Rescue Me (Jimmy/Jacoby)

While I have First Tour going on, I thought I'd get started on a Jimmy/Jacoby (P. Roach) slash that has gotten good responses on Mibba and Live Journal. If you are uncomfortable with slash, that's cool =), but for those that like it, here you go!

(I'm going through an re-numbering chapters, because they're off count from the document files and it's driving me bonkers!)
***

Opening

“Hey Coby, isn’t your turn to clean out the rig?” Hollister, a tall, pale, brown haired woman called.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I grumbled, trudging my way over to the rig. The ambulance garage was cold today, given that the outside temperature was something around 10 with a wind chill that put it at -10. Iowa winters could be hell at times, I’ve found. “At least I don’t have to clean out rig 44.”

“What’s wrong with rig 44?” a soft, lisping voice asked, as he walked through the garage.

“Bad accident, patient bled all over the fucking place,” I explained, going to my husband and embracing him. “When are you off tonight?”

“Supposed to be 10, but we’ll see. There’s a big storm coming tonight, so people are trying to get home. The roads are shit, so I might have to fly late,” he said, kissing my cheek. “But I’ll be home sometime before sunrise, I promise you that.”

“Well, fly safe tonight, okay?” I said, as he parted from me.

“I will. You drive safely.”

With that, he walked off, ducking his 6’4” frame through the doors of the ER. I sighed, then grabbed what I needed to clean the rig and got started. Being an EMT was fun, but there were downsides. I hated cleaning the rig, but always ended up having to take my turn anyway. I’d rather be outside, tending to victims, saving lives, and then hearing how well the person recovered. I’m not selfish by any means and I don’t mean to sound stuck up, but there is nothing more rewarding than hearing that someone lived because of something I did.

“Big plans for the weekend?” Hollister asked, starting inventory. We’d just gotten back from a run, so we needed to restock before the next one.

“Yeah, actually. It’s our anniversary tomorrow. 10 years of wedded bliss,” I said, causing Hollister to laugh. She’d been my partner for 12 years and she knew about my marriage. “So we’re going to eat out, go to a show, and then go home and consummate the marriage all over again.”

“TMI,” she said, marking down how many IV needles we had left. “I can’t believe you’ve made it to 10 years. I thought you’d have divorced or killed him by now.”

“Well, it takes patience and work,” I said, thinking about how hard these last 10 years have been. “Once he got clean, it all kind of came together. He found a job he loves and is determined to stay sober for it.”

“How long as he been clean and sober?”

“5 years as of tomorrow. I think the flight crew is throwing him a party on Friday,” I said, wiping down all of the surfaces in the back of the ambulance. “It’s been a better last five years than the first five were.”

“That’s how you met, right?” she asked, bent down to inventory one of the many cabinets on the rig.

“Yeah. I was in training the night he OD’d on cocaine and heroin. My rig got called out and we found him half dead in an alley beside one of the seedier bars in Council Bluffs. We got Narcan going, got him to Creighton in Omaha and somehow, the man lived.”

“He’s got no family, right?”

“He does now, actually. We found his parents shortly after we found him. When we found him that night, he had nobody. We found his ID, we had HR do background checks for family, but there was nothing. So, me and my trainer, a guy named Mika, stepped in as his family. I grew close to him over the weeks he was in the coma and when he woke up, I said he was coming to live with me,” I said, thinking back. “I told him he was going to rehab, no questions asked, and he did. Sometime after he got clean and got back on his feet, we started dating. We dated for one year before I proposed to him.”

“You, Mr. Shaddix, are a strong man. How many times did he relapse?”

“Four. But after the fourth one, he was given an ultimatum: get clean, stay clean, or lose me. He didn’t want to lose me, so he got clean and went back for his GED. Once he had that, he applied for EMT training and he’s been clean ever since.”

“How in the world did he make flight crew?” Hollister asked, pausing to glance at me. Her green-grey eyes reflected her curiosity.

“He was doing his internship, and he got to go along in the helicopter one day. That must have sparked something in him, because as soon as he got back, he said he wasn’t going to be an ambulance EMT, he was going to the flight crew.”

“He must’ve been good; I’ve known EMTs that have been trying for flight crew for years and never made it. Jimmy must’ve had talent.”

“He does. He knows how to fly that chopper in all weather, and once he’s on the ground, he’s ready to lift off at a moment’s notice. When he’s on as a paramedic or flight nurse, he knows his stuff solid. He’s taught the veterans a thing or two out in the field. That’s how he made flight crew so fast.”

We were quiet after that, as we finished cleaning the rig. I had something planned, since it was our anniversary, and I hoped it would go over well. Jimmy thought we were doing dinner and a show, then heading back to our retired farm in Mondamin. After all, that’s where we’ve lived the last 10 years. It was an old, falling down farmhouse, but we invested in it and fixed it up. Now, it’s valued at three times what I bought it for, but we’re not selling. We don’t farm in the traditional sense, but you should see our gardens in the summer.

My plan was, if the weather holds, to take us around Omaha before we head home. We’ll go to all the places that mean the most to us, which are special to us. The place we met will always be a place we go; Jimmy was half-dead outside a bar in Council Bluffs, and I wonder if going back isn’t a sort of reminder for him. From there, we always go see the doctor that took care of him at Creighton, to give him a progress report of the last year. He always has a gift for us and one for Jimmy, to commemorate another year of being clean and sober.

From there, we would go to the place we had our first date, which wasn’t even open anymore. Finally, it would be off to the restaurant for that night to eat, then off to a movie or show, and then back home to the farm for a night of sex. We always managed to get two days off for our anniversary: one to celebrate and one to recover. Jimmy would allow himself one beer on our anniversary, as long as I would drive home. Since this was the only time Jimmy allowed himself to drink, I happily gave up alcohol for the night.

“You’ve got a big smile on your face,” Hollister remarked, as she finished inventory. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a plan for tomorrow, but I think the weather is going to foil it. We’ll have to go after the big storm,” I said, and outlined my idea. Hollister grinned and gave me the thumbs up, just as our pagers went off.

I listened to the message, noting that the flight crew was being called out to an accident on the interstate. Hollister and I finished with our rig, then went inside to see what was going on.

“Big wreck on 29,” the dispatcher said, as she returned to her terminal. Once she’d gotten everyone mobilized, she turned back to us. Her grey eyes were tired and I knew her shift was ending soon and she would be glad to get home. “I guess it’s starting to ice up and cars are hitting the ice at 70. You’d think Iowa drivers would have a bit more sense than that. We’re used to this!”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head. The drive home was going to be fun, I could already tell. “But this is what it takes, sadly. There’s always a big wreck or two during the start of the storm before people learn to slow down and stay home.”

“Are you guys going to make it home tonight?” she asked, looking at Hollister and I.

“I think so,” I said, nodding. “If not, we’ll get beds here. But Mondamin isn’t that far out, really. It’s mostly our gravel I’m worried about. Seven miles of icy gravel is not my idea of a good time.”

“Then why don’t you move into town?” she asked, with a smirk.

“Because I wouldn’t trade my farm for anything the rest of the year,” I said, and she laughed, shaking her head. “You going to wine and dine that husband of yours tomorrow?”

“I was planning on it, but I guess we’ll have to do it another day, if the interstate is as bad as you say.”

“I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere,” she informed me and Hollister asked her to pull up the road conditions map.

“Ugly,” Hollister muttered, seeing the pink and blue on the screen. “At least 29’s still wet up by Mo Valley and Mondamin. You might make it home yet, Coby.”

“I hope so. I want Jim to make it, too, though. He can’t exactly bring the helicopter home.”

“No, I think the hospital might complain,” Hollister said, laughing. “Why do you guys live so far out? I realize that with the interstate, Omaha’s not that far of a drive, but in the winter?”

“Most of the time, it’s not so bad, since they keep the interstate well cleaned. But nights like tonight it’s not fun. I’m thinking we’ll just get a hotel room or something. We have the next two days off before we have to be back to work, so we can just stay here and have our anniversary on schedule.”

I took my phone out of my pocket and sent a quick text to Jimmy. I knew he’d agree, since he’s out there right now, landing his rig on an icy interstate, waiting to bring back the victims of the pile up. I had been looking forward to getting home, but that was not to be. If the interstate was as slick as it looked, there was no way we were getting home. We both had brand new four wheel drive trucks, but four wheel drive was no match for ice.

“Hey, Coby, what time are you off?” a voice called and I looked up to see Sean Micheals, head of the EMT department.

“In about half an hour why?”

“Can you stay? Anthony called in because of the weather, and so did Megan. They’re coming from Mondamin but said the road was a skating rink.”

“I suppose,” I said, nodding.

“I appreciate it,” he said, smiling. He looked at Hollister and asked her the same question. “You guys only have to stay until I can get someone to come in, and you can sleep here.”

“I’ll do it, I’m not making it home, either,” she said, shrugging. “If it’s bad for the Mondamin crowd, it’s bad for the Honey Creek crowd, too.”

“The crowd of one?” I asked, and she laughed as she punched my arm. “I’m hurt; I can’t stay now, Sean.”

“Nice try, Shaddix,” he said, shaking his head. He looked back at the long rectangular schedule book in his hands. “Careful or you’ll have to call these people and beg them to come in to work.”

“I’m so scared,” I said, laughing harder when he flipped me off.

Sean was about to retort when I heard my husband’s voice over the radio. The helicopter was landing and the first victims were here. The ER snapped into action, one team taking a stretcher to the rooftop helipad, another getting ready to treat the victims. My job was mostly to stand back and wait for a call, since I didn’t do much more than drop patients off. I wasn’t a paramedic yet, though I was working on my certification. If needed, I would transport patients to the units, but otherwise, I had to stand back and wait.

A minute later, the first stretcher rolled in. It was a young girl and she was crying. I was on standby in case anything was needed and watched my colleagues in action. From the sounds of the shouting, she wasn’t in bad shape, despite the amount of blood I could see. I could tell from my stand point that she had at least a broken leg, but there was too much activity to see more than that.

The next stretcher rolled in and this person was unconscious. I knew that Jimmy could, if needed, fit four in his helicopter, so I waited to see who would be next. This person was a woman, and I could see a huge bruise on her face, along with an arm in a splint. I’d bet money she had a head injury, given her state. I listened the chatter around her, keeping an ear on my pager as well. At any moment, I could be called out to another accident, though I hoped it’d be in town rather than on the skating rink that was the interstate.

A third stretcher rolled in, the leader announcing that the chopper was going back out to get more. They were bringing them in three at a time, and no one looked to be in horrible shape. I hoped my husband was safe out there, as I was called in to help triage the front. People were still coming in for non-weather related problems, and they needed care as well. My job now would be to take vitals and get them back into a cubicle to be seen as soon as the current crisis died down. One glance out the windows of the lobby and I knew I was in for a double. Six in the morning to six in the morning wasn’t fun, but tonight, it would be necessary. The snow was flying and already a thick layer blanketed our parking lot. With a sigh, I started taking patients back to our check in room and taking vitals.

I like to unique with my pairings =)...and while I'm not a huge P. Roach fan, know very little about Jacoby (though I have researched, of course), I love writing this series. There are three of these right now (just wrote the final chapter for the third one) and I'm working on the prequel, trying to figure out how to tell their story from the very, very beginning.

You're on to me already, aren't you with telling it from Jacoby's POV first. Damn. *laughs* This was actually an experiment. I'm a 3rd person writer and I wanted to see if I could handle first person. I'm pleased with the results.

I have always been a Papa Roach fan, and a Coby fan especially, this oughta be good. Looking forward to it.

CiaraCobb> Uh oh! *laughs* If you see any glaring errors with Jacoby (it's an AU, but still) please let me know! Someone had already pointed out in the first run that I had his eye color wrong, so I changed that, but feel free to critique my Jacoby and see what you think =).

***

1

“Did you hear that the rigs are only running in town now?” John Adams asked from the co-pilot seat. His voice was a little muffled over the head set and I flipped on the search light, trying to find a place to land on the icy interstate. My first landing had been a bit bumpy because of the ice, and I tried to put it down more slowly this time.

“I didn’t hear that. I bet Coby has to stay,” I said, as I finally landed. My flight crew hurried to the remaining victims of this six car pileup and I waited for the signal to leave. There were ambulance crews on scene from Council Bluffs and a couple of the rural areas, mostly doing triage and trying to keep people alive in between flights.

“Him and Hollister both. Last word was that two EMts had called in and I’m pretty sure a couple of the paramedics will be out, too.”

“Thank God for the locals,” I said, watching everyone work. The injuries didn’t seem to be too bad, but Omaha had the biggest hospitals, so we logged a lot of flight time. I watched as a couple of people were loaded into ambulances, bound for Council Bluffs. Two more were coming to my chopper and I prepared to lift off again. “There’s no way we’re making it home tonight.”

“How much longer are you able to fly before you have to sleep?” John asked, as he ran through the check list with me before we lifted off.

“This is my last run. I’ll have to go as crew after this if I don’t get to sleep,” I said, finally getting the signal I needed. I lifted the chopper up and made way for UNMC in Omaha. I’d taken the first group to my main base at Creighton, but Creighton was getting crowded, so UNMC was next. “We’re going to UNMC guys.”

I made the flight in less than 10 minutes, radioing into their dispatch that I was landing with two criticals. Once the patients were off and my crew was back, we made the short fly across town and landed for what I hoped would be the night. With a yawn, I powered the chopper down and got it ready to sit for the night. Even if there was another call, I wouldn’t be flying, since I’d flown for my 12 hours today.

“Anyone seen Coby?” I asked, as I entered the ER. The previous hustle and bustle had died down and it was almost quiet. I had paperwork to do, but wanted to talk to him about sleeping at the hospital for tonight.

“He’s in room four,” a passing nurse said. “He’s got inside duty now, since he’s working a double. They’ve pulled the rigs for all but in town accidents.”

“So I heard. I won’t bother him if he’s busy, then,” I said, finding a quiet place to do my end of shift work. I hoped the storm would not ruin our plans for tomorrow, since it was our anniversary. I didn’t care if we had a hotel here in town, since we both kept overnight bags in our trucks just in case; I just didn’t want to reschedule. I still kick myself for our winter wedding sometimes. We got married back home, at the request of our parents, who flew the entire wedding party out on their dimes. But winter in California and winter in Iowa are two vastly different things.

