Long Term - Chapter 10

The teenagers had moved on. I was still sitting on Adam’s lap, his eyes closed. My fingertips traced behind his ears, slid through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

He shivered, which gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. Smiling, I did it again.

Adam let out a long breath. “Rachel…”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.”

I giggled. “Weren’t you listening? We’re disturbing the cityscape.”

Adam didn’t react.

“Kiss me, Rachel.” A moment of silence. “Please.”

Something in his voice made me pause. It wasn't the urgency, although I could hear that clearly. It was the certainty with which he made the request, without opening his eyes. Knowing I would grant it.

I hesitated, then leaned down to him, holding my breath. Adam’s lips found mine, gently. At first almost hesitant, then more demanding. Something tightened inside me and began to rise. I tasted his breath. My heartbeat quickened and warmth spread through me.

Our kiss deepened. Adam’s tongue slipped between my lips, brushed mine, and I gasped into his mouth. My right hand moved under the collar of his shirt, my nails grazing the back of his neck. I felt dizzy.

“Rachel…” Adam’s voice faltered; for a moment his head fell back against the headrest. His eyes were fixed on mine, his breathing uneven. “More…”

I pulled him forward again. Bit his lip, cupped his jaw, pressed our mouths together while the fingers of my other hand traced small circles between his shoulder blades. Faster and faster my hand moved beneath his shirt, gliding over skin and vertebrae. Adam gasped. I felt his muscles twitch beneath my fingers, as if remembering yesterday’s episode.

“Rachel…”

I couldn’t look away from his distorted expression. His eyes found mine, wordless, and I understood. My nails dug deeper, sliding again and again over the spot just below his neck that made him jerk. Again and again, until—

Adam gasped and went rigid. My fingers froze as well. A jolt ran through him, a groan.

Then he slumped forward with a soft sound.

“Oh wow,” I whispered, pressing both hands against his chest. Carefully, I pushed him back against the backrest. With effort, Adam lifted his head and rested it on the headrest. His eyelids fluttered.

It took a while before he spoke. “So… well.” The words were slurred. He seemed embarrassed, his eyes still closed.

“Oh my God,” I giggled, gave him a quick, shy kiss. When he finally blinked up at me, I couldn’t suppress a grin. “Back with me?” I teased.

Adam pushed himself into a more upright position with his elbows on the armrests. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That was… something.”

“Something?”

“Mm…” Adam grinned.

I stared at him. “I can’t believe it,” I burst out, laughing. “We can’t even talk for five minutes without…” I gestured helplessly.

“Without what?” Adam prompted.

“Without you using your superpower. Unfair.”

Adam smirked. “You started it.”

I paused. Had I?

“Come here,” Adam murmured, resting his warm forehead against my shoulder. I stroked his hair, more carefully this time.

“When does your train leave?”

“Soon…” I groaned.

“Will you take me back?”

“Anything else would be irresponsible, I think.”

“I’m not completely helpless,” Adam protested weakly.

“You’re highly dangerous, that’s the point,” I muttered.

“Okay,” Adam sighed into my shoulder. “Five minutes.”

“Deal.”

***

A little later we'd picked up my suitcase at the hotel, I'd paid my bill, and we were sitting at the tram stop. Adam's wheelchair angled in front of me, one foot next to his on the footrests, the other crossed over it. My hand rubbed his knee.

"Do you have anything planned for today?"

Adam shrugged. "Physical therapy later. My sister's coming tomorrow."

Adam's sister was a nurse and drove to the hospital on her days off to take care of Adam. She alternated with his parents. And with me. Without us, Adam would spend whole days in bed because sometimes no staff was available to help him get dressed and with the transfer.

"Will we talk tomorrow evening?" Adam asked.

"Of course. It'll be late for me though."

Tomorrow after work I'd go to the gym and then get some food to take home. Usually I called Adam as soon as I got off the subway and had reception again. The last few times he'd tried to guess what I was eating based on the chewing sounds. He'd been surprisingly close. Probably because I always got food from the same Vietnamese place and usually alternated between three different dishes, which I liked to send him photos of.

I'd never thought I'd be in a long-distance relationship where we sent voice messages or even called each other. I preferred texting. But Adam took forever to type a message with his pinky finger and preferred to talk. So I'd gone along with it, and by now I knew how important it was to hear his voice.

"Is that good-looking physical therapist still there?"

Adam had told me about him in the first weeks at the hospital, and we'd speculated about how many young female patients tried to get his phone number.

Adam looked up. "Should I pass along a message?"

I pulled him in for a quick kiss and laughed at his smug expression. Then I slid my foot off Adam's footrest because the streetcar was screeching and ringing as it pulled in. We waited until some passengers had gotten off and those on our platform had boarded, then Adam carefully steered the wheelchair over the small gap between platform and train. The wheelchair rumbled over it and I gripped the handle of my suitcase tighter as Adam's body was jolted.

