Gnarly Page 8

  Feigning ignorance, he asked, “Are we here?”

  “Yes,” Iker said. “Should I leave the car or drive it to the rental agency?”

  “I’ll take care of it in the morning,” Ed replied. After a jaw-cracking yawn, he opened the car door.

  Iker looked expectant, but Ed only shook his outstretched hand. “Thanks for playing tour guide today.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Iker said, stepping back in disappointment. “I’ll see you on the beach tomorrow?”

  “Most likely,” Ed said. “Have a good evening.”

  Chapter 10

  JAVI WAS a man on a mission when he arrived at the clinic for his scheduled appointment. He’d already made the decision to get the best prosthesis, regardless of the cost. There were a few credit cards he hadn’t tapped before, and now that he was back to work, he’d be able to pay them off without going into hock. Screw the interest. He had his priorities, and becoming mobile was at the top of the list.

  Patxi had accompanied him, clutching the old prosthesis in a box and handing it over to the physical therapist when he ushered Javi into a cubicle. The crutches were put aside, and Javi accepted the helping hands as he was maneuvered onto the examining table. In a sleeveless T-shirt, shorts, and one flip-flop, Javi looked more like his old self than he had in a while. The hours spent at the beach yesterday had produced a pinkish glow, changing his overall appearance in a positive way.

  “You’re doing a good job keeping this clean and moisturized,” the therapist said after he’d examined Javi’s stump.

  “I know how to follow instructions.”

  “There are no signs of wear and tear, though, which suggests you’re not using your prosthesis,” the therapist continued. “Am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Javi said. “The one you gave me is as stiff as a cadaver and feels unnatural. I need something with better range of motion.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ve seen other amputees with running blades, so I know there are options. Why wasn’t I given more choices?”

  “At the time of your injury, we were told to give you the most basic prosthesis. You weren’t receptive to any of our suggestions and asked us repeatedly to leave you alone. What’s changed?”

  Javi lowered his head and picked at a hangnail nervously.

  “Mr. Elizalde?” the therapist prompted.

  Javi lifted his chin and focused on the question. “My attitude has improved. I’m tired of hobbling around on crutches, and if you can offer a better alternative, some device that will get me back in the water, then I’m willing to give it a try. Does such a thing even exist? Am I asking for the impossible?”

  The physical therapist smiled and pulled a catalog from the rack attached to the wall. “Let me show you something,” he said, thumbing through the pages. “The Össur company makes some of the finest prostheses money can buy. Here’s one that would be perfect for you.”

  Javi stared down at the full-page color photo of a mountain climber with a kid riding on his shoulders and a mechanical foot attached to one leg.

  “It looks like this guy is managing fine on that device. Can you tell me about it?” Javi asked, getting excited. “He’s even got a trendier shoe. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the black boot you’ve got on mine. It’s for old people without a life.”

  “It’s functional and that’s what you requested at the time,” the therapist reminded him. “The Re-Flex Shock foot offers the best vertical shock absorption for all sorts of activities and high-impact sports. It even has one design with a split toe for more maneuverability. And you can put a flip-flop on it when you go to the beach.”

  Javi crowed, “That’s amazing! How soon can I have one?”

  “We’ll have to take your measurements and put in the order. It’ll take about ten business days, and payment is expected in full before they’ll even look at the paperwork.”

  “How much?” Javi asked fearfully.

  The therapist went to get the price list, and when he returned with a figure that wouldn’t necessitate a kidney donation or carrying a hefty balance for the rest of his life, Javi gladly handed over his credit card and signed on the dotted line. The next hour was spent going over the different features—active tibial progression, carbon active heel, full-length toe lever, proportional response, split toe, vertical shock pylon—and how they would impact Javi’s ability to resume his sport if he chose to go that route.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to competing,” Javi said honestly, “but I miss swimming and surfing for fun. Plus, I’ll be able to do other things like walk and dance. It’ll be nice to feel normal again.”