As soon as I was done with my paperwork, I stripped out of my flight suit and hung it up for cleaning. Underneath, I had on the standard dark cargo pants and dark shirt of the paramedic crew. I went into the ER to see what they needed, stopping by my locker to grab my scissors, tape, bandages and anything else I felt would be necessary to have at hand tonight.

“Are you working a double Jim?” Sean asked, as he came out of his office. He looked tired and I knew he’d been busy begging people to come to work.

“Planning on it, though I’ve flown my 12 hours,” I told him, leaning against one of the counters in the main desk area. “I’ll have to go as a paramedic from here on out.”

“No problem,” he said, glancing at the clock behind the desk. “What time were you off?”

“10,” I answered, waving to one of the other pilots as he came on duty. “I worked an extra four for him or I’d have been off at six.”

“That was nice of you,” Sean said, then his face reflected deep thought. “When did you first fly today?”

“Around 11. I had to transfer someone from Norfolk.”

“Okay, good. I was afraid you’d logged an extra four hours and I would have to find a good reason for that. But now I don’t have to worry.”

“I’m here to give you ulcers,” I said, with a smirk and Sean laughed, as his pager went off. He looked relieved and went for a phone. No doubt, someone was agreeing to come in.

I went out into the main area of the ER, asking the various staff what their needs were. It was only 10, and I had plenty of time before I’d feel like sleeping, so I might as well be helpful. I floated around, helping set a broken bone here or calm a crying child there. I was frequently sent on the calls with children, since I seemed to have a touch that calmed even the most frightened child.

By two in the morning, it was time for bed. Sean had found enough people to come in and cover those of us nearing the 24 hour mark, and the day shift trudged off to the sleeping rooms located on the fifth floor of the hospital. If I was counting correctly, the entire ER day shift had been asked to stay and it showed in our faces.

“Here’s hoping we’re still able to go out today,” Coby said, as we held hands in the elevator. “I don’t want to reschedule.”

“Me either,” I agreed, as the doors opened. The fifth floor greeted us, dimly lit. It used to be a bright ward, meant for children having outpatient procedures or infusions, but that had all been moved to other areas of the hospital after a recent reshuffle. The walls were still brightly painted, but that was about it. “Night everyone.”

“Night guys,” people mumbled back, as we found rooms to sleep in.

The beds weren’t the most comfortable, but they were better than nothing. Coby and I shoved a couple of patient beds together, then stripped down to our boxers and t-shirts. We took our turns in the bathroom, once again patting ourselves on the back for packing overnight bags with everything in them. I took my one inhaler, then brushed my teeth and headed for bed. My doctor was good about giving me an extra of each medication I needed just so I could keep it here at work if I had to stay.

“Night babe,” Coby said, kissing me.

“Night,” I said, laying down. We snuggled as close as we could and drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning, I got up when I couldn’t sleep any longer. I took my bag down to the shower and grabbed a quick one, then looked outside. The snow was still falling and it was falling fast. I figured we could probably get out, but I wasn’t sure how far we’d get. I didn’t want to be stuck at work for my anniversary, but that was looking more and more likely. Sometimes I wonder why we don’t buy an old abandoned farm closer to Omaha, but then I remember how perfect our farm is in the summer and spring.

With a sigh, I went back to the room Coby and I had slept in and put my bag down. I finished dressing, pulling on my tennis shoes, figuring my snow boots would be better for later. I took my badge and went downstairs for breakfast, noting that it was just seven. I grabbed my usual breakfast: Cheerios with milk and a cup of coffee. Once I’d finished eating, I returned upstairs, knowing there were computers with full internet access available for staff that had to stay.

I entered the computer room, flicking on the TV in the room. I wasn’t normally one for TV in the mornings, but with the weather, I wanted to know what was going on. With that droning in the background, I checked my email, disregarding the blizzard warning emails, since that was a bit obvious. I emailed my mother back about when we’d be flying home again and told her we were hoping for spring or summer, but that would depend on money and work schedules. Coby had one semester left before he’d get his paramedic, so we’d have that to consider as well.

“Officers and city officials are recommending that people stay home and only go out if needed,” the voice of the newscaster said. “Most area businesses are shut down, and travel is not recommended anywhere in the city.”

“Great,” I muttered, as I opened a reply from my mother.

Don’t worry about the money, she wrote. You’re dad and I will take care of that. You just give us two weeks that you want to come out.

I responded that we’d see how things went and get back to them. I checked a few more sites, the ones that weren’t blocked, at least, and checked my email one more time just in case. Sure enough, mom was on, so we emailed back and forth a bit.

We’re getting a blizzard right now. Coby and I worked overtime last night and are still snowed in here at work. They have sleeping rooms for us, which is nice. I think our anniversary is going to be rescheduled. Travel isn’t recommended in the city and everything is pretty well closed, so we’ll have to celebrate another time.

Have you given more thought to our offer?

I groaned. Both Coby and I were from Southern California originally. It wasn’t until the night I almost killed myself that I met my fellow transplant and we became friends. He was the one who made sure I reconciled with my family and that I stayed clean. I’ve managed to stay clean and sober for five years now, thanks to him.

But mom wanted us home. She understood that we loved it in Iowa, with our farm. We had prize winning (no joke) vegetable and flower gardens all summer long and we had a permanent booth at two area farmers markets. We were staples at county fairs and the state fair, and frequently brought home blue ribbons. But the winters were hard on us and mom was worried from November to March about us up here in the snow.

We’re still discussing it, I replied. Cost of living is higher out there and we wouldn’t be able to find a house like we have here. I know you want us to come home, mom, but we really like it up here. But I promise more discussion on the subject and I’ll give you a solid answer soon.

I waited, knowing that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I was not disappointed, either, though she chose to call rather than email again. I closed out of my email and turned the TV off, then closed the door to the lounge. Finally, I flipped my black phone open and greeted my mother.

“Good morning,” I said, glancing at a clock. It was eight now, and mom was up early. “Why are you up at six in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, and I knew why. I could hear her heavy sigh on the other end and I waited. “Why don’t you want to come home?”

“It’s not that,” I said, wishing she’d quit with the guilt trips. I looked out the frosted window and watched the snowflakes circulating. Why did we want to stay here?

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just—we’re established here, mom,” I said, trying to find the words. “We haven’t said no for sure, by the way. It’s just that leaving everything we have here…it’s just not something I’m ready to do.”

“But Jimmy, what has that state done for you? If it wasn’t for someone walking by that night, we wouldn’t have you anymore.”

“But that’s what the state as done for me,” I protested, wishing she’d stop bringing up that night. “Someone walked by and saw me. They got me the help I needed. From that, I got the world’s greatest husband and an amazing job. Jacoby showed me what I had to live for, mom. He got me reunited with my family and I will always be grateful for that. But to leave the farm and our friends and everything we’ve established up here…I don’t know.”

“What’s holding you there? You can fly helicopters here, Jimmy. Jacoby can be a paramedic here. He can finish his schooling there and then you guys can move this summer,” she reasoned. This was always her argument, but she didn’t understand something: jobs like mine are few and far between.

“Let us talk about it some more, okay?” I asked, tired of arguing with her. “We’re already planning to come home for two weeks sometime this summer, after Coby graduates. Are you coming for his graduation?”

“When is it?” she asked, and I could hear the paper rustling on the computer desk. Mom wasn’t exactly an organized person. I could still picture the mess of scratch paper, some scribbled with dates and times or notes, and others blank.

“May 9th, 2010 at one in the afternoon,” I said, knowing we’d emailed her about it two weeks ago.

“We’ll be there,” she said, and I could easily picture her smile. “I won’t push the issue of moving home, Jim. But I do miss you. We lost you for so many years and I don’t want to miss out on any more.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “I miss you too. Once we’re able to leave Omaha, I promise we’ll have a good talk about it and give you our decision. But I don’t want hurt feelings if we decide to stay here.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try,” she said, and I knew she meant it. “I’d better go, but I love you and we’ll see you in May.”

“I love you, too,” I said, and hung up. I missed my mom like crazy, and my dad and other family as well, but there was no way I leaving Iowa.

I'm not a massive fan, don't worry, I won't pick him apart. Besides, as you said, this is AU so it's not the Coby I know. I'm just gonna enjoy the story.

Hopefully it will be an enjoyable story! The two places I've had it so far have had a good response, so I'm excited to see what you guys think . This is a whole different type of story for me (first person, slash, Jacoby, completely AU), but I have really enjoyed writing it!

AU I can handle, and slash I have no issue with, first person I usually try and avoid but only on the basis that the majority (in my experience) are poorly written self inserts. This is clearly not that, so bring it on!

First person was an experiment...and I'm kind of still working on it, but I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far =).

2

When I woke up, I saw that Jimmy was already up. I stretched as I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering how patients spent so many hours in these things. Perhaps it was just the fact that these beds were older, but I wasn’t sure I’d slept all that well. My back was aching and I felt like I hadn't slept a wink. A quick glance at my watch put the time at 10 and I wondered how long Jimmy had been up. He was never one for sleep, and four to five hours a night did him fine.

I went to the window and looked out, realizing that we were stuck. I doubted we’d get so far as the parking lot, since the snow was still falling rapidly. I flipped on the TV and was instantly dismayed when I heard that travel was not recommended in town or out. What a way to spend my 10th anniversary.

Putting that from my mind for the moment, I went for a shower, then wandered downstairs to see what was left for breakfast. I grabbed some fruit and a bottle of juice, a box of cereal and some milk, then returned upstairs. There were internet ready computers up here, so that would be one way to pass the time.

“Hey,” I said, seeing Jimmy laying on a beige cloth couch near the window. He had the TV off and seemed to be lost in thought. “Earth to my husband.”

“Sorry,” he said, blinking. He rubbed his eyes then sat up a little. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary,” I said, sitting down at the computer. “What were you doing?”

“Meditating,” he said, and I knew at once what had happened.

“Talked to your mom?”

“Yep. And she just wanted to know why we didn’t want to move home. I know it’s tempting on a day like this, but to leave what we have here? Sure I can fly out there, but it takes months to get onto the flight crew of a hospital.”

“I know,” I said, my fingers clicking over the keys. I wanted to check my email, and see if my mother was on the same path as Jimmy’s today. Both were pushing us to come home and we were resisting just like stubborn toddlers. Once I got my email open, I waded through a few junk ones, mostly ads for stores we shop, then got the email from my mother. “It’s not just your mom.”

“It’s a blizzard, of course they’re both going on at us,” Jimmy said, sounding upset. “I’m so tired of being asked why we don’t want to come home. If we wanted to come home, we’d do it!”

“Here’s her latest trick,” I said, sighing. “She’s sending me jobs. Paramedics, EMTs, all with salaries. The thing is, we can make twice there than here, but we have to live like here. There’s just too high of a cost of living.”

“That’s what I keep telling my mother,” he said, getting a bit louder. I sometimes wonder if it was wise to reunite him and his parents. “But she thinks I can just go anywhere and fly. It’s not that fucking easy.”

“What’s not easy?” a voice asked from the doorway, and Hollister entered the room. She could sense the tension, no doubt, and quickly turned to leave. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Once the heavy wooden door was closed again, I emailed my mother and told her Jimmy and I would talk about it. I logged out of everything, then went to sit with Jimmy.

“Calm down, okay? We’re not moving and we just need to give them that solid answer. We promised an answer by the end of January. We’ve got three weeks to go.”

“We should just tell them. Hurt their feelings now and get it over with. It was bad enough we had to work Christmas and couldn’t get home. Now we’ve got this blizzard and we might get home in July. June at the earliest. They’re all coming for your graduation, of course, but we’ve not been home for almost a year now and mom has to point that out too. I told her we couldn’t afford it and it was hard to get time off, especially for me.”

“So we’ll save up and go this summer. We’ve been banking our PTO, refusing HRs when we can and we’re each putting a little back each check. We should be able to go this summer. Sean already told me we’d be able to get the time off if we wait until middle to end of June to ask.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mood had turned foul because his day was ruined. We had had plans and being stuck in the hospital was not among them. I was glad we were stuck here as employees and not patients, but it didn’t make Jimmy’s day any better. We had had to do a lot of trading to get these days off, and now I felt we might as well work.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing, but needing to hear it.

“Like you don’t know. Our anniversary is ruined.”

“It doesn’t have to be. When the storm clears, we’ll do our dinner, movie, and sightseeing. But we get to be together, at least. Imagine if we’d gotten off at our normal times; one of us would be stuck here and another would be stuck at home. That would ruin things. But we’re together, and we should still celebrate.”

“Here?” Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows incredulously. “No thanks. This isn’t terribly romantic.”

“It doesn’t have to be romantic. We can spend the day lounging around and being together. I know we’ll be stuck with cafeteria food and such, but it’s better than no food. I know we don’t have any lights back home, Landan’s been over to feed the cats, and he said it’s blade in, blade out.”

“If we’re going to celebrate, I want to do it like always,” Jimmy protested, and I sighed. “You know they’ll ask us to work.”

“I know and we don’t have to.”

“We do if we want a vacation,” he said, as his cell rang. He gave me a look that said he was right as he answered. “Hey Sean. How many called in?” He was silent, nodding, then looked at me. “I see. I’ll ask Coby.” He covered the small speaker and smirked. “Told you. They want us on duty in an hour. The helicopter is grounded, but ER is filling up with people who had to go out.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. That was the bad part of being stuck at work like this. I returned to the computer and spent the next hour doing nothing. Jimmy left to go get dressed and finally dragged me away with 20 minutes to spare. Not surprisingly, a few of us that had stayed last night were dressed again and on our way downstairs to start a new shift at noon. Most people lived in Omaha, but quite a few of them were far enough out that they couldn’t make it in. There were several of us that came in from Mondamin and the surrounding area and they couldn’t make it. Therefore, the ER had just about nobody. “Why did Sean wait until now?”

“He managed to get some people in. A couple have husbands who work for the city, so they got rides in the plows. A couple have four wheel drive and brought some people in. But they’re short one paramedic, one EMT and four nurses. He said we’d be on for a couple of hours probably, just to get them through.”

“Why are people in the ER anyway? It’s too early to be shoveling,” I said, as we arrived on the ground floor.

“Accidents, mostly,” one of the nurses said, her eyes dulled with lack of sleep. The interior of the elevator was lit with several bright fluorescent lights, and was a standard dull beige. It was the staff elevator, after all, and it didn’t need to be pretty. “Can’t wait.”