In the streetcar, Adam parked the wheelchair as far out of the way as possible and still blocked more than half the aisle. He seemed distracted; I suspected his mind was already at the hospital. I stood next to him, holding onto a pole with one hand, the suitcase between my legs, and had my other hand on his shoulder. No one who got on headed in our direction.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Adam asked in a low voice, just before we reached our destination.

I chuckled. "What kind of question is that? You're always hot," I grinned cheekily and he smirked, chuckling.

His smile vanished quickly. "Really, though," he murmured, and closed his eyes briefly.

I placed my hand on his cheek to check.

"A little?" I kept my voice light.

We barely spoke as we took the familiar path across the hospital courtyard. The sun was shining and there were many people out. Patients in wheelchairs and on crutches, visitors of all ages, including children. It took no words for me to accompany Adam up to the ward. I could feel how tired he suddenly was.

Nicole greeted us with an effusive grin. "There he is! Thanks for bringing him back, Rachel." She squeezed Adam's upper arm and winked at me.

Adam grunted something. While I helped him transfer back into bed, to relieve his back after the long time in the wheelchair, Ronald described, it seemed to me, every single play of yesterday's football game. I nodded whenever Adam replied and pretended I understood. Or cared.

"There's something else," Adam said once I had changed him into more comfortable clothes, his voice breathless again now that he was lying down. "The new job... You remember, as a counselor?"

"Hmm?" I nodded and sat down at the edge of his bed. Of course I remembered.

"I'd travel a lot. Especially in this area. But elsewhere too."

I leaned forward so we could speak in private. The other hospital beds were only half occupied; on Sundays many patients had visitors. Those present were watching TV, Ronald was currently distracted by something on his phone. "Okay? You like to travel, that's not a problem, is it?"

"Right. It would also mean I wouldn't need to stay at my old place anymore." His old place had been tied to his old job. To the company that had now let him go. "That's why I was thinking..." Adam looked at me, then continued hesitantly. "Are you by any chance also good at finding accessible rental apartments?"

Frowning, I sat up. "You mean..."

Adam grinned. "Alternatively, I'd also consider relocating my residence to the hospital. Might save me some traveling in the future. The hospital food isn't that bad either—ow!"

He looked at me with mock indignation. "That definitely hurt. I think."

Oops. I hadn't paid attention to how low I was aiming. I bit my lip.

The mattress shook as Adam laughed.

"So..." I started again. I placed my hand over his, stroking over his knuckles. "When do you need a new apartment? And are you thinking two rooms... three?"

"Depends..."

"On what?"

He grew serious again, his eyes firm on mine. "What we spoke about, just earlier. Maybe... Well, you said once you were considering moving out of your apartment...?"

It was true, my apartment was cold and I could hear my neighbor snore through the thin walls.

"Your city would be pretty much in between this clinic and my parents' home. It could make a good base."

I stared at him intently. He couldn't mean—

"That should be doable for you, shouldn't it?" Adam watched me while I almost crushed his hand. "Finding a place big enough? Accessibility in a city is probably eas—"

He couldn't continue talking because I'd thrown my arms around his neck. I heard the air escape from his chest, effectively muting him completely and I quickly loosened my grip, giving him a bit more freedom again. Literally, to breathe.

"Are you serious?" I asked with a barely suppressed jolt of happiness. Could it really be true? "Are you... are we going to..." Would we move in together?

I'd never thought of it. Certainly not in the last two months, and it hadn't come up before either. To be honest, by now I'd taken literally any arrangement, as long as I could still see Adam, once in a while. Hospital, rehab clinic, his place across the country, any random hotel room in between, accessible or with a tower of blankets rivaling the princess and the pea... I wasn't particular. But of course, I wanted nothing in the world more than our own, permanent place. I could barely wrap my head around it. Adam with me, every day, not just every other weekend. Minus the time he was traveling, of course. And yes, an assistant would be there too. But not always, we'd make sure of that.

Adam nodded. "Would that be something you'd consider?" he asked in a low voice, hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

"Are you for real?" I hissed, louder than intended. "I don't even know what to say... This is amazing!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely! But I need more details, to go on a proper apartment hunt!"

I bounced on the mattress, giddy with joy, and Adam's smile was as wide as I hadn't seen it in a long time.

"Ready for physical therapy, Adam?" Nicole had entered the room. She was holding a tray with several pill containers and placed one of them on Adam's table. "Tanya should be here any minute."

I was still staring at Adam, my heart pumping with joy, knowing the time for goodbye had come. With the prospect of a shared future in a shared apartment, it was both harder and easier for me. At least we had something to set our sights on. Whenever Adam would be discharged. I'd definitely noticed he'd dodged that question.

