that whole positive feedback loop thing, huh?"

"No." He chuckled at that. "And that's okay because I understood exactly what was expected, and I could do the job, and I did it to the best of my ability at all times," he explained. "And it's such an odd thing when somebody does compliment you because you're thinking, Well, dang, I was just doing my job. What's the big deal?"

"And of course it's not a big deal to you," she noted. "But I'm also very aware that this life, this work that you're doing, it's very internal, and sometimes it's just nice to know that other people can see your progress."

"You're right," he agreed, as he popped his fork into his mouth. "It is nice to hear, so thanks for that," he replied, with a grin. "And I have come a ways, haven't I? Even Shane says so."

"Good," she declared. "So it seems you've made progress on many fronts."

"Yeah, I don't even know how much longer I have here," he admitted, staring at her. "I suppose I should figure that out."

"Dani will let you know ahead of time," she murmured, "but I think you still have a couple months."

"Good," he replied. "I still want to see about riding the horses here. Not sure if I need both prosthetics before I can do that. I'll have to ask Shane. Regardless I'm not quite ready to leave yet."

"In that case you're not leaving.… You don't have to go."

"I will whenever the budget runs out," he stated, with a smile, "but I won't go far."

"Yeah? You got plans?" she asked, with a teasing tone.

"Yep." He nodded. "Not only do I have plans but I'll do some retraining in town here."

"Oh, good," she said. "I hadn't heard about these plans before."

"Naw, I was kinda waiting to really decide what I want to do, before I brought it up."

"And you figured it out already?" she asked.

"Not really, but I am talking to a couple career counselors today," he shared. "They're coming out here to deal with more than just me, I guess, but there'll be some sessions, and I will talk to them about my plans and see what my options are, see what kind of money there is, see how many years I could get for training and all that. I'm still contemplating ideas."

"That sounds wonderful," she said. "I'm quite relieved to hear that. Not everybody has plans when they're here. Usually the plan is to just get out of here."

He burst out laughing at that. "I'm guilty as charged in a way," he admitted. "The first thing you want to do as soon as you're here is graduate. But you have to graduate to something," he noted, "and I still need to work out what that something'll be."

"I like the sound of that. So here's to progress." And she lifted her coffee cup and clinked it with his.

"You don't even seem to be too worried about what I will do."

"I'm not," she said. "I know perfectly well that, whatever you decide to do, you'll be a success. You've just got that kind of personality."

He looked at her in appreciation. "Thanks. Sometimes, when you're in these situations, you're not sure you can do what's required of you."

"Oh, I get it," she said, "and you're not alone in that. Even I sometimes think that I can't do what's required of me."

"Yeah, we don't make life easy on you, do we?" he asked, stopping and looking at her. "We don't think about the staff. We don't think about all the pain that you guys go through in dealing with us, and I'm sorry if we've been less than considerate."

She smiled at him. "It's not your job to be considerate, but to focus on healing," she stated. "Still, being appreciated always helps."

"Yeah, that's a big thing, isn't it?"

"It really is," she murmured. "Everybody's got things on their mind, things to do, places to be, and it's so easy to forget the guy caught in the middle."

"And I don't ever want to be that guy," he declared. "I think life is hard enough without it being harder for people who worked so hard to make life easier."

"Good, then chances are, you won't fit into that group."

He chuckled. "I would hope not, but that doesn't mean that I'm all that good at noticing sometimes."

"Just remember to keep up that appreciation, and I'm sure you'll do just fine," she said, with a smile.

"You're very forgiving, and you make it look so easy."

She hesitated. "Am I?"

He nodded. "You are. People say things all the time, but, in your case, I think you really mean it."

"I do," she said. "I would think everybody here does."

"Maybe," he replied. "I don't have to deal with everybody. Shane is a huge part of my world—and you of course—but outside of you two and maybe a couple others, I don't deal with a whole lot of the actual staff here," he noted. "In a way, it's too bad because I'm sure other very special people are here that I would enjoy meeting, but there's also only so many I can keep track of and can work with at the same time."

She laughed. "Otherwise it's information overload."

"And emotional overload," he added. "When you add one more person to your world, you're also adding their hopes and their dreams and their wishes and their likes and dislikes," he explained. "So you have to add people carefully."