“Me either,” I grumbled, as the doors opened. The dim hallway leading to ER greeted us and there was a collective sigh. “How depressing is it to see this hallway on your way to your room?”

“I’ve thought about that,” Jimmy said, nodding. We were all trudging to the ER and hoping it wasn’t as bad as Sean had made it out to be. “But most of our patients are sleeping or out of it or in pain and probably don’t care.”

“True,” the nurse agreed, trying to look more alert as we swiped our badges at the time clock. “Well, here we go again.”

Sean greeted us with a smile, and we could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep over night, either.

“Thanks guys,” he said, pointing us to the main desk. “We need someone to help out with a broken leg in bay three and someone else to take a patient to four east.”

“I’ll transport,” I offered and Sean pointed me to bay seven. There was an elderly woman lying on the gurney, and the nurse handed me the chart.

“Room 456. She’s a hip fracture,” she said, and I thanked her for the information. I looked at the name on the chart, then smiled. “Good afternoon, Martha. Are you ready to go?”

She said nothing and the nurse explained that she was confused and hard of hearing. I nodded, then pushed the bed out of the bay, watching as another one filled its place as soon as I left. I knew things were going to be busy, but with as many hospitals as there are in Omaha, I didn’t think we’d be that busy.

I delivered a very sleepy Martha to her nurse, and once she was in her new bed, I stripped down the cart, put the linens in the laundry and got new. One of the nurses asked me how ER was looking and I said it was full, which was the truth. She jokingly said they were closed and I told her I’d do my best to remember that.

I returned downstairs, pondering my mother’s email. She and my mother-in-law had some sort of agenda, I think, to get us home. I don’t know why it means so much to them, though. Our parents are healthy, so it’s not like there’s an impending death or anything. No other family members, not even our fathers, were pushing for us to come home. I think our moms just want their boys back.

“Coby, can you ride in a rig to an accident?” Sean asked, tossing me a radio and pager. “You’ll be going out with Jimmy. It’s about two blocks, but we need a couple of ambulances.”

That was pretty much how my impromptu shift went. I clocked in at noon and clocked out that night around midnight. Jimmy and I rode up in the elevator in silence. I was simply tired, since the runs I made were a bit harrowing with the slick streets and decreased visibility. I knew Jimmy was just upset about the necessary cancellation of our plans. Getting married in California in January was a great idea, but trying to celebrate that in Iowa wasn’t so smart.

“I just want to go to bed,” Jimmy complained, as we arrived back on the sleeping floor. He said nothing further as he took his meds, brushed his teeth, changed, and went to bed.

I knew he would cheer up eventually, and Sean had assured us that we’d done our time and would not be called upon tomorrow. The snow was letting up and the storm was supposed to end over night. There was a chance that we could try for home tomorrow, though we’d probably be smarter to stay. Jimmy had to work the weekend, and getting back might be a challenge.

“You know, we could get a hotel after this,” I said, returning to the room after taking care of my evening doings. Jimmy was silent. “I love you.”

When I was met with further silence, I sighed and turned out the lights. Jimmy would come around like always.

3

I sighed as I heard Coby tell me he loved me. I knew I was being childish and pouting, but I didn’t care. This is the third year in our marriage that we’ve gotten snowed out of our celebration. The last two we were at least at home and could do something, then go into Omaha for our normal plans when the storm cleared and the roads were passable. But this year, we were stuck at work, and ended up working on a day we’d normally be off. Sean always gave us the day off and before I’d left the ER tonight, he’d apologized profusely. But he’d been short on EMTs and paramedics, so Jacoby and I had been called in. I’d told Sean there were no hard feelings as sincerely as possible, but there were hard feelings. Plenty of them. I still had to work this weekend, and, even though we had most of the next week off, Sean had promised to see what he could do about some extra time off for us to celebrate.

I knew that Jacoby would suggest a hotel, which he had, and he’d suggest that we try to celebrate tomorrow. That one I was still waiting for, but it would come in the morning. I’m all for the hotel, because the beds are more comfortable and we can sleep together, rather than having two beds shoved together. But to celebrate? I’m not going celebrate until we can do it like normal. I don’t want to sound stuck up or anything, but for me, some things are important. There are certain people it’s important to visit, certain places are important, and if we can’t do it all at once, then it’s hard for me. Jacoby knows I developed a horrid case of OCD after my last relapse and stint through rehab, and he’s been very understanding about things. But I don’t know if he’s going to be so understanding this time.

I listened to his soft snores from beside me and sighed. I loved my job, but mom’s offer kept going through my head. The upside to going back home would be the weather. We wouldn’t be in this situation if we lived in Southern California. But then I think about the summers here and planting in the spring. I think about what we’d be giving up and I can’t do that. I can’t give up our markets and fairs and farm. The farm was in ruins when we bought it and we didn’t know what two college age guys were going to do with 180 acres, exactly, but we figured it out. We rented the fields out for $500 a month to a local farmer who wanted to expand. When he retired four years ago, we hit the recession and haven’t been able to rent the land out. But we’re trying, and we have a new neighbor that’s interested in it. He’s got fields already, since he inherited his parent’s place, but he wants more and I said he could have our fields for $500 a month.

We made the most of the acre that we kept. We bought a used tractor and we now raise vegetable gardens and flower gardens. We planted new trees our first summer there and those trees, 10 years on, look amazing. To leave all of that would break my heart and I can’t do it. I know the weather sucks up here in the winter, but we’re adapted now. I’ve only been back with my parents for two years; what if living that close by ruins all of that? I don’t want to lose my parents all over again.

With a sigh, I turned over, cursing these uncomfortable beds. I don’t see how patients do it day after day and night after night. I’ve slept in these rooms many times in my employment here, which is nearing the eight year mark. Creighton has been good to me: they saved my life, let Jacoby be my family and stay by my side, then they helped me through rehab and, when I got my GED and entered EMT training, gave me clinical hours and eventually a job. They saw the promise I had in the helicopter, and paid for my flight training. In the almost eight years I’ve been here, they paid for whatever training I need, and they didn’t fire me when I relapsed four times with drug and alcohol abuse. They’ve become my close family, even though I love my parents and two sisters. But Creighton is where my new life started and they are always going to be closer to me.

I turned over onto my stomach, pulling in a deep breath. I needed sleep, even if I wasn’t going to be called in tomorrow. Sean had promised that Jacoby and I had done our over time in the crisis, so we were guaranteed tomorrow off. I wanted to get a hotel right away, since there was one not far from here. Tomorrow was Thursday, so it wasn’t worth trying to get home. We can go home on Sunday and by then the roads should be passable.

Sleep continued to elude me for the next two hours. I finally rolled onto my back and started meditating. I was just worked up because our big anniversary, the 10 year, had been ruined, I was under pressure from my mother to move home and I was tired from working so many hours so close together. If there’s such a thing as air rage, I’m a prime candidate, and I know I’m on flight crew for Friday starting at 0600.

Coby didn’t quite get it the first time he found he meditating. He thought I was high and I informed him that I was simply using a technique taught to me in rehab to relax and fight off cravings. I found it helpful, however, for many other things: stress relief, insomnia. I’m a known insomniac, from my drug days, and refuse to take sleeping pills. If I’m found with any drugs in my system, my flying days are over. Sleeping pills aren’t drugs, but they can be habit-forming and I’m not taking the chance.

I felt my body relaxing as I started with the deep breathing. I didn’t think I’d get a full meditation in, since sleep was the goal, but I wanted to relax. I wanted to sleep, and I wanted to be ready to fly on Friday morning. My job as a pilot meant a lot of standing around and waiting, which was why I was glad I had my paramedic certification. If I wasn’t flying, I was still useful in the ER. It made for job security, at least, in this economy.

I could feel my eyes becoming heavy and I worked on clearing my mind. I knew the night was waning and I wanted to get some sleep before Jacoby was ready to get up and start the day. I continued my breathing pattern, clearing my head, and finally, I felt sleep come over me.

***

The next morning, I was awakened by Jacoby shaking my shoulder and asking if I was going to sleep all day. I rolled over and groaned, asking what time it was.

“It’s 10.”

“10 does not constitute sleeping all day,” I informed him, as I snuggled back into the covers. “I couldn’t sleep last night and it was late when I finally meditated myself to sleep.”

“I’ve already got us a hotel room,” Jacoby said. “I’m ready to start celebrating. The snow has stopped, the wind is down and the plows have got the roads mostly cleared.”

“Goody,” I said, sighing. “But we work all weekend, in case you forgot. I’m on flight crew all weekend, too, so celebrating isn’t what I want to do today.”

“Come on, Jim,” Coby said, and I knew he was getting upset. “We missed it by one day. We can at least do something for lunch, right?”

“Not if it’s for our anniversary. I’m not doing it if we can’t do it right, and we can’t do it right if we have to work this weekend. “

“Jimmy, listen. I know you have this thing where you want to do things the exact same every time, but we just can’t right now. We both have to work a full week next week, because it’s going to be hell for Sean to arrange the schedule otherwise. Besides, there aren’t that many people who can take your place. We’re going to have to celebrate today because we probably won’t get much time next week.”

“You’ve got a full schedule next week? After working this weekend?” I asked, sitting up. We worked 12 hour shifts, and that meant our weekend was Friday, Saturday and Sunday, with one day of work the week following. “What the hell? Don’t you work Saturday, Sunday and then one other day?”

“No,” he said, shaking head. “I’m splitting the weekend with Devan, so he’s on this weekend for me. You knew that.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that,” I said, feeling my OCD kick into high gear. “You failed to mention that you were trading. Sean promised me he’d find time for us off the schedule next week, to make up for this week, and I said no worries, because we had the week off and could reschedule.”

“Jimmy, I know I told you I traded this weekend, I know I did! We were going over our schedule on Monday, putting it on the calendar and I told you I traded. Devan needed next weekend off because his family is going to be here.”

“You said no such thing!” I accused, glaring at him. My OCD was in overdrive now, because it sounded like we’d be celebrating out of sequence. “I am not going to celebrate today, Coby! This is our day of rest after our celebration. There are people to see and places to go and we can’t do that all in one day and then go work all weekend. I certainly don’t want to be tired tomorrow since I’m on to fly!”

Jacoby threw his hands up in the air and sighed. He rubbed his face, going to the window and looking out. The sun was shining; glinting off the snow and making the room seem twice as bright as usual. My hands were shaking, my lower lip trembling. He was setting off the usual attack and I was trying to keep it under control.

“Jimmy, look. It’s today or never. I’ve got to work Monday and Tuesday. I’ve got Thursday off, then I work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. We can celebrate today or next Thursday, but we can’t have two days like normal. I’m sorry that the weather got in the way, but that’s life living in Iowa.”

He’d turned around and was facing me. I was sitting up in bed, my black t-shirt twisted a bit around me, my Jack Daniel’s pajama pants bunched up under my knees. I smoothed my clothes, reaching for my glasses. I put the black rectangular frames over my face and sighed. What the hell was going on?

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me about this switch,” I said, trying to calm my shaking hands. I bunched the blankets up in my hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I did tell you. I don’t know where your brain was, but I did tell you. I told you Devan and I traded, wrote it on the calendar and you said that was fine.”

“I don’t remember that,” I said, thinking over the last week. Something like that would’ve stood out in my memories of the week. We always tell each other about trades, in case it doesn’t work or something. “I’d remember that. Didn’t you listen to the forecast? You knew this storm was coming and there was a good chance we’d have to reschedule our celebration, Jacoby. Why did you trade under those circumstances?”

“Jimmy, I was the last one Devan asked,” he said, getting angry. “He’d asked everyone else and everyone else was skittish because of the weather. I was his last chance, and I said I’d do it. I knew I could stay if I needed to. But he hasn’t seen his folks in a couple of years, since they live overseas and all, so he wanted to spend the week they were here with them.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I think it’s pretty inconsiderate of you to trade under the circumstances. I’m sorry that he hasn’t seen his parents in two years, but we haven’t been home for a year, and we’re not trading around like mad to hang with them.”

“Jimmy, I’m surprised at you,” Jacoby said, glaring at me. “When we ask for the time off this summer to go out to California, we’re going to have to do some trading. How would you feel if everyone said sorry, can’t trade, busy? You’d be pretty pissed, right? Devan was desperate, and I was the only one to trade with. I traded and I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but you’ll be glad for it when we’re back home this summer.”

I continued to glare at Jacoby, trying to keep my hands from shaking. He didn’t understand; he didn’t understand how important this celebration was to me, especially since it was our tenth. We weren’t supposed to make it this far, and yet, here we are. Despite our problems and my addiction, we made it. Now, Coby had gone and ruined it for me.

“Coby, look, I’m sorry,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “But this was an important one for me, okay? We weren’t supposed to make it this far and we did. I wanted this to be special, our usual two day celebration, and now you want to condense it down to one day? We can’t do everything in one day, Coby!”

“We’re going to have to!” he shouted back, coming over to the bed. “We don’t have a choice, Jimmy! We do it today or next Thursday, but that’s it. I don’t want to put it off any longer! I’m sorry if your problem won’t let you be flexible, but you’re going to have to be.”

“You know what?” I said, tossing the covers aside. I towered over my husband, and I couldn’t hide the hurt I was feeling. “Just cancel it. I’ll go visit those people by appointment and I just won’t go to CB this year. Fuck this!”

With that, I went to the bathroom and showered, brushed my teeth and got ready for the day. I went downstairs, charged some breakfast to my badge, then returned upstairs. I glanced at my watch and realized I had less than 24 hours before I had to fly. Once back upstairs, I packed my shit and took my duffel to my truck. Jacoby had left me a note telling me what room we were in at the hotel across the street. Realizing that my truck was going to take a while to dig out, I left it, then walked to the Best Western and got my key.

I keyed in, seeing another note from Coby, stating that he’d gone out for a bit and would be available on his cell. He was going to try to get home tonight, since he had the weekend off (way to rub it in, Cobs, I thought), but the room was paid for. I slammed my duffel on the only bed in the room and took my phone out.

You know, it’s nice of you to stay in town with me, jerk, I texted and hit send.

If you can’t act like a grown up, I don’t see why I should. Have a good weekend at work and I’ll see you Sunday night.