  “Jogging on the promenade will be another option,” the therapist said.

  “That’s fucking fantastic,” Javi exclaimed. “Why did I wait so long to look into this?”

  “Depression is common among amputees. Sometimes it takes a while to come to terms with your loss and move on. Attitude has a lot to do with the learning curve. I’m certain you’ll do a great job now that you’re making this conscious choice.”

  “How long before I’m good to go?”

  “With your enthusiasm and athletic background, it shouldn’t take very long.”

  “Can I get a sportier shoe?”

  “You can have anything you want, but they’d have to be special ordered, so I suggest we try and do it all at once.”

  Once more, they pored over the catalog, and Javi added pairs of athletic shoes, dress shoes, and flip-flops to his order.

  “Remind me again why I can’t just walk into a shoe store and buy something?” Javi asked after they recalculated his bill. “It would probably cost a lot less.”

  “Heel heights have to be an exact match. One millimeter plus or minus will affect your gait, which will mess up your balance, injure your knee, and could ruin the entire experience before it even begins. You’ve already invested in the foot. Why not get the whole package and do it right?”

  “Fine,” Javi conceded.

  THAT EVENING, when Javi sat on the barstool tending to his customers, his new optimism showed. Smiling constantly, he told numerous jokes, poured drinks with a liberal hand, and set the tone for the evening. Patxi kept glancing his way and bobbing his head in approval. Javi knew his father was overjoyed and probably gave Ed all the credit for his new outlook on life. Javi reluctantly admitted he might be right, but apologizing wasn’t his style, and he’d be damned if he gave Ed the satisfaction. The bastard would probably gloat.

  Around eleven, Ed showed up and Javi scowled. Patxi greeted him warmly, offering him a choice spot someone had recently vacated at the bar. After he was seated, Javi wheeled over.

  Woodenly, he asked, “What’ll you have?”

  “Surprise me.”

  Javi’s attitude changed from hostile to curious. “That bad?”

  Ed shrugged.

  Javi wheeled away and made Ed a mojito. A stiff drink would put the stuck-up bastard in a better mood, and then maybe Ed would tell him what had crawled up his ass. Javi might even bring himself to confess he’d taken the first steps in getting his prosthesis. That should put a smile on the good doctor’s face. He might even go a step further and apologize if it would help them move beyond the anger and resentment that had been weighing them down.

  He pulled a highball glass from the shelf above his head and started assembling the cocktail. When he was done, he garnished it with a few mint leaves, stuck in a straw, and wheeled himself back to Ed.

  “Here you go,” he said jovially. “This should cure whatever ails you.”

  Ed’s smile was lukewarm, and Javi watched his former lover put away the drink in four giant gulps.

  “Hey, slow down. At this rate, you’ll be wasted in no time.”

  “Can I have another one, please?”

  “Are you sure?” Javi asked skeptically.

  “It’s about the only thing I’m sure of right now.”

  “Okay….”

  Five minutes later, Jav
i set the second drink in front of Ed and watched him repeat the gulp and swallow moves.

  “Whoa, Edu,” Javi said, pulling the almost-empty glass away. “What’s going on?”

  Ed looked at him, blinking owlishly several times. “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not here.”

  “Let’s go back to my place,” Javi suggested. “I’ll get someone to cover the bar.”

  “To see your etchings?” Ed asked, a sloppy grin on his face. The rum had obviously gone straight to his head.

  “I’ll get my father to help us.”

  “We don’t need him,” Ed said. “I can carry you.”

  “You don’t need to carry me, pendejo. I can walk. You’re the one who’s going to be zigzagging across the sidewalk.”

  “I’ll have you know that I have the liver of an eighteen-year-old.”

  “Exactly! That’s why you’re already shit-faced.”

  “Phfft. I’m not drunk. Let’s get out of here.” He stood and wobbled for a second before straightening up like a soldier. “Ready?”

