Writing for Fun
November 2015
It Takes Two - Jan Osborne
Ian Craig propelled himself across the room with weary efficiency and expertly parked his wheelchair in front of his desk. Switching on the computer he glanced at his watch. It was only eight in the morning but time was already beginning to drag.
He nervously smoothed down the front of his pristine white tee shirt over his well muscled torso. Sweeping further down his hand brushed the knife edge creases of his khaki shorts and came, at last, to rest on the two stumps that protruded from the leg openings.
Immediately his mind was transported back to a time more than three years ago. It was the start of his third gruelling tour of duty in Afghanistan. His job that day, as Captain, was to lead a patrol along the dangerous border area between the Helmand Province and Kandahar.
The day was scorching hot and dry, the violent winds whipping up huge eddies of choking dust making visibility poor and the going hard when the unthinkable happened. He was in the Snatch Land Rover leading the convoy when it hit a Russian anti tank mine. They say you do not remember terrible trauma but his abiding nightmare of this life changing incident was of hearing a tremendous explosion. An explosion loud enough to shatter his eardrums, cutting off the sounds of his own screams as the crushing pressure forced him down a vortex of unendurable pain to eventual, blessed oblivion.
He found out much, much later that his gunner and best mate, Tom, had been flung clear and survived with scarcely a scratch. Ian was the only other survivor from a crew of six but fate had decided that the price of sparing his life would be the loss of both legs above the knee and for him to endure two years of torture whilst surgeons battled to piece together the rest of his broken body.
Jerking his mind back from the horror of those years he glanced at his watch. Dear Lord was it still only 08.20? Ian ran nervous fingers through his once immaculate but now tousled curly black hair and palmed his wheelchair, once again to the window. Gazing up and down the street outside there was still no sign of the NHS courier van to gladden his heart.
They had promised faithfully that they would deliver today – this morning in fact. A special piece of equipment he would need to be able to get through the ordeal he would face tomorrow at 14.00 hours precisely.
Sighing deeply he spun his chair round and checked for the umpteenth time. Yes there they were: one suitcase and one holdall by the front door. Back at his computer desk he idly flicked on the radio to try and make the time pass more quickly. Marvin Gaye singing the chorus 'It takes two, baby, it takes two, baby. Me and youooo,' from his hit of the same name filled the room. Instantly Ian's mood lifted and he began to sing along. Pictures of Emily's face flooded his brain and warm, sensual feelings stirred his body. Emily, dear Emily. She had been his redemption; a life line to sanity and eventual happiness. She had been there almost from the start. As his physiotherapist she had worked hard to restore his physical body but had ended up doing much more. Ian's once proud alpha male ego of a hard, healthy, good looking guy had been shattered by the accident. The river of testosterone flowing through his body had been diluted with pain, despair, and lack of self esteem until it was no more than a mere trickle. Emily's love and belief in him had literally turned the tide. His love for her was now so strong that he had to keep his appointment tomorrow and today's delivery was essential for it to happen. Only then would he be satisfied that he had done all in his power to make her proud of him.
The chime of the door bell broke his reverie. Powering his wheelchair to the entrance nearly left scorch marks in the carpet. He wrenched the door open and was confronted by the grinning, wrinkled face of Albert, the old hospital technician he knew so well. He handed Ian a long plastic wrapped parcel.
''ere we are mate. Just as promised. Knew you'd be fretting so I brought it myself. Sign here. Thanks. Oh, and best of luck tomorrow. Rather you than me.' He winked and gave a chuckle.
Ian thanked him profusely and watched him walk back down the path to the roadside and his van. Back pedalling he shut the door and let out a huge sigh of relief. With trembling fingers to tore open the package on his lap to reveal an artificial limb; a left leg; his left leg. Two days ago, whilst out shopping, the mechanical knee joint had given way. Taking it to the hospital prosthetics repairs department he had explained to old Albert his dilemma. He, in turn, had promised him faithfully that it would be mended and returned to him the day before D day!
Ian laughed out loud and spun the chair around and around in wild joy. It takes two legs to walk and now he had both artificial limbs in good working order he would make Emily proud.
Tomorrow at 14.00 hours he was to marry his beloved Emily. He would stand before the altar to make his vows and later he would walk out of the church with his bride on his arm.