That was his way of saying the talk was over. I texted back that I was not done with this, then threw myself on the bed. I wish I’d brought my computer, but hadn’t planned to stay this long. A night or two, sure, but that was it. I should’ve stayed at the hospital, since at least I had internet there. With a sigh, I called up the internet on my phone, squinting to read the small screen. I had emailed Dr. Mathias, the man who saved my life all those years ago, to see if I could meet him today. I saw that he’d emailed me back and said that he was out of town until next Friday. He could meet me a week from Saturday, though, for lunch.

That would have to do, so I emailed him back and accepted the appointment. Today was just fucked for me, so I was going to stay in today. I had a couple of books with me and could always go buy more. I’d go out for lunch, fast food, probably, but I wasn’t doing anything anniversary related today.

Fuck anniversaries.

4

Just a heads up: First Tour will be update later tonight. I need to edit and it's been a VERY busy, hectic day. That would also explain the time of this posting. Things will be better over the weekend. Then they'll be super busy again next week.

***

Driving through the streets of Omaha, I tried to get my temper under control. The roads were still a little slick, since snow still covered them. I was on my way to a bookstore, in need of strong coffee and a new book. I couldn’t believe how Jimmy was acting! I tried to be understanding when Jimmy's OCD flared up, and I did my best to help Jimmy through the hard times, but sometimes, I just couldn’t get around it. This was one of those times. I understood that Jimmy needed his time to visit people and places, and we would go to each place and visit each person, then go eat and have a little sex. I knew he had to fly tomorrow, so I wasn’t going to make it the marathon it usually was. I was going to be considerate, knowing he’d need to be well rested tomorrow.

But no. He had to go and be a big baby about it and storm off. If he wanted to be that way, he could spend the weekend alone in that damn hotel. I paid for it, so he wouldn’t have to worry about that. My gift to him was waiting at home, since we always got each other something small. This year, I’d gotten him a custom coffee tin, partly to feed his coffee addiction and mostly because he’d love it.

I was trying to understand why he was so upset. I know I told him about the trade, because we always tell each other about trades. It’s a sort of unspoken rule between us, that we tell each other about trades. If anything conflicts, we can get out of the trade. When Devon asked me to trade, I asked Jimmy if it was fine and he said it was. So he knew about it, and can’t say that he didn’t.

I pulled into the bookstore lot and got the first spot I found. My phone buzzed and I looked down to see a text from Jimmy. No doubt, he got my note about me going home this weekend.

You know, it’s nice of you to stay in town with me, jerk, he wrote.

If you can’t act like a grown up, I don’t see why I should. Have a good weekend at work and I’ll see you Sunday night. I texted back, indicating that the conversation was over.

We’re not done talking about this. he responded, but I declined to text him back. I slammed the truck door shut behind me and went into the café, sliding a bit in the parking lot. The snow was packed and a bit slick. The café portion of the store was even more packed, and I sighed. I just wanted some quiet in my day. I detoured to the book section and started browsing, quickly deciding on two books. I went to the CD section and grabbed two new releases, then checked out. I got my coffee and decided to return to the hotel. I still had a key, since I hadn’t checked out for sure yet. I got a parking spot, then went in and found a quiet, secluded corner of the lobby to sit in. I took a deep breath, wondering what was wrong with Jimmy. Any other time our anniversary had been rescheduled he was fine. He might be a bit peeved, but we’d celebrate at home and then go into town and visit when the weather cleared. I just didn’t see what the big deal was. I know, this was our tenth and all, but we knew what could happen when we got married in January. We got married back home, since my family is all out there and it was easier for us to fly then them. We knew that a January wedding out there was good but we might have problems celebrating here.

But Jimmy couldn’t accept it now, for some reason. I just didn’t get it. Yeah, getting stranded at work sucks, but it happens. We’ve been the ones calling in before and people had to cover us, so it was our turn, so to speak. I know that our plans got fucked up, but that wasn’t my fault. He said it was fine to trade, knowing the weather was coming. He could’ve asked me not to trade, and I would’ve turned Devon down. He’d have understood. Instead, Jimmy said to trade and not to worry. Now, he’s pissed because we can’t celebrate the way we usually do.

I covered my face with my hands and let out a growl. How I’d made it 10 years with him was beyond me. At this point, I was ready to give up, but I knew that wasn’t the way to handle it. I knew that I’d have to talk to him about this, but now wasn’t the time for that, either. He wouldn’t want to speak to me, he was too mad.

“Sorry, didn’t know this spot was taken,” a familiar lisping voice said, and I looked up to see Jimmy. His face conveyed how angry he was and he turned, starting to walk away.

“Jimmy, wait,” I said, and he stopped, turning back to look at me. He was impatient, I could tell, and I indicated chair in front of me. “Let’s talk.”

“Why? You’re going home, aren’t you?” he asked, and he sounded indignant. “Figure I’m not the one you want to be around anymore?”

“Jimmy, I just don’t see why you’re so upset, that’s all,” I tried to explain, as he folded his tall frame into a chair. “I know it sucks that the weather got in our way, but we had today. I checked and the interstate is passable now. We could have gone to the bar, we could’ve seen Dr. Mathias, and we could’ve gone to the site of our first date. We can still go out to eat and we can still have sex. I know you have to fly tomorrow, so I was going to take it easy. But apparently, that’s not what you want, so we won’t do it. I figured you’d want time alone.”

“Dr. Mathias and I are having lunch next Saturday,” Jimmy said, sounding sad. “He’s out of town right now. I want to do this the right way, over two days. That’s how we do it. I want time to visit the spots and to visit with the people. I’m not going to cram an important two day event into one afternoon!”

“Look, I don’t want to fight,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “I know how much it means to you, but you approved the trade, Jimmy.”

“I did not approve anything!” he shouted, rising to his feet in rage. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat this.”

“Fine,” I said, taking my phone out. I went back through my text messages, calling up the one I sent. “See? There’s the text where I asked your opinion.” I flipped a bit through replies and then thrust it back into his face. “And there, James Owen Shaddix, is your response.”

Go ahead and trade, Cobs. If the weather affects our anniversary, we’ll deal with it.

Jimmy was stunned as he read the text, scrolling down a bit to make sure it was from him. He threw my phone at me, then stormed out of the lobby. I rolled my eyes, giving him a few seconds before I took my bag and followed him. I met him at the elevator, which we boarded and rode in silence. We walked to our room and Jimmy keyed in, walking ahead of me, not holding the door. I followed, as he threw himself down on the bed. I sat down in the desk chair available in the room and waited for him to speak.

“I did not send that,” he said, pointing at my phone.

“Well, I’d like to know who did, then,” I said, opening the reply once again. “Sent by Jimmy Shaddix.”

“Coby, this anniversary has meant so much to me, and I’ve been looking forward to it all fucking year! Why, when I knew there was a huge storm coming, would I tell you to trade weekends?”

“I don’t know, Jim, but there it is, proof that you did,” I said, handing him the phone again.

“I didn’t send that, I swear!” he screamed, and, for the first time in a long time, I saw him cry. He was taking his own phone out, wiping frantically at the tears cascading down his face, as he got into his own messages, looking to see if he had an identical one in his phone. I knew by the look on his face that he did. “I didn’t send it. I would never have told you to trade with the weather the way it was and our anniversary!”

I went to him, uncomfortable with the tears. I had never seen him cry this hard before. He’d cried, of course, during his withdrawals and he’d cried when the pain got to be too much when he first woke up, but over the last 10 years, I’d rarely seen him cry.

“Jimmy, honey, deep breath,” I said, as he gasped out his breaths, sobs taking the place of his breathing. I moved to take him into my arms, but he moved away.

“No!” he shouted, and I didn’t know what was going on. “I didn’t send that! I wouldn’t have said yes, Coby, you know that! You knew how much our tenth anniversary meant to me!”

“Jimmy, all I have is what I have,” I said, not sure if I was making any sense. “You gave me the go ahead to trade, so I did.”

“But I didn’t!” he shouted, and he rocketed to his feet, tears streaming down his face as he paced the room frantically. “I didn’t tell you to trade!”

I didn’t know what to do anymore. I had proof that he did, I had the text message. Neither of us are savvy enough to alter the sender of a text message, so it came from Jimmy. I watched as my husband had a nervous breakdown in front of me, unsure of what to do. Yeah, I’m an EMT and yes, I’ve taken care of psych patients before, but I have medications to give them and knock them out in the ambulance. I’m no good when they’re up and moving and not in my ambulance!

“Jimmy, calm down,” I said, standing. I went to him, wondering what in the world was going on. I managed to get him to the bed, and got him to sit down. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jimmy. I have the message and it’s from you. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to tell you. Did you misunderstand my message?”

Jimmy looked up at me, his eyes red and puffy, his nose running. I grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to him. I watched as he wiped his nose, then looked at the message I’d sent him. I read it over on my phone, thinking it clear what I was asking.

Devon wants to trade weekends with me. He’ll work the weekend after our anniversary for me and I’ll work the following weekend for him.

“But—“ Jimmy said, looking at the message again. “I understood it, but I swear, I didn’t tell you to trade. I remember getting this now, but I remember typing in that I didn’t want you to trade, because of the weather. I swear, Cobs, I didn’t tell you to trade.”

I sighed, unsure what to say. I had all the proof I needed, after all, in the text messages on my phone. Jimmy had clearly said to trade and we’d deal with it. I couldn’t back out now, since Devon had turned in the paper and it was all said and done.

“Well, no matter what, I can’t trade back now,” I said, my voice hard. He could cry about it all he wanted, but he’d said to go for it and I had traded. “So, cry all you want, but you had the choice of celebrating today. You chose to act like this, so now you’re stuck not doing anything.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound one bit sorry. “But there is no way in hell I agreed to that trade. I’m not going to cram the most important day of my life into one day. I’m just not. Now, go the hell home if you want, stay here if you want, but I’m not celebrating. I’m cancelling!”

With that, he took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and left the room. I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. It was just around noon, so he’d probably go eat somewhere. I wished him luck getting his truck out, since it had taken me close to an hour to dig mine out. We must’ve gotten over a foot of snow with this storm.

I did a quick calculation of the time different between here and California, then called my mother. She was always able to calm me down and I hoped she’d have some advice for me. She liked Jimmy, so I hoped she could help.

“Hi, this is Jeanette Shaddix and I’m unable to answer my phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

I sighed, then left a message asking her to call me back. I didn’t know who else to call, figuring that most people were at work. Most of our friends had 8-5 jobs, so calling them at noon Iowa time wasn’t exactly an option. Then, I thought about one person who could help and who worked a night shift out in Huntington Beach. I dialed the number quickly, relieved when he answered and didn’t sound groggy.

“Brian? I didn’t wake you, did I?” I asked.

“No, what’s up?” he asked.

“I need your help,” I said, sighing. I explained the situation and waited to hear what Brian had to say.

“I’m not sure what to tell you. The last time he had a reaction like this was when he left California 12 years ago,” Brian said, and I could tell he was thinking. “Where is he now?”

“He took off and I assume he’s going to dig his truck out and go to lunch. I’m not worried that he’ll do something stupid, I just don’t know how to handle the situation.”

“Let me call him and call you back,” he said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Bri.”

“No problem, bro.”

I hung up, hoping that Brian would have better luck with Jimmy. After all, he’d been friends with him for years. Once we’d learned Jimmy's identity and started finding family, we also started finding friends. He and Brian had met in junior high and Brian had been leading the search for his friend before I had called him to say he’d been found. Ever since, Brian and Jimmy had kept in close contact, and I was starting to think that Brian was my last hope.

5

I was sitting in a downtown restaurant, waiting for food, when my phone rang. I looked at the caller I.D., and furrowed my brow when Brian was calling. We talked often, but I had just talked to him a couple of days ago, so I figured it would be awhile yet before I heard from him again. I flipped open the phone, figuring I had a moment before my food came.

“You busy?” he asked, and I sighed. That was code for ‘we need to talk’.

“I’m waiting for food right now,” I said, leaning my arms on the bar. I wasn’t drinking, but it was very tempting. “Can I call you after I eat?”

“Sure. I’ve got the day and night off, so give me a call when you’re done.”

I said I would and hung up, just as my food arrived. I wasn’t all that hungry, but food helped me calm down. I got a refill of my pop, then got down to eating. I had an idea why Brian had called, though I didn’t think it was his place to get involved. Once my sandwich and fries were gone, I paid my bill and sighed, pulling out my phone. I dialed Brian back, but before hitting send, decided to wait until I was back at the hotel. The roads were slick and I was a terrible multitasker to begin with. I made my way back, wondering if Jacoby was going to stay or not. Once I’d parked back at work, I walked across the street, then up to our room.

The room was empty when I entered, with a note from Jacoby that he was out for lunch with a friend from work. I shrugged, then returned Brian’s call as promised.

“Hey Bri, did Jacoby put you up to this?” I asked, and I knew my tone wasn’t very friendly.

“Not exactly,” he said, and he was much calmer than I. “But he is concerned. What’s going on?”

“It’s our 10th anniversary,” I said, as I sat down on the bed. I laid down to be more comfortable. “Well, it was, yesterday. This anniversary has meant so much to me, Brian. We weren’t supposed to last, remember? But we have! I’ve been clean and sober for five years tomorrow and Jacoby and I have been married 10 years yesterday. There’s hard evidence that I said to go ahead and trade, but I know darned good and well that I didn’t.”

“Then who texted Coby with the okay?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t me. With the weather coming, I knew we’d get stranded at work and I figured that would make celebrating easier. Instead, we ended up fucking getting called into work! Then, he thinks he cram two days into one! One of the people we visit isn’t even available today, so I’m seeing him on Saturday for lunch. He’ll have to eat when I get my lunch break, but at least I’ll see him. I’m just so pissed at him for trading when he knew! He knew this was going to happen!”

“Jimmy, he said he had your blessing. He even forwarded the messages to me. Is it possible you just misunderstood the message?”

“No,” I insisted, pounding my fist into the bed. “Brian, I’m not dumb. I know what he meant: the weekend after our anniversary is this one, which I have to work. The weekend following is next weekend when I’m off. I know what he meant and I swear to God I didn’t tell him to trade.”

“Okay,” Brian said, and I took a deep breath. “Why are you so upset, then? I know you’re upset because he traded, but what’s so bad about rescheduling? Why can’t you guys do it in one day?”

