“That’s a terrific idea. Thanks. Want to turn that to something that’s not news?” I poked the tip of the remote up over the top of our blanket so he could steal it from me.
We had a comedy on in seconds, one that had released while he stomped around on Mars. Minutes later, we were both laughing like idiots at the movie, and I watched the news at my desk in my classroom the next morning, over coffee. Two nights later, he watched it with me, offered insights, and life marched on.
* * *
Thursday of the first week showed up on my doorstep without warning. Time may march on, but sometimes, it does sovery sneakily.Jackson spent his days on base, processing through the mission debriefings, the medical exams, and though he never mentioned it, the counseling that comes mandatory with all deployments off-planet.
I had my own medical exams to deal with. I see my doctor every few months to renew my prescription for the pills I use in case of extreme breakthrough pain. Not my favorite option. But some nights, especially in a cold and wet winter, the option is a pain pill, or a night laying in bed, teeth clenched as I try to find a position that doesn’t hurt.
“You need physical therapy. It will minimize the number of those episodes you have and might even help you regain some of your mobility,” said Doctor Campbell. Again.
“I know,” I replied. Again. “Physical therapy is too expensive right now. The military has lured in most of the therapists to rehabilitate soldiers. PT places that are taking civilian clients right now are still charging out the ear. I should have military health insurance in the next few months, though. I’m doing all my exercises in the meantime.”
We’d had this discussion every visit since my injury. The next line of the script was him saying, “You’re a vet. How can they not let you have care?”
And my next line was, “It’s complicated. Most of the resources have to go to the active-duty soldiers at this point, anyway. Physical therapists have only so many hours in the day.”
He picked up right on cue. “I know. It’s hard right now. I have to say it, though. Let me know if you need a referral.”
“I will,” I said, and then we’d reached the end of that particular call-and-response exchange.
He checked my vitals, my mobility, palpated my wounds and tutted over the scar tissue. He made vague noises about further surgeries and hoping there would be medical advances made available to the private sector that might do me good, and then, I had my scrip. As ever, it was easier to get pills than it was to afford what I needed to actually fix the problem.
Jackson had the grill hot and loaded with totally un-symbolic bratwurst when I got home after my last class of the day. “Hey, babe,” he said, and grinned at me.
I stepped over for a smoky, lingering kiss. “Hey there yourself. How was your day?”
“Not bad. Got my final clearance on pulmonary health. Turns out breathing canned air for months can fuck up your lungs if you don’t watch it.” He snorted. Just another thing on Mars that could kill you. “How about yours? Did I see you had a doctor’s appointment today?”
I’d set us up an online calendar to share, so we’d stay updated with each other’s plans. “You did. Went in, participated in the usual ritual discussion about needing physical therapy, got my prescription for my pain pills, and went back to school. I had to substitute for a science class today, so I missed lunch and I’m starving.”
“Whoa, back that up.” He turned over a bratwurst. “Ritual discussion about needing physical therapy? Why aren’t you getting it?”
“Because the private sector’s understaffed and overpriced.” I spread my hands. “I can’t afford it. They want one-hundred-fifty dollars a session, and they’d love it if I came in twice a week. Once a week at the minimum for a while.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s what I’ve got. When we’ve been married for six months, I can hop on your military insurance. That might expand my options.”
His lips flattened. “And you’re in pain in the meantime.”
“Usually it’s not too bad. It’s worst when it’s cold and wet, or my muscles get too tight. I know a bunch of the exercises I need to do, so I do them on my own.” I set my hand on his arm. “I know. It blows. I promise, I do everything I can to take care of myself.”
“I know you do.” He leaned over for another kiss, tender and soft this time. “I just wish other people took as good care of you as I want them to. I’ll just have to pick up the slack.”
“No complaints there. By the way, I got all the papers signed to change my marital status and next of kin. I’m going to go ahead and do the name change. The school year will end soon, and this way, next year’s students call me Mister Sadler right from the start.”
That I would change my name had never been in question. I’d done it once already. Taking Jackson’s name would allow me an even cleaner break from my past.Hendrickwould disappear, and with it, the last tie to my shitty family. Only Sebastian would remain. Sebastian Sadler. I liked how it sounded. It would mean another outward sign of my commitment to Jackson, too, as well as an honor to his family. Wins all around.
My husband started moving the bratwurst to the plate. “I got the paperwork to do the marital status and next of kin, too. I just haven’t signed it yet. Right now, my parents have my power of attorney. You know I trust you, but-”
“But you don’t trust me with that, yet,” I said gently. “It’s all right. We just met a week ago. You don’t know my stance on medical emergencies, I don’t know your advance directives, and that takes time. Seriously. Do it when you’re ready. I don’t mind.”
I did mind, a little. Not much. Enough for it to sting, but far greater was the sense that I trulydidwant him to be comfortable with me making emergency decisions for him. We had met one week ago tonight. He’d been burned before. If his lizard brain needed more time to warm up to the idea, I was okay with that. We hadn’t had the difficult talks yet, and I wouldn’t ask him to sign that kind of power over to someone who didn’t understand his wishes if the worst happened.
“There’s stuff I need to go over with you,” he continued, voice a plea for understanding. “My whole family’s military. They know a lot of it already, because my dad served, and most of my siblings serve, and my mom worked in defense contracting. There’s calls you’d make for a loved one on Earth that you can’t for someone on Mars, and we soldiers have our own opinions on what we want to happen to us based on what we’ve seen.”
“Jackson.” I took the barbecue tongs away from him so I could take his hand. “I understand. Yes. A piece of me wants to be your trusted, beloved husbandright now this very moment, but that isn’t logical. It’s emotional. There’s logistics. I would be offended if you threw your trust at me then felt nervous about it afterwards. I’m not offended if you want to wait. Put in the marital status paperwork. Wait on the power of attorney for the medical decisions and legal stuff. I’m patient.”