"Is this because you've been discarding other people, as we talked about?"

He looked at her and shrugged. "I hate to see it as a discard," he began, "but I've certainly been thinking about who and what I've been calling a friend. And realizing that a lot of the people I would have claimed were friends just aren't. I haven't had anything to do with them in years, and even now I don't feel as if I could necessarily pick up the phone and call them because so much time's gone by."

"Right, so then they're not necessarily friends."

"Exactly, and, if they're not friends, then I put them into the acquaintance category, and that's a whole different story because it means I would have to get to know who they are again. And I have to actually want to do that."

"Which you don't really want to do right now, is that it?"

"Right, that's not my focus right now," he said, with a smile. "I'm still trying to deal with all the rest of this stuff happening."

She laughed. "And there's no pressure to do it now either."

"You're right. I was looking at all these people who, I thought, were friends, and a couple in particular who, once they found out about my accident, even though they were also in the navy, I wouldn't consider my friends now," he admitted, "because, let's just say, they didn't respond positively."

"And sometimes," she replied, with a slight warning, "you have to understand that they don't know how to treat you. You're now the one who has changed," she pointed out, "and not everybody's good with change. Yet nobody gets away without having some changes in their lives."

"That's an early lesson, isn't it?" he asked, with a smile. "When you have a major accident, you need somebody out there who warns you that everybody sees you now as something other than human."

"That sounds a bit harsh," she noted, "yet definitely you've changed. You're now injured, and that is a condition all on its own."

"I prefer to say able-bodied," he corrected.

"I like that too," she agreed. "So many people here are used to it, so much so that, if we see people in town on crutches or in a wheelchair, it doesn't bother us. Yet, for many other people, they see mostly the crutches or the wheelchair. Those people have never encountered such injuries as that and don't know what to do with that. Most of the time they feel embarrassed because they want to actually see what you have for an arm, but they know that they can't do it without staring, so then they keep casting these furtive glances to try and get a better look."

"And yet wouldn't it be nice if they would just say, Hey, can I take a close look at your arm?"

"If that happened to you, what would you say?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know. It's never happened," he stated, with a smile. "But, if I thought I could get a normal response from people, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe if I had a Kat design, I would want to show it off."

"True." She had to smile at that.

As it was, an incident happened later that week that made everybody in the center stop, and, in her case, smile. She walked out to the front lobby to see a family waiting to visit with a resident here. She smiled at them, as she moved into Dani's office. "Wow, that waiting room is full."

"Yeah, they're here to see Benji," Dani shared.

As Alba stood here in the doorway, she cast another glance at the family and noted that the little girl didn't have an arm. She was carrying a booklet under her one arm and chatting away to her mother. "Oh, that's nice to see," Alba said.

Dani came to the door, took one look, and then nodded. "Right? That tyke was born that way, so it's an easier adaptation. But it'll never be easy," she murmured.

"No, you're right," Alba agreed. "Now, if we could get Wesley up to that level of self-confidence, up to the level of this little girl, we would be doing just fine."

"Maybe you should call him down and have him see her."

"I don't know if that would be a benefit or not," Alba replied. "I suspect that he would be both upset and happy."

As it was, Wesley walked down the hallway on his prosthetic, busy looking at his e-tablet. When he looked up and saw her, he headed to her. "Hey, I came to talk to the admin because I'm having trouble with my e-tablet here." He held it up, looked around at the waiting room, and his gaze landed on the little girl.

The little girl looked up at him, beamed, put down her book, and raced over to him. "You look just like me," she cried out.

He stared at her and then slowly nodded. "You know something? I think I do. Although maybe I'm luckier than you," he added and pointed to his leg.

She stared at it in fascination. She looked up and asked, "Could I touch it?"

"Sure," he said. He looked at her missing arm. "What happened to your arm?"

"My arm? Oh, nothing. This is the way God made me."

From Dani's office, Alba watched the conversation and saw almost the physical blow to Wesley's heart when the little girl had said that. Alba walked over casually and joined the conversation. "Hey, I hear you're here to see Benji, your dad."

She looked up and smiled. "Did you see his leg?" she asked in that same chatty voice, pointing at Wesley's new prosthetic. "Isn't that cool?"