“No one understands,” I whispered. “No one gets it, Brian. It’s important to me to have those two days. 10 years ago, something went right in my life for once. I ran away from my problems in California 12 years ago. I almost killed myself here in Iowa, and if it hadn’t been for Jacoby, I wouldn’t be here. Once we started our relationship, I started to change. I got back with my family, I got clean and sober, even if it did take four tries, and I got a life. I got a passion in flight training and paramedic work. So when we spend two days celebrating, that means the world to me. Day one, we go visit the place Jacoby found me, we visit Dr. Mathias, my doctor the entire time I was in the hospital. We visit the spot of our first date, the place he proposed to me, then we have a meal out at a nice restaurant. Sometimes, we eat in, but usually, it’s out. Then, we have sex for a long time.

“Day two, we recover from the sex, and spend the day together. We might be home watching a movie, or we might just hang out in the hotel until early afternoon. Then, we check out, and we go shopping, even if it’s just window-shopping. Once we get home, Jacoby makes me a favorite dish for supper and we spend the evening in each other’s company, watching movies or playing games, whatever we feel like doing. That’s why it means so much to me, Brian, and no one gets it.”

Brian was quiet and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he see now why it’s so important to me?

“I’m glad you explained it,” he said, and I heard shuffling noises as he shifted the phone. “Have you told this to Coby?”

“I didn’t think I had to,” I admitted. “I figured he understood.”

“Maybe you just need to explain to him why you’re so upset,” Brian said. “Maybe he doesn’t understand why the two day celebration means so much to you.”

“Would Michelle have to explain it to you?” I asked, hoping the answer was no and my husband was really just being a jerk.

“Well, if we had something going like that, and in past years a change was no problem, then yes,” Brian said, and I sighed. “Some people just don’t realize things the way you do.”

“But after 10 years, he ought to know this,” I said, and I felt myself calming down. The lock on the door clicked and I saw Jacoby coming back. “But I can try.”

“Call me later and let me know how it went,” Brian said, and I thought he was smiling as he hung up.

“Who was that?” Coby asked, sitting in the black leather office chair across from the bed. He leaned back, putting his socken feet up on the bed. I looked over and saw his black work boots by the door.

“Like you don’t know,” I responded, sullenly. “You put him up to it.”

“I didn’t put Brian up to anything,” he defended himself. “I just called him for advice, since he’s been your friend for so long. He said he’d call and talk to you and I said that was fine with me.”

I was quiet for a moment, wondering if I should try what Brian had suggested. Finally, I sat up, looking at Coby. I couldn’t tell how he was feeling, but if I had to guess, I’d say under the tough outer shell, he was sad.

“Brian suggested that I try to explain why I’m so hurt,” I said, and Coby nodded. I took a deep breath, hoping there would be no more tearful breakdowns. That had been embarrassing, and I didn't need a repeat. “Alright, then, I’ll try.”

I sat up a bit more, then leaned forward, folding my legs underneath me. I licked my dry lips, and then I told Coby everything I had told Brian. I didn’t look at his face, for fear he was going to get angry and this would lead to divorce. I knew it was an irrational fear, but it was my fear. When I was done, silence hung heavy and thick in the air. I finally chanced a look at Coby’s face and I saw sadness written there.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” he asked, quietly, leaning forward. His elbows rested on his thighs and he folded his hands in front of him. I unfolded my legs and stretched out. “Would it have hurt you to tell me this?”

“I thought you knew,” I said, hanging my head. “I thought, after 10 years of doing the celebration the same, you got it.”

“I didn’t, though. Your OCD is so unpredictable, and I do my best not to flare it up, but sometimes, change needs to happen. You’re doing so much better of late, and I didn’t get why this triggered it. I didn’t realize that the two days meant so much to you.”

“Well, it does,” I said, sounding more defensive than I’d intended. “It means the world to me. It’s not just an OCD thing, which I don’t think you are capable of understanding.”

“Jimmy, it’s not that. It’s just that so much of your life is ruled by this OCD, and I don’t know how to help you,” Jacoby confessed, and I felt the tension ease a bit. “You don’t see your counselor anymore, and even she couldn’t help the OCD. I just figure anything these days is related.”

“Well, some things aren’t. Some things are just important to me. Taking two days to celebrate is important to me,” I explained, sighing. “I honestly don’t remember sending that text, Cobs. I would not have said to trade, and I thought you understood what this meant to me.”

“I know it was special to you, and it’s special to me. But I don’t care when we celebrate, as long as we celebrate. I didn’t realize that you needed those two days. I’m sorry about the trade, but he was desperate and you said it was fine, so I traded.”

“You didn’t think it was odd that I said it was okay to trade?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “The weather has interfered before and you’ve been fine. I realize that we’ve usually been at home and able to get out in a day or two and do our sightseeing, but you were fine. Therefore, I didn’t put much thought into it when you said to go ahead.”

I sighed, feeling defeated. He seemed as though he was starting to understand, but there was still a long way to go, apparently. I no longer felt like celebrating, that much was true, and I told him as much.

“Jimmy, it’s our 10th,” he protested, and I knew he was hurt now. “We have to celebrate.”

“If we can celebrate right, I might come around to the idea, but otherwise, don’t get your hopes up,” I told him, standing. I needed a drink of water. “I’m sorry, but being stranded at work, working, and now fighting has just ruined it for me. It still means a lot to me, but it’s ruined.”

I took a dollar bill from my wallet and reached for the door handle. Before I could get it open, Jacoby had pulled me back, and I was looking into his eyes. I didn’t know what he was doing, his face was blank. His grip on my arm was getting tighter and I was actually getting scared.

“Look,” he said, his voice low, almost menacing. “We won’t celebrate today, since there’s not much of the day left. But we are not cancelling, got me?”

I recovered and jerked my arm back, glaring at him. I did not appreciate being manhandled and threatened.

“If you’re going to threaten me, you can rethink a lot of things, Jacoby. If I come around to the idea of celebrating, I’ll let you know.”

I went to leave, but my arm was seized again. I was about to shout at him, mostly because it hurt, when his lips crashed onto mine. I returned the kiss, and when we broke apart, I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling his arms around me. I pulled back after a couple of minutes and looked at my husband.

“There have been a lot of hurt feelings the last day or so,” he said, and I nodded, knowing that it was mostly my feelings that had been hurt. “But I want to make it up to you. You pick the two days and I’ll do my best to make it work. We’ll go over my schedule when we get home, and we’ll celebrate like we’re supposed to.”

“But our weeks are off because of your trade,” I pointed out.

“We’ll make it work, I promise,” he said, as his phone rang. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, as I finally got out the door. I fed my money into the machine, thinking how overpriced this bottle of water was going to be. Once the cold bottle was in my hand, I leaned against the machine and took a long drink. I did love him, despite everything that had happened in the last day. I wasn’t over the hurt, but I wasn’t quite as angry. I knew that he would make it up to me, no matter what.

First, however, I had to get through the weekend. I’m normally pumped for my weekend of flying, but this time, knowing that Jacoby wouldn’t be working and I’d probably end up staying in Omaha alone, I wasn’t as excited. I could, of course, go home between shifts, but if the wind kicked up, I’d be stranded, and I needed my hours. With a sigh, I pushed off the machine and returned to our room, keying in and seeing Jacoby back at the desk.

“I thought you were going home,” I said, knowing that some hurt still showed in my tone.

“Nah. I decided to stay, at least tonight. The roads are still mostly covered, according to the road conditions map,” he said, holding up his phone. “I figure I’ll stay until they’re in better shape, at least.” He turned to look at me, as I stood in the doorway. “Unless you want me to go home.”

“You can stay,” I said, making a split second decision. “At least stay until it’s safe to get home. I don’t expect you to spend the entire weekend. I’ll probably head back to sleep at work after tonight anyway. This place isn’t cheap.”

“I should have good luck tomorrow,” he said, putting his phone down. “So I’ll stay tonight and we’ll discuss things tomorrow. But it would be easier to stay at work for you.”

“I think so,” I said, sitting on the bed. Jacoby joined me, and we stay quiet for a bit. Finally, I looked at the clock on the bedside stand. “It’s almost supper time. Where do you want to eat?”

“Why don’t we order a pizza and get some movies?” he suggested. “We’ll just relax tonight and you’ll be ready to fly tomorrow?”

“Works for me,” I said, putting my water aside. I hugged my husband and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

6

I think this is the worst weekend of my life. I really do. I spent Thursday night with Jacoby in the hotel, and then I returned to work on Friday morning at 0600. I didn’t fly at all Friday, since there was no need for the helicopter. I spent most of Friday working in ER, helping taking patients to floors and riding along on ambulance calls. You’d be surprised how many times an ambulance is needed in Omaha.

Friday night I slept at work. Jacoby sent me a text to say he’d made it home and that the interstate was okay but not great. Home had no power, but the generator had been turned on so we didn’t lose any food. I was grateful for that, since getting groceries can be a struggle. We had good neighbors and I knew someone would go turn the generator on for us. I slept a little better that night, just knowing he was safe. But it wasn’t the same as him being here and I didn’t feel right knowing our anniversary had come and gone without a celebration.

Now, it’s Saturday and I have one day left of my weekend. It’s busy today, and I’m currently getting the chopper ready to go for a transfer. We have to pick up a patient in western Nebraska and bring them back here. We should be able to get there in back inside of an hour and a half if we can make good time. The sun is shining and the sky is clear and without wind for a change. As soon as the flight team is loaded, we’re off.

Flying is a release of sorts for me. I’m free up here, in the air. Sure I have a several ton helicopter at my control, but I can still look around while I fly. There’s a lot of beauty from up above, and I like to take it in when I can. The chopper is meant for speed and efficiency, and it moves fast, even with all of the equipment on board. Today, we’re picking up a middle aged woman with meningitis. I wasn’t clear why the local hospital couldn’t take her, since that’s something you don’t always need a big hospital for, but here we are anyway.

While flying, I thought about the last few days. We’ve had fights, of course, but not like this or on this subject. I was starting to wonder if I needed to return to therapy. My OCD keeps getting in the way of things in my life, and therapy might help. Then again, therapy hadn’t helped previously, so why bother with the expense? I also pondered that text message that I clearly sent. I have no memory of doing so, yet I’m the only one who could’ve sent it. I know, however, that I would not have told Jacoby to trade knowing what I knew: there was bad weather coming. This has been a tough winter and we should’ve known better than to plan something this important the way we did. Either way, though, I’m the only one who could’ve sent that text, even if I have no memory of it.

I listened to the radio chatter that indicated that we were getting close to the hospital. As soon as the helipad came into view, I understood: this hospital was tiny and clearly in the middle of nowhere. Western Nebraska isn’t very populated, outside of large cities scattered here and there. This hospital was very, very rural, and probably had 10 beds if they were lucky. No wonder they had to send this one out.

I landed, going through my checklists while the flight staff went in for the patient. Turn around should be less than five minutes, so there was no reason for me to go with them this time. By the time I was done, the patient, in full isolation mode to protect us, was loaded and it was time to fly back. As predicted, total flight time was an hour and a half, and I got see some very pretty snow up here. Snow is a pain and by January, we’re sick of it, but sometimes, you catch a glimpse of its beauty.

While the flight staff took the patient in, I finished my duties as pilot. The chopper had to be scrubbed, even though the patient was in isolation gear, and I had get it ready in case we went out again today. We covered a wide area, helping out the rural hospitals in Nebraska and Iowa, making sure their sickest patients got to the big city hospital for help.

When that was done, I went back inside, checking in and logging my time. I get paid in two ways: time spent on the ground and time spent in the air. The more I’m in the air, the bigger my checks will be. Therefore, I wanted to spend as much time as possible in the air.

“Jimmy, you good for an ambulance call?” the dayshift supervisor, Erin, asked. Her brown eyes were questioning as she looked at me and I nodded. “Good. It’s over on Dodge, at the Walgreens there. 34 year old, chest pain, diaphoretic, pain traveling down left arm. Radio when you’re close, we’re going with an acute MI alert on this one.”

I nodded and ran for the departing unit. I hopped in the back, making sure our jump bags were ready. 34 year olds with these symptoms are usually ripe for massive heart attacks. Or, they just had something disagreeable for breakfast or lunch. I’ve brought a lot of young ones in with chest pain only to have a couple of Tums clear things right up.

The ride was short, since we weren’t that far away. I hopped out, helping get the stretcher out while my partner brought our supplies. We were directed inside to the one of the aisles, and I saw our patient lying on the floor. It was a thin man, with short hair and an extremely pale complexion. My partner started to radio the ER with what we were doing and how long until we’d be back. I started an IV, put a nitro under his tongue to relieve the chest pain and hooked up the ECG. I did not like what I saw and as soon as possible, we were out the door and back to the ambulance. While my partner worked, I comforted and read out monitor readings. By the time we got back to Creighton, a team of heart care specialists was waiting for us. We turned our patient over with a brief report and then went to log our time and supplies.

“You and Coby okay?” Robin Malford, the driver for today’s run asked. I was in the back with Mark Wallerford, my partner on this run.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, as I took inventory of IV cannulas. We were getting low in this rig.

“Just wondering. I talked to him Friday morning as he was getting breakfast before heading home and he mentioned you had an argument,” she said, shrugging. “None of my business, just hoping it got resolved.”

“More or less,” I said, unwilling to divulge everything. I wasn’t as close with these two as I was with others and I didn’t need our dirty laundry to get aired out at work. “Couples fight now and then.”

“As long as it’s resolved, that’s what counts,” Mark said, and it was clear from his tone that he had the last word. I shot him a grateful look, knowing that Robin had a big mouth. “Did Coby make it home?”

“Yeah, he did,” I said, nodding. “He said the interstate wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. He had to drop his blade on our gravel, though, or he’d have never made it. There were a lot of cars in the ditch, and you had to go slow, but he made it.”

“It’ll be better tomorrow or Monday, whenever you decide to go.”

“I’ll probably wait until Monday. I don’t like going in the dark if I don’t have to. I have a snow bed until Monday night, so might as well use it,” I said, mentally groaning at the thought of two more nights stuck sleeping at work. I hate winter.

“You know, we’ve got a spare room,” Mark suggested and I glanced over at him. “My wife’s a great cook and the kids love you to death. Why not stay with us rather than here at work? You’ll sleep better and we can carpool to work tomorrow. You can come with me Monday morning and get your truck out and be on your way.”

“That sounds great,” I said, nodding. “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem.”

