Icarus

FOURTEEN

"All right, I want you to say when it hurts."

"When."

Jack could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead. Little beads popping up and starting to stream down toward his eyes.

"When."

Now the back of his neck was damp. And he could feel his shoulders tense up and his lower back start to ache. No, more than ache. A stabbing jolt…

"When, goddamnit!"

"I haven't done anything yet, Mr. Keller. We haven't started."

It was the day after Kid had first shown up at the apartment with Dom. Following his proclamation that he was there to heal Jack, the three of them sat down and talked for two hours. It was a strangely nonpersonal conversation. Jack and Dom kept pressing but Kid shied away from any details about his life that didn't have to do with the specific reason he was there.

"I dropped out of St. John's after my junior year," he explained. "I know you know that; I remember the conversation."

"Yes, I remember it, too," Jack said. "I remember the conversation and I remember that you disappeared."

"First of all, I didn't disappear. I disappeared from here. That's two different things. And I don't want to go into that right now. It's gonna be hard enough trying to convince you to let me do what I want to do. So let's come back to that."

"To the past?"

"Yeah. Let's come back to the past some other time."

"He's right, Jackie. Let him explain what he wants."

Jack nodded and Kid continued.

"I traveled around for a while. About a year, just trying different things. And then I got a job in a gym. You know I've always been into that."

"You're in good shape, I'll give you that."

"Uh-uh. I'm in great shape. I'm a jock, I've always stayed in shape. Always been kind of obsessed with it. But when I started at this gym it became even more of an obsession. And then it turned into something else. I became just as obsessed with getting other people in shape."

"You're a personal trainer?"

"I was. In a way, I still am, but that was just the first stage. I realized I could do more than just get people in shape. I could… make them better."

"Better, how?"

"I had the knack; I don't know how else to put it. If they came to me with a bad back, I could fix it. If somebody had an operation on their arm and couldn't bend it, they could after working with me for a while. It was exciting to me, it really was. People would come to me sort of… incomplete… and they'd leave whole. After a while, that's all I liked doing. I mean, I'd get started with someone, someone who needed my help, and work with him for hours. I could work all day; it was like I couldn't stop until the people I was working with reached their limits. And what happened is I started getting bored working with yuppies who wanted washboard abs and lawyers who wanted to get in shape so they could find someone to cheat on their wives with. So I went back to school."

"To do what?"

"To become a physical therapist. I got my B.A. first. Had to. Then I got my master's in PT It was a two-year program and, oh, man, you guys won't believe the shit I had to take. A year of physics, a year of chem, two years of biology. It was brutal."

"You took physics?" Dom said in an incredulous growl.

"Yeah."

"So say something in physics."

"Dom, I don't think I can."

"Come on. Make an old guy happy."

Kid looked at Jack and good-naturedly rolled his eyes. Then he turned back to Dom and said, "How about if I explain what an energy level is?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay. An energy level is one of a quantized series of states in which matter may exist, each having constant energy and separated from others in the series by finite quantities of energy. How's that?"

"Holy shit," Dom said.

"Where was all this?" Jack asked. "I mean, where you got your master's and learned about energy levels and discovered you had the knack?"

Kid ignored the barbed tone lurking at the back of Jack's question. "Maryland. That's where I was so that's just where I stayed. Maryland State. Finished my B.A. there."

"How'd you pay for it?" Jack asked quietly.

Kid didn't back down from the hurt underneath these words. "I worked. As a trainer. And I got a partial wrestling scholarship that turned into a full."

"Since when are you a wrestler?" Dom demanded.

"Thought I'd try my hand at it and I liked it. Fast and strong, why not? We even had one nationally televised match on ESPN… well, okay, the Deuce, against N.C. State. I always thought maybe you guys were watching, saw me."

"How'd ya do?" Dom wanted to know.

"I didn't disgrace you, don't worry. Pinned a guy who was nationally ranked." Kid turned to Jack now. He hesitated, as if afraid of the answer he was going to get. Then he plunged ahead, the cockiness back. "So? Now you got my story. You gonna let me help you?"

"You think you can heal me?" Jack asked.

"I know I can." When Jack didn't respond, when he glanced dubiously at Dom, Kid's voice got louder. He was ready to bounce off of the sofa. "It's what I do."

"I'm kind of an extreme case," Jack said slowly. "I don't just have a bad back or a hurt arm."

"Oh, come on, I've worked with people a lot worse off than you. Mangled arms, guys who've had their legs crushed in a car accident…"

"I appreciate it, Kid. But I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I just don't think so."

"What are you afraid of?"

Jack recoiled, bit off the angry words that were about to flow. "I'm afraid of a lot of things right now. And if I were you, I wouldn't take that tone with me."

"You're not just afraid, you're feelin' sorry for yourself. That's a bad combination."

"That's enough, Kid," Dom said. "That's more than enough."

"Hey, I've done this a lot. You get a feel for people, see who has it in 'em to fight back. Look at you," Kid said, staring at Jack. "Still in that wheelchair. You should've gotten rid of that thing already! Months ago!"

"I don't use it all the time."

"You shouldn't use it at all!"

"You don't know the kind of pain I've gone through. I'm going through."

"Yeah, I do know." Kid's voice was loud. It resonated through the apartment. "It's what I'm trying to tell you – I can get rid of it."

"I don't think so."

"Because you don't want to get rid of it!"

"Kid!" This was from Dom. He was angry now, and standing. "I said that's enough. You said enough, so don't say no more."