  Javi signaled Patxi to take over, grabbed his crutches, and followed Ed out of the bar. Predictably, Ed wandered erratically, veering off the sidewalk time and again but always coming back and sidling up to Javi. At this time of the night, there were hardly any vehicles, but Javi worried one of them would fall and break a bone.

  Ed grabbed his arm and leaned on him, throwing Javi off-balance, and then Ed clutched at him desperately so they wouldn’t topple over.

  “You okay?” Ed mock whispered.

  A blast of rum-infused breath warmed Javi’s face, and he chuckled despite his irritation. “Yes, I’m fine. Keep moving before you fall asleep on a bench.”

  “They’re not comfortable,” Ed murmured. “I’m sure your bed is way better. Let’s have a sleepover?”

  “Joder,” Javi muttered.

  When they got to his apartment building, Javi had to wrestle with the locks while balancing on one foot. His crutches had fallen by the side, and Ed was leaning against the wall, dozing.

  “As soon as I get my new prosthesis, I’m gonna kick your ass, Edu.”

  His growly voice jolted Ed out of his trance, and he looked at Javi with the sweetest expression on his face. “I like it when you call me Edu.”

  “Cállate,” Javi ordered. He wasn’t going to give in to temptation and forget thirty long years of misery. It would be the easiest thing in the world to drag Ed to bed and make him pay for his long absence. Fuck him into the mattress until he remembered how much he enjoyed it. Ed was practically screaming to get laid, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not until he was sober and explained why he’d stayed away, and more importantly, why he was back. He could have gone anywhere on his vacation, and yet he’d chosen San Sebastián, which wasn’t exactly a straight shot from Chicago. He’d had to jump through hoops to get to this part of Spain, and Javi wasn’t going to rest until he got some answers.

  He helped Ed into his bed and decided he’d take his sectional in the living room. It was the smarter thing to do. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands—and other body parts—to himself with that man so close.

  For years he’d tried to figure out their attraction and came up blank. They had very little in common, but his mother and father kept telling Javi that love couldn’t be explained. It just was. Javi had insisted their old-fashioned ideas didn’t apply to gay men, but they only looked and sounded more sympathetic. They had hoped Ed would come back someday.

  It was too bad his mother wasn’t around to scold Ed and ask him why he’d stayed away all these years. She would have enjoyed seeing him squirm. With Ed back in his bed, albeit unconscious, Javi couldn’t help reminiscing.

  He’d also been tipsy the night Inga had asked him to join in the three-way. Females had never done it for him and he almost refused, but he took one look at the lanky blond American and changed his mind. Ed had been sweetly innocent but he caught on fast, and their chemistry had been amazing from the start. It didn’t matter that one of them was a privileged college boy and the other a compulsive wave chaser. Ed’s willingness to overlook their differences and join their small band of surfers was reason enough to continue the affair long after Inga took off. By the end of their six weeks, Javi had been in love for the first time in his life.

  He moved closer to the bed and brushed Ed’s hair away from his face. The guy hadn’t changed much, which made it worse. It would have been better if he were fat, bald, and missing a few teeth. Then Javi’s gut would stop churning whenever Ed was around. How was he going to say goodbye again if this turned into… something?

  Chapter 11

  SOMETIME BEFORE dawn, Ed awoke with a start, the marching band in his head a painful reminder of last night’s debacle. He remembered everything that had transpired before he walked into Elizalde Bar: the drive to Markina, jai alai, Iker’s probing questions, and their uncomfortable parting back in San Sebastián. He’d wound up on his sofa, browsing the internet and trying to get more information on bisexuals. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much, and what he could find was unreliable.

  As a physician, used to having most answers at his fingertips, the lack of information on his sexual orientation was frustrating. How could he figure out why he was suddenly being pulled in a direction that would upend his life? If Carol hadn’t died, there was every chance he would have gone to his grave thinking he was one hundred percent heterosexual. He found an article in Out magazine written by someone who thought he might be bisexual, but again, this was not a scientific journal or substantiated. The guy had played musical beds with men and women for a long time before finally seeking professional counsel. Ed could relate to some of the confusion, but not to his methods; Ed’s foray into man-on-man sex had begun and ended with one person.