***

I have to admit that the spare room at Mark’s was so much better than the snow bed. It turns out that Mark invited five of us from ER and he’s got a full house. The open snow beds filled quickly, but we were the lucky ones. His wife made three pans of lasagna and there wasn’t much left. She filled us to the brim with lasagna, garlic toast and homemade cake and ice cream. I don’t think I need to eat for a week. She had two more pans of lasagna in reserve, and dished up plenty of leftovers for people to take to work the next day. Everyone was to come back and spend one more night before trying to get home and no one complained.

I was glad, though, when Monday morning came. We all rode back into work with Mark, who had brought shovels to help us all dig out. The grounds staff had done a great job of getting the parking lots done and we had very few problems getting our vehicles out. I’d gotten my truck out for the time we were in the hotel, but since it sat at work Friday and Saturday, it had a chance to get snowed in again thanks to the staff clearing the lot. I was one of three that were heading north on the interstate, and we all agreed to keep close if the roads were bad. It turned out we needn’t have worried, however: the interstate was crystal clear and we headed north at normal speeds with no concerns. The trip that took Coby nearly an hour and a half on Friday took me the normal half hour today. I exited at Mondamin and headed for our gravel. I was ready to drop my blade, but the road was reasonably clear and I got home with no problems.

“Coby?” I called, entering the house. I stamped the snow off my boots, then took them off and put them on the vent behind the door to dry. His truck was in the garage, even though I thought he had to work today. I went up the back stairs and into the kitchen, the laminate flooring cold under my sock-covered feet. “Cobs?”

I saw a note on the fridge, then, and nodded. He’d gotten a ride with another paramedic who lived out our way. With a sigh, I listened to how quiet the house was. It was warm inside, and I was thankful for the propane heat. The generator had been turned off, so I tried a light switch, glad when it worked. Usually, we’re the last ones to get our lights back, so kudos to whoever got us back faster.

I went upstairs, taking my duffel and dumping out the dirty clothes and uniforms. I put them in the laundry basket, then put a fresh change of clothing in the duffel. I’d keep that in the truck for the next time I had to work, which would be on Thursday.

Ma and Pa, our two black cats, came up to greet me, glad to see their daddy home at last. I checked their food and water, then gave them treats. Once they’d eaten them, I went to get their brush, taking Ma first and then Pa. That seemed to appease them and it gave me a chance to relax as well. Sunday had been a little trying at work, since we’d had two codes in the ER and one person died. I was also still a little sore about our anniversary. I was having lunch this coming Saturday with Dr. Mathias, but didn’t think Coby would be able to join us.

I put thoughts of our ruined anniversary from my mind as I stood up and collected the cat fur, dumping it in the living room trash. I went about collecting the trash from around the house, admiring the old farmhouse we’d fixed up over the years. It had taken several years and several thousand dollars, but it was done. We had insulated walls throughout the house, the attic was insulated, the floors were new and the kitchen, the final part of the massive remodel, had been done over the summer. All new appliances and all new cabinets complimented the laminate flooring we’d put throughout the first floor.

Once that was done, I put it all outside the back door, then realized that the walk needed another pass with the shovel. I bundled up, quickly scooped it, then returned inside. There was laundry to do and supper to plan. I briefly wondered how Jacoby’s day was going, but he’d tell me when he got home tonight. I knew he’d want to resolve our argument about the celebration of our anniversary, but I was done talking; if we could find two days in a row to celebrate, I’d consider it, but by then, it will be a week or two since the day and I wasn’t going to be too willing. For me, it had been ruined by our fight and who wants to celebrate after that?

As I was standing in front of the deep freeze in the basement, pondering supper, my phone buzzed. I looked at the caller I.D., flipping it open to greet my father.

“Hey dad,” I said, finally grabbing a rump roast. “What’s up?”

“Coby’s mom called your mom,” he said, and Jimmy shrugged. That wasn’t all that unusual. “Apparently you guys have decided to stay in Iowa.”

Jimmy paused, feeling a new anger at his husband. They weren’t going to announce it until the end of January!

“Ugh!” he said, shaking his head as he walked back upstairs. “We’ve decided to stay here, but we weren’t going to announce it until the end of January, and we were going to call our families at the same time, so this wouldn’t happen. That jerk.”

“Well, I’ll let you hash it out with him, but your mom’s pretty upset.”

“They’re not going to guilt trip us into coming home,” I said, sternly. I got the crock-pot down, then put some water on the roast, added potatoes, onions and carrots, then put it on low. It would cook for a good eight hours. “We like it here, dad. We’ve got jobs, friends, and lives here. I’m not leaving the farm, not after we just finished paying for the kitchen remodel. We’ve put a lot into our lives here, and we’re staying. I’m sorry that mom’s upset, but it’s our choice. I’m grateful that we were reunited and we’re planning to fly home in July, but we’re not leaving Iowa.”

There was a moment of silence from dad and I wondered if I’d said too much.

“For what it’s worth, I’m on your side,” dad said, quietly. “But your mom is upset about it. She’ll come around, she always does.”

“I hope so,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Tell her we’ll try to make it home in July.”

“Will do. See you later.”

I said goodbye and hung up, sighing. I looked down at the cats, who were giving me a curious look.

“Be thankful you haven’t got parents,” I said, and walked into the living room to check my email.

6

I think this is the worst weekend of my life. I really do. I spent Thursday night with Jacoby in the hotel, and then I returned to work on Friday morning at 0600. I didn’t fly at all Friday, since there was no need for the helicopter. I spent most of Friday working in ER, helping taking patients to floors and riding along on ambulance calls. You’d be surprised how many times an ambulance is needed in Omaha.

Friday night I slept at work. Jacoby sent me a text to say he’d made it home and that the interstate was okay but not great. Home had no power, but the generator had been turned on so we didn’t lose any food. I was grateful for that, since getting groceries can be a struggle. We had good neighbors and I knew someone would go turn the generator on for us. I slept a little better that night, just knowing he was safe. But it wasn’t the same as him being here and I didn’t feel right knowing our anniversary had come and gone without a celebration.

Now, it’s Saturday and I have one day left of my weekend. It’s busy today, and I’m currently getting the chopper ready to go for a transfer. We have to pick up a patient in western Nebraska and bring them back here. We should be able to get there in back inside of an hour and a half if we can make good time. The sun is shining and the sky is clear and without wind for a change. As soon as the flight team is loaded, we’re off.

Flying is a release of sorts for me. I’m free up here, in the air. Sure I have a several ton helicopter at my control, but I can still look around while I fly. There’s a lot of beauty from up above, and I like to take it in when I can. The chopper is meant for speed and efficiency, and it moves fast, even with all of the equipment on board. Today, we’re picking up a middle aged woman with meningitis. I wasn’t clear why the local hospital couldn’t take her, since that’s something you don’t always need a big hospital for, but here we are anyway.

While flying, I thought about the last few days. We’ve had fights, of course, but not like this or on this subject. I was starting to wonder if I needed to return to therapy. My OCD keeps getting in the way of things in my life, and therapy might help. Then again, therapy hadn’t helped previously, so why bother with the expense? I also pondered that text message that I clearly sent. I have no memory of doing so, yet I’m the only one who could’ve sent it. I know, however, that I would not have told Jacoby to trade knowing what I knew: there was bad weather coming. This has been a tough winter and we should’ve known better than to plan something this important the way we did. Either way, though, I’m the only one who could’ve sent that text, even if I have no memory of it.

I listened to the radio chatter that indicated that we were getting close to the hospital. As soon as the helipad came into view, I understood: this hospital was tiny and clearly in the middle of nowhere. Western Nebraska isn’t very populated, outside of large cities scattered here and there. This hospital was very, very rural, and probably had 10 beds if they were lucky. No wonder they had to send this one out.

I landed, going through my checklists while the flight staff went in for the patient. Turn around should be less than five minutes, so there was no reason for me to go with them this time. By the time I was done, the patient, in full isolation mode to protect us, was loaded and it was time to fly back. As predicted, total flight time was an hour and a half, and I got see some very pretty snow up here. Snow is a pain and by January, we’re sick of it, but sometimes, you catch a glimpse of its beauty.

While the flight staff took the patient in, I finished my duties as pilot. The chopper had to be scrubbed, even though the patient was in isolation gear, and I had get it ready in case we went out again today. We covered a wide area, helping out the rural hospitals in Nebraska and Iowa, making sure their sickest patients got to the big city hospital for help.

When that was done, I went back inside, checking in and logging my time. I get paid in two ways: time spent on the ground and time spent in the air. The more I’m in the air, the bigger my checks will be. Therefore, I wanted to spend as much time as possible in the air.

“Jimmy, you good for an ambulance call?” the dayshift supervisor, Erin, asked. Her brown eyes were questioning as she looked at me and I nodded. “Good. It’s over on Dodge, at the Walgreens there. 34 year old, chest pain, diaphoretic, pain traveling down left arm. Radio when you’re close, we’re going with an acute MI alert on this one.”

I nodded and ran for the departing unit. I hopped in the back, making sure our jump bags were ready. 34 year olds with these symptoms are usually ripe for massive heart attacks. Or, they just had something disagreeable for breakfast or lunch. I’ve brought a lot of young ones in with chest pain only to have a couple of Tums clear things right up.

The ride was short, since we weren’t that far away. I hopped out, helping get the stretcher out while my partner brought our supplies. We were directed inside to the one of the aisles, and I saw our patient lying on the floor. It was a thin man, with short hair and an extremely pale complexion. My partner started to radio the ER with what we were doing and how long until we’d be back. I started an IV, put a nitro under his tongue to relieve the chest pain and hooked up the ECG. I did not like what I saw and as soon as possible, we were out the door and back to the ambulance. While my partner worked, I comforted and read out monitor readings. By the time we got back to Creighton, a team of heart care specialists was waiting for us. We turned our patient over with a brief report and then went to log our time and supplies.

“You and Coby okay?” Robin Malford, the driver for today’s run asked. I was in the back with Mark Wallerford, my partner on this run.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, as I took inventory of IV cannulas. We were getting low in this rig.

“Just wondering. I talked to him Friday morning as he was getting breakfast before heading home and he mentioned you had an argument,” she said, shrugging. “None of my business, just hoping it got resolved.”

“More or less,” I said, unwilling to divulge everything. I wasn’t as close with these two as I was with others and I didn’t need our dirty laundry to get aired out at work. “Couples fight now and then.”

“As long as it’s resolved, that’s what counts,” Mark said, and it was clear from his tone that he had the last word. I shot him a grateful look, knowing that Robin had a big mouth. “Did Coby make it home?”

“Yeah, he did,” I said, nodding. “He said the interstate wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. He had to drop his blade on our gravel, though, or he’d have never made it. There were a lot of cars in the ditch, and you had to go slow, but he made it.”

“It’ll be better tomorrow or Monday, whenever you decide to go.”

“I’ll probably wait until Monday. I don’t like going in the dark if I don’t have to. I have a snow bed until Monday night, so might as well use it,” I said, mentally groaning at the thought of two more nights stuck sleeping at work. I hate winter.

“You know, we’ve got a spare room,” Mark suggested and I glanced over at him. “My wife’s a great cook and the kids love you to death. Why not stay with us rather than here at work? You’ll sleep better and we can carpool to work tomorrow. You can come with me Monday morning and get your truck out and be on your way.”

“That sounds great,” I said, nodding. “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem.”

***

I have to admit that the spare room at Mark’s was so much better than the snow bed. It turns out that Mark invited five of us from ER and he’s got a full house. The open snow beds filled quickly, but we were the lucky ones. His wife made three pans of lasagna and there wasn’t much left. She filled us to the brim with lasagna, garlic toast and homemade cake and ice cream. I don’t think I need to eat for a week. She had two more pans of lasagna in reserve, and dished up plenty of leftovers for people to take to work the next day. Everyone was to come back and spend one more night before trying to get home and no one complained.

I was glad, though, when Monday morning came. We all rode back into work with Mark, who had brought shovels to help us all dig out. The grounds staff had done a great job of getting the parking lots done and we had very few problems getting our vehicles out. I’d gotten my truck out for the time we were in the hotel, but since it sat at work Friday and Saturday, it had a chance to get snowed in again thanks to the staff clearing the lot. I was one of three that were heading north on the interstate, and we all agreed to keep close if the roads were bad. It turned out we needn’t have worried, however: the interstate was crystal clear and we headed north at normal speeds with no concerns. The trip that took Coby nearly an hour and a half on Friday took me the normal half hour today. I exited at Mondamin and headed for our gravel. I was ready to drop my blade, but the road was reasonably clear and I got home with no problems.

“Coby?” I called, entering the house. I stamped the snow off my boots, then took them off and put them on the vent behind the door to dry. His truck was in the garage, even though I thought he had to work today. I went up the back stairs and into the kitchen, the laminate flooring cold under my sock-covered feet. “Cobs?”

I saw a note on the fridge, then, and nodded. He’d gotten a ride with another paramedic who lived out our way. With a sigh, I listened to how quiet the house was. It was warm inside, and I was thankful for the propane heat. The generator had been turned off, so I tried a light switch, glad when it worked. Usually, we’re the last ones to get our lights back, so kudos to whoever got us back faster.

I went upstairs, taking my duffel and dumping out the dirty clothes and uniforms. I put them in the laundry basket, then put a fresh change of clothing in the duffel. I’d keep that in the truck for the next time I had to work, which would be on Thursday.

Ma and Pa, our two black cats, came up to greet me, glad to see their daddy home at last. I checked their food and water, then gave them treats. Once they’d eaten them, I went to get their brush, taking Ma first and then Pa. That seemed to appease them and it gave me a chance to relax as well. Sunday had been a little trying at work, since we’d had two codes in the ER and one person died. I was also still a little sore about our anniversary. I was having lunch this coming Saturday with Dr. Mathias, but didn’t think Coby would be able to join us.

I put thoughts of our ruined anniversary from my mind as I stood up and collected the cat fur, dumping it in the living room trash. I went about collecting the trash from around the house, admiring the old farmhouse we’d fixed up over the years. It had taken several years and several thousand dollars, but it was done. We had insulated walls throughout the house, the attic was insulated, the floors were new and the kitchen, the final part of the massive remodel, had been done over the summer. All new appliances and all new cabinets complimented the laminate flooring we’d put throughout the first floor.