"It is cool, and he'll get something for his arm too, but it won't be anywhere near as cool as that."

The little girl nodded. "I have a couple at home. I don't really like them though."

Wesley asked in a soft tone, "Why not?"

"Because they don't work. They're okay," she muttered. "Sometimes I wear them when we go out to stop people from staring, but, most of the time, I don't care enough," she said, with a shrug. "People stare anyway."

"And does it bother you?"

She shook her head. "Nope, it doesn't bother me. My friends don't care," she shared, "and my family doesn't care. They love me just the way I am."

He chuckled. "Sounds like you have a special family."

She looked up at him. "Doesn't your family love you the way you are?"

Such sorrow filled her tone, probably expecting Wesley to give her the wrong answer, and she would burst into tears for him. He gazed at her and shook his head. "My family loves me just the way I am."

"Good then," she replied, "so it doesn't matter, does it?"

And, with that, one of the nurses called out to the family, and her mother said, "Annabelle, come on."

Annabelle waved and said, "Bye." Then she raced after her mom.

Wesley turned and looked at Alba. "Dear Lord, talk about messages from the angels."

And then obviously shaken, he turned and slowly walked back to his room.

*

In his room,Wesley sat down on the edge of the bed, almost consumed with what he had just heard and seen. Why had it taken him so long to understand, and yet that little girl got it right away? Then again, she was living with that missing arm, living with the outcome of how God had made her. He loved that phrase, loved that she was totally okay with the way she was. Obviously there were times when she would have gotten frustrated or angry or upset, but she didn't let it hold her back.

Yet Wesley couldn't see that it was just one challenge. He still had his full faculties. He could still walk. He could still function in so many ways, and yet it had taken a little one-armed girl in the waiting area, asking if she could look at his leg and could touch his prosthetic for Wesley to see the naturalness of what she looked like. And her joy when she saw somebody else who looked like her. They were a minority in this world and a minority that he hadn't asked to be a part of, but now that he was here, he had absolutely no reason to be ashamed of it. He let out a heavy sigh. "What a fool," he murmured.

"Want to talk about it?" Alba asked.

He looked up to see her standing at the doorway. He smiled a little ruefully. "Nothing really to talk about," he muttered. "I just need to process."

"Processing's good."

"Annabelle's adorable, isn't she?" he asked.

"She is, indeed," Alba murmured. "Her dad's a patient here."

"Ah, and will her dad look like her too?"

"Yeah. When I was talking to Dani, she mentioned that her father lost an arm and both legs."

"Right," Wesley noted, with a wince. "That would probably help them both bond very well together."

She nodded. "When you think about it, that little girl can help her dad a lot. Help him to adjust. Help him to see who he is now."

"She's good at that," he admitted. "I feel like such a fool." That confession burst out of him. "I've been sitting here, whining about my missing arm, and she's had just one arm for all her life. And you know how mean schoolkids are."

Alba nodded slowly. "They can be brutal," she agreed. "Any group can be, but they don't have to be."

"Right, and she wears her arm sometimes when they go out," he shared, "but most of the time she can't be bothered."

"Meaning that, in other words, she's already adjusted, and, if people have things to say that she doesn't like to hear, she ignores them."

He smiled and nodded. "That's an attitude I need to cultivate."

"It is one you're cultivating," she pointed out, with a bright smile. "You just aren't aware of it yet, but you'll be fine."

"I guess," he replied. "And every time I feel sorry for myself, all I need to do is picture Annabelle."

She laughed. "Well, I'm glad Annabelle came today then. Seems it was a worthwhile visit from our perspective, even if not from yours."

"Oh, it was a worthwhile perspective on mine too," he declared. "If nothing else, it's a reality shake-up that I needed."

"Good," she whispered.

As she went to walk away, he asked, "Hey, you up for going to the pool later tonight? I feel as if I need to go."

"Sure, anytime. Maybe just buzz me when you want to meet up."

"Sounds good—and thanks."

She turned to smile at him. "You know that you don't need to say thanks, right?"

"Maybe not," he replied, "but, right now, it feels very much as if I do need to say thanks. So I might overdo it for a while, but it's, again, a process."

She smiled. "In that case, it's all good."