  His youthful experiment—six weeks spent in Javi’s bed—had been fueled by a sense of adventure, lust, booze, and a group of tolerant surfers who’d swung both ways and never questioned their decisions. There were no memories of chest-thumping angst and regret. Men and women alike had embraced their sexuality in whichever form it presented. In retrospect, Ed could see that he’d fallen in with a rare bunch. The total lack of judgment had made it possible to forget he was doing something completely out of his norm. Without the accompanying guilt, he’d been able to resume his old life, diving headfirst into the hellish business of becoming a physician. Eight backbreaking, sleep-deprived, stressful years left him with no time to dwell on his summer fling.

  Now he had to wonder if his psyche had been biding its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to go back to the starting point and open up the box he’d kept under lock and key. If that were the case, then why in hell didn’t he just trust his feelings and tell his need-to-know conscience to leave him the fuck alone?

  Noises coming from outside the bedroom—plus the need to get rid of a few pints of rum—spurred him into action. He sat up and looked around, realizing with alarm that he was in Javi’s apartment. A miserable groan escaped his throat as he held his throbbing head for a few seconds before struggling out of bed. He was fully clothed, and the smell seeping out of his pores was another unpleasant reminder of his overindulgence. The fact that he wasn’t naked and wearing a garland of dried-up cum was reassuring. At least he hadn’t given in to his baser instincts before passing out.

  When he opened the bedroom door, the noise grew louder, and it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Shoeless, Ed padded down the hallway in that direction. Javi was leaning against the stove, wrestling with a moka pot, the stovetop coffeepot found in most Spanish homes. He seemed to be having trouble screwing the top half to the base.

  “Need help?” Ed asked quietly.

  Javi started and turned in his direction. “¡Coño! I didn’t realize you were awake.”

  “And here I thought you were being gracious and making me coffee,” Ed said.

  “You’re welcome to share this if I
can get the damn thing to work.”

  “Move over,” Ed said.

  Javi hopped back and grabbed the closest chair. He was only wearing pajama bottoms. His shoulders had a pink tinge but the rest of his slim torso was the color of old ivory. Dark hair dusted his upper chest, trailing down his abs and disappearing underneath the elastic waistband. Ed felt a jolt of pure lust when his gaze rested on the distinct bulge Javi was doing his best to hide with his hand. It was gratifying to know he wasn’t the only one feeling this.

  “Why don’t you sit down while I mess with this thing,” Ed said, trying to get past the unguarded moment. There was no point in noting the obvious if they weren’t willing to follow through.

  “Do you even know how to work it?” Javi asked. “You’re probably more used to the fancy electrical machines.”

  “I remember how it’s done,” Ed said. “All I have to do is screw the top into the bottom. You’ve already filled it with grounds, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ed fiddled with the pot for a few seconds and got the pieces to sync without any more problems. He lit the burner and left the pot to boil. Turning toward Javi, he remarked, “Looks like you got too much sun.”

  Javi nodded. “It’s okay. I was awfully pale.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t peel,” Ed remarked. “How’d you manage on crutches?”

  As soon as the words were out and Ed saw the look of anger and hurt on Javi’s face, he wanted to kick himself. He stepped forward and reached for Javi’s arm. “I didn’t mean that to sound so shitty. I was just wondering how you were able to navigate the sand without your crutches sinking in.”

  Ed was steeling himself for an angry rebuttal, and he was shocked when Javi gave a self-deprecating laugh instead. “I’m not stupid, Edu. I sat on the concrete barrier for a few hours.”

  “You’ve got a healthy glow,” Ed said. “Keep this up and you’ll be pulling hot lifeguards without a problem.”