Once that was done, I put it all outside the back door, then realized that the walk needed another pass with the shovel. I bundled up, quickly scooped it, then returned inside. There was laundry to do and supper to plan. I briefly wondered how Jacoby’s day was going, but he’d tell me when he got home tonight. I knew he’d want to resolve our argument about the celebration of our anniversary, but I was done talking; if we could find two days in a row to celebrate, I’d consider it, but by then, it will be a week or two since the day and I wasn’t going to be too willing. For me, it had been ruined by our fight and who wants to celebrate after that?

As I was standing in front of the deep freeze in the basement, pondering supper, my phone buzzed. I looked at the caller I.D., flipping it open to greet my father.

“Hey dad,” I said, finally grabbing a rump roast. “What’s up?”

“Coby’s mom called your mom,” he said, and Jimmy shrugged. That wasn’t all that unusual. “Apparently you guys have decided to stay in Iowa.”

Jimmy paused, feeling a new anger at his husband. They weren’t going to announce it until the end of January!

“Ugh!” he said, shaking his head as he walked back upstairs. “We’ve decided to stay here, but we weren’t going to announce it until the end of January, and we were going to call our families at the same time, so this wouldn’t happen. That jerk.”

“Well, I’ll let you hash it out with him, but your mom’s pretty upset.”

“They’re not going to guilt trip us into coming home,” I said, sternly. I got the crock-pot down, then put some water on the roast, added potatoes, onions and carrots, then put it on low. It would cook for a good eight hours. “We like it here, dad. We’ve got jobs, friends, and lives here. I’m not leaving the farm, not after we just finished paying for the kitchen remodel. We’ve put a lot into our lives here, and we’re staying. I’m sorry that mom’s upset, but it’s our choice. I’m grateful that we were reunited and we’re planning to fly home in July, but we’re not leaving Iowa.”

There was a moment of silence from dad and I wondered if I’d said too much.

“For what it’s worth, I’m on your side,” dad said, quietly. “But your mom is upset about it. She’ll come around, she always does.”

“I hope so,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Tell her we’ll try to make it home in July.”

“Will do. See you later.”

I said goodbye and hung up, sighing. I looked down at the cats, who were giving me a curious look.

“Be thankful you haven’t got parents,” I said, and walked into the living room to check my email.

7

After a busy day, Hollister and I were finally able to take a break. We logged the time on our final run, finished checking the rig back in, then headed for the cafeteria. Mondays are always busy in the ER, and it felt like the morning just flew by.

“Did you bring your lunch, Coby?” Hollister asked, as we entered the cafeteria.

“Nope, I’m eating here today,” I told her, grabbing a tray. She followed suit and we picked out our lunch. “I hitched a ride with Anthony, since he lives out by us. It was just easier today.”

“Bet Jim got home and was confused,” she said and I frowned for a moment, thinking about Jim.

“Something wrong?”

“Well, we had a big fight on Thursday,” I said. I headed for the pizza, then made a loop around too the register. “His OCD kicked into overdrive because of our rescheduled anniversary plans and a miscommunication about me switching weekends with Devon. Now he wants to cancel our anniversary celebration. I told him he could pick any two days we had off and we’d celebrate, but I don’t think he’s going to do it.”

“Isn’t there anything to be done about his OCD? It’s starting to take over his life,” Hollister pointed out. We paid for our food, then headed out for a table. “I know he’s had therapy before and it didn’t work, but things might be different now.”

“I’ve suggested it, but he’s so against it that we just end up arguing,” I sighed, taking a bit of my pizza. It wasn’t the best they’ve ever had down here, but it was edible. “There are programs now that could help him, but he won’t do that. We have two cats, and that was supposed to help keep him calm and focused and while that works at home, we can’t take them to work with us and such. I want him to get into a program for severe OCD, but he just can’t do it. I think it’s the disruption of his schedule that gets to him every time.”

“Hrm. I wish I could help you, Cobs,” she said, and I nodded. Sadly, I think Jimmy and I are on our own with this one. “I’m sure you’ll find the solution.”

“I hope so, because this gets tiresome. I said for better or for worse, but sometimes, the worse gets to be too much.”

“Just think how much worse it could be. He got through drug and alcohol addiction, hon, so that’s something you don't have to deal with,” she pointed out and I nodded. She did have a point there. “But the OCD is tough. I’ve worked with Jimmy in the field and he’s got to do things a certain way or he gets very flustered. Perhaps telling him how much easier work will be if he seeks treatment will get him going. He’s getting worse, Coby, and you want to kick it before it really does rule his life.”

“Easier said than done with Jimmy, though,” I said, knowing that she was right. “I’ve been looking into solutions, and I think I might start at home. There’s a workbook for OCD that we could do together and if it works, that would be great. I want to start small with him, because if we make big changes, his world crumbles. But we have to do something.”

“I’d say get the workbook and go from there. It might be just what he needs.”

I nodded, as I finished eating. Hollister finished up, taking our trays, then offering to get pop. I handed off my badge and told her to grab me two Pepsis. My phone buzzed while she was gone and I saw a text from Jimmy. I flipped open my phone and hit read.

We’re having a talk tonight. Dad called, and I’m pissed at you!

Whatever. See you tonight. I responded. I wasn’t in the mood for him right now.

I flipped the phone shut, knowing I’d divulged our decision to stay in Iowa before the planned deadline. However, I felt that we might as well tell our families, since we had our minds made up. I know he wanted to wait and call our mothers at the same time, but I didn’t think mom would talk to Barb so soon. There are days I wish we’d never gotten married, and today is one of them. Make that the last week!

“Ready to head back?” Hollister asked, handing me my pops.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, nodding. It was two and my shift ended at six. I wasn’t staying over, either.

“What’s wrong now?” she asked, as we walked to the staff elevators to return to the ED.

I explained the text and what I’d done. She patted me on the back and tried to be encouraging, but it wasn’t helping. Jimmy and I had never fought this much in our entire relationship and I wanted it to stop.

***

That night, I made my way up the driveway, waving at Anthony as he drove off. I stopped to get the mail before heading into the garage. Jimmy’s truck was in the garage and the lights inside were on, so I knew he was home. Everything was shoveled, so he’d had a busy afternoon. The trash bins were set out as well, so he’d done some cleaning. When he was angry like this, he turned to cleaning and I admit it was nice to come home to a clean house.

I stepped onto the porch and paused. I didn’t want to go in, knowing how angry he was going to be. When three bags of trash appeared outside the house, it was bad. But I couldn’t stand out here all night without freezing to death, so I went inside. I entered the back door, stamped my boots off, then placed them over the heater vent to dry. I went up the back steps and into the kitchen, where the crock-pot was going. It smelled good, and I smiled. He was trying to cook again and I think this time, it would be a success. I went upstairs and changed out of my work clothes, putting on black flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. It was warm in the house, so Jimmy must’ve been cold.

“Jim?” I called, looking in the upstairs office. He wasn’t there, and the basement had been dark. That put him somewhere on the main floor, so I went back down stairs. “Jimmy?”

I paused to listen, then heard a familiar hissing noise. I went into his first floor office, and there he was. He was in his desk chair, mask over his face, having a breathing treatment. I was concerned, since he’d been doing fine with his asthma and had it under good control. One inhaler in the morning and one pill at night kept him healthy.

“What happened?” I asked, as the treatment ended.

“I don’t know,” he said, putting everything away. He looked up at me, still breathing a little heavily. “I was taking the trash out and when I got back inside, I couldn’t breathe. I tried my rescue inhaler, but it didn’t take, so I got out the nebulizer.”

“Might have been the cold air,” I suggested, noting that he seemed to be feeling a little better. “I know that can trigger you and it’s pretty damn cold out.”

“That’s most likely it,” Jimmy agreed, as he stood. We moved out into the living room, and I waited for the fight to begin. “We need to talk.”

“I was waiting for that,” I admitted, sitting in my recliner. Jimmy sat on the couch across from me, and folded his hands. “I know what you want to talk about, too. I know you’re wondering why I did it. I did it because it was time to just tell them. I didn’t think I guess, that my mom and your mom would talk. I just thought that as long as we’d made our decision, we might as well talk.”

“But we had an agreement,” Jimmy protested, and I knew what was going to happen. Here came the OCD meltdown. “We agreed that we would call our families together and break it to them that way. Thanks to you, mom’s upset and when I called her earlier, she wouldn’t speak to me! Why did you change plans without speaking to me first?”

“Jimmy, I’ve had it!” I exploded, not sure where I was going with this. We were both on our feet and I was pissed. “You’re god damn OCD keeps getting in the way of everything we do! I’ve got the right to change my mind if I feel it’s the right thing to do! I decided to tell mom ahead of schedule because I couldn’t see keeping her in the dark any longer. It’s not my fault she blabbed to your mom, when I asked her not to. They talk, okay? It’s what mothers do when their children are married.

“I’m sick and tired of your fucking OCD ruling your life! You need to get help, got me? I don’t care what kind of help, but you need some fucking help! You can’t handle anything without me coddling you and I’m tired of it!”

“So what? You want to toss 10 years down the drain because I need a few things to be solid in my life? Some husband you turned out to be! First, our anniversary gets ruined then a simple discussion about you changing plans turns into how much you hate me. Nice once, Coby. Real nice.”

“I don’t hate you! I’m just frustrated that’s all! We had an opportunity to celebrate our anniversary on time but you had to throw a fit and turn it down. Your god damn OCD wouldn’t let you change things around just a little, so you sat and pouted in a hotel room, then worked the weekend. You pitched a fit because you said, and don’t argue, that I could trade weekends. I’ve told you my plan for re-scheduling but no, you want to cancel now. I can’t believe that the first most important anniversary of our marriage got ruined because of you!”

“Well I’m fucking sorry you feel that way!” Jimmy shouted at me, his hands balling into fists. He had an explosive temper and I knew I was treading a thin line here. “I suppose you’re sorry you rescued me, sat by me, helped me find my family and friends, married me and saw me through four stints in rehab? I suppose you’re sorry that I survived because of you! Are you sorry about the entire last 10 years? Because if so, you need to tell me right fucking now! I’m sorry if I’m a little fucked up, okay? But considering what I’ve been through, I’d say I’m doing pretty fucking good!”

There was a moment of silence as we stared at each other. I knew he was right; he was doing better for what he had been through. But I knew that we still had a lot to deal with.

“Jimmy, look, I just want you to get the help you need, okay? Your OCD really is taking over your life and I don’t want to lose you to it, okay?”

Jimmy was quiet and I wondered what he was going to say. I knew that fighting like this was hurting him; he hated it when we fought and we’d done enough fighting in the last few days for a year.

“It’s not controlling me!” he shouted, letting out a harsh cough. I didn’t want to set off his asthma, if it was already angry, but I think it was past time to worry about that. “I am perfectly fine! If you’d just communicate with me and try to understand why things are important to me, we wouldn’t be fighting right now!”

“I give up!” I shouted, tossing my hands in the air. “I quit, Jimmy! If we’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to get help. I can help you or you can get professional help, but either way, you’re getting help. I can’t let you keep going like this.”

“Whatever. If you want to quit, then fine. I quit, too,” he responded and left the room, his office door slamming shut moments later. I let out a scream of frustration and punched a pillow on the couch. He could be so infuriating sometimes!

I sat down in my recliner, reaching for my laptop, in need of releasing steam in an email to my mother. I heard the nebulizer kick in and momentarily felt bad, but it faded. I pounded on the keys as soon as my email loaded, getting everything off my chest about my husband. I didn’t want to lose him to OCD, but it was verging on possible. I knew mom would have good advice as I hit send on the lengthy, angry email.

She must’ve been home and on her email because her reply came quickly. She advised me to cool off for a few hours and then reexamine the situation. In the mean time, she might know how to get Jimmy some help. I forgot that she’d been through a similar situation a few years ago and had finally found a program that would help. She’d see if something similar was available up here and hopefully, Jimmy would agree to go.

I emailed her back to thank her and promised to take a few hours to cool down. I glanced at the clock, noting that it was seven and I was hungry. I knocked on Jimmy's office door and offered to make him a plate, but got no response. The door was locked when I tried to open it, so I gave up. I went to the kitchen, admiring once again our choice of cherry-stained cabinets and laminate flooring. We’d gone with the concrete counter tops and I was glad. We had no need for cooling racks and such, since we could set things directly on the surface hot or cold. Now, I put my plate down, wondering again why Jimmy had insisted on black square plates, and took the roast out of the crock pot. I put it on a white platter and cut it, then took a slotted spoon and spooned out the carrots, onions, and potatoes. I used some of the juice to make gravy, then sat down to eat at the table. I’d inherited this table from my grandmother and was amazed that the years had been so good to it.

While I ate, I contemplated Jimmy. I just didn’t understand what his problem was. Well, I knew what his problem was; I just didn’t see why he wouldn’t take care of it. He couldn’t possibly want to live his life like this, could he? With a sigh, I decided to keep it off my mind. He’d come around in a day or so, just like always.

8

Jacoby is a Class A idiot if he thinks I’m going to change, I thought, as I slammed and locked my office door. I know that my OCD is getting in the way of life, but I can’t change that. Things have to go a certain way for me or I can’t function. I can’t see changing, because it’s working for me. I sat down in my office chair, trying to breathe. Damn him! My asthma was fine until I went out and shoveled and took the trash out, then came in and dusted. I had just gotten it cleared up and we had to start fighting again. I just can’t get over him and how fucking selfish he is!

I started up my nebulizer again, hoping we could avoid a trip into Missouri Valley tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to haul my gasping ass into the ER, but it’s not something I enjoy, especially in the winter. But my main trigger is cold air and a secondary one is always fighting with my husband. Sometimes, like tonight, I wonder why we got married. He could’ve dropped my half-dead body in that ER and left. I could’ve gone on not knowing I had any family or friends and stayed in Omaha. There was no reason for him to save me or befriend me.

But he didn’t and part of me, albeit it a very small part tonight, feels bad for how I’ve been treating him. But I can’t help it. My world crumbles if things change. I know that I need help and I’ve been looking, but nothing will work with my schedule at the hospital and I can’t just quit my job to get therapy. I know that I’m okay at work, because they’re willing to work with me. Hell, if they had a program, I might try it. But I just can’t find any solutions that seem to fit me or what I want. I’m sorry if I’m not perfect, but it was his fucking choice to be my friend and eventual husband.