Kid's face was flushed. He was angry and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "All right. I'm sorry I got excited," he said, quieter now. Then he turned to Jack. "But I don't take back what I said. I can make you better. Only you have to want to get better. And I don't think you do. I think your pain is all you've got right now and you're afraid of what'll happen next after it's gone."

There was a long silence. Kid finally grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, stood, and headed to the front door. Jack let him get halfway to the elevator before he spoke, evenly and softly.

"That may be the worst thing anyone's ever said to me." He looked down at the wheelchair, and when he lifted his head, Kid had stepped back into the room. Their eyes locked. "But it's also true. I'm terrified of what's going to happen next."

"Then let me help you," Kid said. "Please. You saved my life, both of you guys, after my dad died. I've fucked up big-time, I know that. I've been wanting to call you ever since I heard what happened and I didn't because… well… just for this reason: I didn't think you'd want me anymore. There are things you don't understand about why I left, things you'll never understand, and I don't blame you for not trusting me, but I can do something. I can do for you what you did for me. I can give you your life back."

When Jack said nothing, Kid shook his head sadly. The look on his face showed that he knew he'd failed.

"He believes you, Kid," Dom said. "You don't have to look like that. Right now it ain't personal. He's just tryin' to figure out if he wants his life back."

Jack looked up sharply. His eyes met Dom's. The old man said nothing more, but he didn't have to. He was challenging Jack to disagree with him. And even at age seventy-five, even with one arm, Dom was a tough guy to challenge. Jack turned away from the grizzled old face and now stared at Kid's young one.

"You'd better know what the hell you're doing," Jack said.

– "-"-"KID DID KNOW what he was doing. And twenty-four hours later, he had Jack lying on his back on the floor of Jack's living room.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to start working you out yet, you're at least a couple of weeks from that. We're gonna start with ultrasound and ultrastim. I've already ordered the machine; it'll be delivered tomorrow."

"I'm paying for this, I assume."

"You can afford it, stop whining. My goal is to eventually set you up with the ultimate home gym. You're gonna want to work out, you're gonna want to put yourself through the agony."

"This does not sound likely to me."

"I know you. I know what'll happen when you start to see what you're capable of doing."

Jack grunted noncommittally. "What the hell's ultrastim?"

Kid's face lit up. He was the teacher now, explaining a life-changing insight to a disbelieving student. "I got you an ultrasound-slash-ultrastim machine. It's an electrical charge that goes into your muscles. It stimulates the hard-to-get interior muscles."

"It works?"

"It works. In school, we had to do this experiment. You cut a frog's leg off, put it on a hook to elongate it, shock it with current – and that causes contractions."

"Sounds like a fun experiment."

"It's an important one. It proves that an electrical charge predetermines muscular contractions. And that's what we've got to do with you 'cause my guess is there's been so much atrophy."

"So in this particular experiment, I'm the frog."

"Oh, yeah," Kid said. "You are definitely the frog." He grinned. "Now all I'm gonna do right now is stretch you out. Nothing hard, you don't have to do anything except let me do a little pushing and pulling. I want to determine your level of flexibility." Jack nodded his okay. Kid stretched Jack's right leg flat on the ground, putting his hand on Jack's thigh to keep the leg pinned down. "Straighten the left leg and extend it straight out toward me," he said, and when Jack did that, Kid took hold of it from the arch of Jack's foot and lifted it about six inches off the ground. "All right, I want you to say when it hurts."

"When."

Kid flexed Jack's foot so it was pointing upward. Sweat began pouring down Jack's face as he lay sprawled on the mat on his living room floor.

"When…"

Kid pressed down more firmly on Jack's right thigh, rendering it immobile.

"When, goddamnit!"

"I haven't done anything yet. You might want to hold off complaining until we start."

The sweat had soaked through Jack's clothes. The fear had taken hold. The expectation of pain. Kid began inching Jack's left leg up, slowly and carefully, an inch or two at a time.

"You know, Kid…" Jack's breathing was getting heavier "… you're still on thin ice. I'd try to hide your…" his breathing grew even more labored "… naturally… snotty… personality… Oh, shit… if I were you. At least for a little while longer… that's far enough!"

Kid ignored him. Slowly, he kept raising Jack's leg.

"Kid… stop."

"Just a little bit more. You can do it."

"I can't! Stop!"

Kid raised the leg another inch. It was maybe three feet off the ground, extended straight out.

Jack's voice got louder, more urgent. "Don't go any further…"

"One more inch."

"Let it go! Put it back down!"

Kid moved it just a fraction of an inch this time and Jack screamed. Kid stopped the movement, but he made no motion to release the leg. He held it in place as Jack turned red in the face and swore.

"Put it down!… Fuck you!… Fuck you!" The sweat was pouring off his face. His shirt was sopping wet now and his arms, which were by his sides, were shaking.

"Keep breathing, Jack. Deep breath."

"Put it down!… Goddamn it! Let go!"

Kid nodded, as if seeing what he wanted to see, and slowly eased the leg back down. When it touched the floor, he released it. Jack's entire body sagged. He used the cuff of his shirt to wipe his forehead and his breathing was so labored he couldn't speak. Kid looked down at him, spoke slowly.

"You gotta go ten seconds past the scream, Jack. That's the program. It won't always hurt like that, but it'll always hurt. That's how you're gonna get better."

Jack's breathing was under control. It took him another moment before he spoke. "I've missed you," he said weakly. "You son of a bitch."