"Greetings to Tanya," I whispered as I assisted him with his medication.

Adam almost choked on the water. "Shut up," he mumbled and made a face. "It's going to hurt."

"I hope so," I joked, but squeezed his shoulder gently. "Have a good day, Adam."

"You too."

"See you in two weeks," I promised. "At the latest."

"Promise," Adam whispered. He looked so tired I wouldn't want to be in Tanya's shoes, trying to mobilize him or whatever her task was.

"Promise."

We kissed one last time, eyes closed. Then I placed Adam's limp hand on the sheets and left, pulling my suitcase behind me.

"Take his temperature too," I murmured to Nicole as I passed her on the way out.

I didn't leave the ward immediately but waited by the busy nurses' station until Nicole came out of Adam's room.

"And?"

"Fever," she said, took a notepad from the desk and wrote something down.

"Do you think it's an infection?"

"Probably." She passed the note to a colleague at one of the workstations. Then she came to me, standing frozen in the hallway, arms wrapped around myself.

"Hey..." She touched my arm. "It's not the end of the world. He'll get through this too."

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes that had started to well up at the news. "I know. Just..." I looked at Nicole and she looked back, smiling kindly, her mascara enviably flawless, her gaze alert. "Will he ever get out of here? Ever?" My mind was racing. Maybe that's why Adam had suggested moving in together. Maybe he knew he'd never leave the hospital again...

"Of course!" Nicole cried out. "We love him, but believe me, we're doing our best to get him out of here. And we're good at it." She winked at me. "Besides, most come back here anyway, eventually. We're that irresistible." She laughed, then became serious again. "But you know that, right?"

I sniffled and nodded. "I know," I murmured. I'd known for a long time. One way or another, Adam would always remain a patient of this hospital. Long-term patient, indeed.

"Wait a moment," she said and disappeared behind the desk, rummaging through a drawer at the knees of a nurse who winked at me. "I've been meaning to give you this for a while." Nicole pulled out a flyer. "Here."

I took the folded piece of paper from Nicole and read the title, frowning. Support group for family members of spinal cord injury patients. Something dropped in my stomach. "Oh. Thanks." I hesitated, but then I pocketed it anyway. I wasn't even sure I counted as a family member.

"That's also organized by our peer program. The wife of a patient runs the group. Maybe you'd like to get involved too."

"Yeah, maybe, thanks." I was too confused to try and fake more enthusiasm. Should I be happy Adam and I were making plans to move in together? Or worried because of the infection? Where would all this lead?

We said goodbye and I grabbed my suitcase and left the bustling hospital. As I walked across the sun-lit plaza between the huge planters, I felt the flyer in my pocket. I felt shaky. Did I need a support group? I knew Adam had one. And he'd probably run one, soon, as well. It couldn't hurt to say hello, I supposed. I could check if the next meeting happened to fall on one of the days I was visiting. After all, I'd soon be moving in with someone with a spinal cord injury. So I probably still had a lot to learn from people with much more experience in this than me.

While waiting for the streetcar, I leafed through the flyer. Reading the text, it struck me how different from mine people's experience in the support group must be. The flyer seemed to be geared mostly toward people who knew their partner, child or friend from before the event that brought them to the clinic. None of them had chosen life with someone with an SCI. It was different for me, wasn't it? I was choosing this. I knew, at least in parts, what was awaiting me. And yet I also knew that a lot would change in my life. Again. More than the last eight months could have prepared me for.

Was I ready for this? Could I handle living with Adam? I didn't know. I just knew that when we exchanged our first messages, me on the train home, Adam in this hospital, I hadn't expected this to lead where I was now. Yes, the last months had been frightening and exhausting. And I would lie if I said I hadn't seen the relationship crack from the strain. But today had been full of glimpses of a time I had almost forgotten. Happy times. It was like Adam had said. Someday it would be like this again.

On the train later I wrote a message to Adam. "Missing you already. Sleep well tonight, even if Ronald snores again. Next time I'll bring you a Nerf gun so you can fight back. Looking forward to it xxx"

He didn't answer immediately. Maybe he was still with the physical therapist. Or still waiting for her. Maybe he ate a late lunch. I kinda hoped so. Anyway, he'd answer me eventually, he always did. For the moment, no message meant he was doing well—and that was enough.

I leaned my head against the window and watched the foreign-yet-so-familiar landscape slide past. Nothing about the future with Adam felt simple or safe. Life with someone with his condition would never be predictable, never effortless, never controllable. I was aware of that. But as the train carried me back home, one thought settled in me with unexpected calm: with Adam, nothing was guaranteed—except that I wanted to try to stay. Long term.