The nebulizer finished and I sighed. I don’t know why we’re having such a problem right now. I know that I could’ve acted a bit more mature in Omaha about things, but I’m sorry, I can’t cram two important days into one. I just can’t. I won’t, what’s more. I don’t know why he can’t understand how important our anniversary is to me. I know that I’ve been flexible in the past, but those weren’t our tenth. The first really, truly important anniversary of our marriage and it’s ruined. I know that he’s offered me to find two days off in a row and we’ll do it, but I’ve declined. We couldn’t celebrate it on schedule because of the weather and his poor planning, so I’d rather not celebrate at all.

The nebulizer helped some, at least, and I think I can take my nighttime meds on schedule and be fine. Jacoby doesn’t realize how messed up our schedules will be now, all thanks to his thoughtless switching of weekends. I don’t know who sent that okay from my phone but it sure as hell wasn’t me! Knowing what the weather was going to do and how important things were to me, I wasn’t about to let him switch weekends!

“You want me to make you a plate?” Jacoby asked through the door. I ignored him. I know, it’s childish, but I don’t care. “Well, fine. Pout all night.”

I will, I thought, as I leaned my elbows on the desk. My head rested in my hands and I sighed. I just don’t understand his problem! If something was important to him, I’d know! I’d understand and I’d do what I could to make sure that he got what he needed. I’d remember that little detail or two that made something important to him and it wouldn’t be flippantly forgotten about.

I opened my email and dashed off an angry email to my mother. I know she’s hurt right now, but sometimes a son needs his mother. I poured all of my frustrations and anger at my husband into my email, hoping that she’d respond. I know she’s not fond of me right now, but I really want to talk to her. I was surprised when my phone rang, and I saw it was my mother.

“Hey,” I said, and I knew that my emotions were shining through.

“Jimmy, I wanted to apologize for ignoring you earlier,” she said, and I nodded. “It’s just….I wanted my boy home, but I have to accept that he’s got his own life right now and he needs to be there. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, nodding.

“I got your email and I just finished reading it. What’s going on?” she asked and I’m embarrassed to say that I started to cry.

I spilled the whole story, from beginning to end and she never interrupted me. I ended with the most recent fight, then finally stopped, wiping my eyes and apologizing for crying like a little baby.

“Everyone cries, Jimmy,” she said, and I had to smile at how assuring she sounded. “I think you need to sit Jacoby down and talk to him. Don’t fight, don’t get offended so easily at things he says. But you’ve explained your side, let him explain his. He might have a good reason for the way he’s acting.”

“But he just admitted that he didn’t seem to care that it meant so much to me!” I said, coughing a bit. This could be a long night with my damn lungs. “I mean, I told him why it was important and he said he had no clue! 10 years we’ve been married and he didn’t know?”

“Your father and I went through something similar,” she said, as I coughed again. I knew she was resisting telling me that I would be able to breathe easier back home. “It was something that meant a lot to both of us, but more to me. Like Coby, he didn’t know how important that one celebration was. I explained my side to him and he then explained his side to me. It turns out that he saw the celebration as important but not very and I saw it as we do it now or never. Much like your anniversary. I know it’s been that way for you, but let Coby say his piece.”

“He said I needed help! I’m fine!” I insisted, and heard my mother sigh. “What?”

“Jimmy, have you considered that perhaps he’s right?” she suggested, quietly. Don’t tell me she’s taking sides!! “Perhaps you should look into some sort of treatment. I know that things have been hard for you, and perhaps it’s time to get treatment before things get worse.”

I was about to hang up on her when I stopped to consider her advice. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need help. But how was I supposed to go about getting it? I don’t think Creighton has a program for OCD, and I can’t just rearrange my life for treatment.

“Jimmy?”

“Well,” I said, biting my bottom lip. “I guess—I guess I thought I was fine, you know? I know that things are hard for me when there are changes and whatnot, but I thought I was fine otherwise. I know I have OCD, but it’s under control, I thought.”

“No, Jimmy it’s not,” she said, quietly. I knew that mom was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Jacoby has called me before for advice. I know that things are not okay. I don’t want to interfere in your marriage, but I think it’s time to seek treatment, honey.”

“You really feel that way? Because that’s what Jacoby yelled at me, too, and I didn’t want to believe him, you know? I think I’ve got it under good control, but he keeps yelling at me that I don’t. Is he right?”

“I think so, hon,” she admitted, and I could picture her nodding her head. “I’d start by seeing your doctor. It’s possible he or she can do something for you.”

I took a deep breath and agreed to see my doctor first. I still had a psychiatrist, but I didn’t see her, so I’d start with Dr. Mathias. I decided not to tell Jacoby, however; I wanted it to be a surprise.

***

The next day while Jacoby was at work, I called Dr. Mathias’s office and made an appointment. As it turned out, he was able to fit me in that afternoon at two, so I decided to take lunch in Omaha with some friends from work. We met downtown at noon and had an enjoyable meal. I told them what I planned to do, and asked them not tell Jacoby.

Finally, I made my way to the doctor’s office. My name was called, and I sat in the exam room, waiting patiently for my turn to be seen. The doctor was swift and he smiled when he saw me.

“Couldn’t wait for our lunch date?” he teased, and we laughed. He looked me over and smiled. “I’m guessing your health has not brought you here? You look quite healthy.”

“I’m feeling good, actually,” I said, nodding. “I, uhm, came here at the urging of my husband and mother.”

“Explain,” he said, gently. I knew we had time, because he always made plenty of time for me.

I outlined everything from the fight about our anniversary to the fight about my OCD and the revelation of our plans not to move home. He took notes while I talked and then turned to me when I was done.

“I’m glad to see you in here for this, Jimmy,” he said, and I tilted my head in askance. “I’ve thought for some time now that we might be wise to start treatment for OCD, but I wanted you to realize it first. You and I had both agreed over the years that you had OCD and that you needed to learn ways to control it. However, in the last few months to a year, I’ve observed you in the ED while you were working. I noticed that symptoms were beginning to escalate. But I knew that approaching you about it would only trigger an episode, so I chose to stay away.”

“What can we do?” I asked, trying to quell my shaking hands. I could feel an attack coming on, though I wasn’t sure why.

“I’m going to start with medication. In adults, that’s often the best course of action. I’ve been doing some research while waiting for you to come to me and I think I’ve found the solution. I’m going to start you on a very low dose of a medication called Paxil. It’s an antidepressant, but it’s also designed to assist with the suppression of OCD symptoms,” he said, writing on a prescription pad. “Now, I want you to take this once per day to start. It can take up to six weeks for it to take effect. Once six weeks have passed, we’ll reevaluate and see how things are going. Does Coby know about this?”

“No. I’ve decided against telling him. I want it to be a surprise, if I do well.”

Dr. Mathias smiled at me, handing me the paper. I knew that he was proud because I’d admitted that I needed help.

“Are we still on for lunch Saturday?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. I decided to discuss the anniversary problem with him. “I wonder what I should do about our anniversary celebration?”

“That’s up to you,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his right leg over his left. “Why don’t you want to celebrate?”

“Because it’s ruined for me,” I said, shrugging. “We had a chance to celebrate on time, since we were in town. But the roads were bad and, as EMTs, we knew better than to travel. No sense needing the services we provide, right? To me, that meant we couldn’t do it right. No matter what, we have to do it right. We have to do it in the same way we’ve always done it, no changes allowed. In past years, I made exceptions for the weather, because we could still do most of the normal stuff on the right day. If we got into Omaha to beat the storm, even better. But this year, we had to work, then we’d have had one day. You were gone, the roads were bad and I didn’t feel like celebrating after that.”

“Have you explained the importance of this day to Coby?”

“I have and he didn’t seem to get it. He’s insisting that I said he could trade weekends when I know darned good and well that I did not!” I said, feeling like a broken record. “I would not have said to change weekends knowing what the weather was going to do.”

“That can’t be changed now,” the doctor pointed out, and I knew he was right. “What’s done is done.”

“I know that,” I said, nodding. “I don’t know how I sent that message, though. You’d think I’d remember something like that.”

“Sometimes we type one thing and think we typed another,” the doctor explained. “I see this especially in people with mental illness. For now, we need to figure out how to salvage this relationship. Even though it might not seem like it now, you and Coby are still a perfect match.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I said, sighing. I coughed a bit and reminded myself to calm down before I had another long day like yesterday. “Sometimes, I wonder why he bothered with me, you know?”

“That’s something only he can answer,” the doctor said, glancing at his watch. He handed me the prescription paper then stood. “We’ll talk more on Saturday. For now, start this and give it about a month or so before you decide if it’s working or not, okay?”

“Alright. Thanks, doc,” I said, standing as well. “I appreciate the chance to talk.”

“I’m always here,” the doctor said, as we walked out.

I looked at the paper in my hand and sighed. I could only hope this was the answer to my apparent problem.

9

For the next couple of days, I noticed Jimmy avoiding me. He was acting out of character, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I tried to talk to him, but got the cold shoulder. He’d take the cats and lock himself in his office, doing God knows what. He worked his one day that he was scheduled and Hollister called me on her lunch to pass along that he was surly and seemed upset. No one wanted to work with him, but she’d gotten paired up with him and was trying to get him to talk.

I wished her luck and sighed. I’d gotten some work done inside the house, mostly with laundry and loading the dishwasher. We were total slobs, but with Jimmy being angry, the house was immaculate. I picked up my office, wishing I could putz around in the yard for a bit. With his allergies, Jimmy was unable to mow, and I always mowed on the days he had to work, so that it had all day to settle. It sucked to be out there at seven in the morning, but it was the best I could do.

I perked up as I heard a helicopter heading over the house and opened a window to peek outside. I couldn’t see the pilot, but it was the Creighton air ambulance and I knew Jimmy was flying today. That thought caused me to sigh again, and I wondered how to salvage our fractured relationship. I’d never seen him this angry at me and I didn’t know what to do.

I shut the window before I froze to death and took out my phone. We had many mutual friends here in Iowa and out in California, but I wasn’t sure they could give me any insight or solutions. Then, I had an idea. I flipped through to Dr. Mathias’s number and hit send; surely the doctor would have some good advice for me.

“Creighton Family Practice, this is Shelly, how can I help you?” a pleasant female voice asked, and I smiled.

“Hi, Shelly, it’s Jacoby,” I said. “I don’t suppose Dr. Mathias would have a second?”

“He’s with a patient at the moment, but he could call you after. Will that work?”

“Yeah. I just need some advice about Jimmy.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks, Shelly.”

“No problem,” she said, and hung up.

I knew it could be an hour before I heard back, since he gave all patients an hour to visit with him. This way, he didn’t have to rush appointments and patients got some one on one time. I pocketed the phone and headed to my office; might as well work on the computer while I waited. I was looking up ways to help Jimmy at home, since he wasn’t being open to anything else. My mom had yet to get back to me about the program she’d been in, so I emailed her about that.

The problem with most treatment is that Jimmy can’t handle it. It works, and the therapists know it can work, but it disrupts his life and he can’t seem to fit it into his routine. I take him to a session or two and then he’s just a mess. He won’t go past the first week and I don’t know how to help him. I’m praying that the doctor has some ideas, because at this rate, we won’t last another month.

I was in the middle of reading an article about OCD treatment when my phone rang, startling me. I was glad to see it was the doctor calling back and I minimized my window, grabbing a paper and pen to take notes.

“Hello, Jacoby,” the doctor said, and I smiled. “I understand Jimmy is causing you some grief?”

“Just a bit,” I said sarcastically. “Just a wee bit. Honestly, I’m about ready to file for divorce.”

“I wouldn’t suggest that course of action,” the doctor said and we both shared a laugh. It felt good to laugh and it relieved some of the stress I was feeling. “But, I can try to help. What’s he been doing?”

I outlined the last couple of days since our fight. I heard the doctor sigh and I wondered what was going on. It seemed to me there was something he wasn’t telling me, and I finally asked him outright what was going on.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said, and I sighed. As though he could read my mind, he answered my unspoken protest. “I know, you’re supposed to know everything that goes on at his appointments. But this one was a little different. He came in to talk and said he had something he wanted to surprise you with. I can’t very well divulge the surprise.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Well, I just wondered if you had any advice for ways to help him at home? He won’t do outpatient treatment anymore, because it just causes problems. What can I do here? I saw a workbook in the bookstore the other day that I thought about trying.”

“That would be a good first step. If that can get him on the road to recovery, the outpatient programs might work in his favor,” the doctor said, as I started taking notes. “But go very slowly, Jacoby. You know that he’s in an extreme state right now, and one wrong move could make it worse.”

“I know. I want to wait and start the workbook after he calms down, but he won’t even look at me, so I can’t talk to him to resolve this. What can I do?”

“I know this is going to sound clichéd,” the doctor prefaced his answer, but I think I know what’s coming. “But if you can get him to sit down with you, that’s a first start. Make his favorite meal, offer to watch his favorite movie or TV show, listen to his favorite music, let him babble on about something he loves to talk about. Just get him to sit down with you. Once you’ve done that, take it slow. Talk about anything but the topic at hand. Eventually, you can steer yourselves to the problem. He may or may not leave the room at that point, but it’s a start. He’ll calm down, like he always does. But he’s cooped up right now, Jacoby. He needs to be able to get outside and let off steam, go running, things that are hard to do in the winter. “

“Are you implying that we should move back to California?”

“Well, yes,” the doctor said and I sighed. “Look, I know you guys like it here, I know that you’ve got the farm and you’ve worked very hard for it. But Jimmy needs the type of environment that California is known for. And it doesn’t have to be California. Anywhere warm will work. But he needs his outdoor hobbies, he needs sunshine, and the winters here are long and bleak. I know he’s got the cats and the house plants, but he needs more, Coby.”

“But we agreed that we’re not leaving Iowa,” I reminded him, feeling frustrated. “He celebrates our anniversary one way and we can’t just fly back here every January to celebrate. He needs to see you and the places things happened. I can’t take him away from that. Look what happened this year!”

“I know, Coby, I know. But I think you need to do something. Perhaps it’s time just to visit back home. Not move there, but go there and visit.”

“We’re going this summer, since we’ll have the PTO and stuff saved up,” I said. “We can’t go now because we don’t have enough PTO.”

The doctor was quiet for a moment, and I knew he was pondering the situation. He had a good idea, but it just wasn’t financially feasible at the moment.

“Could you afford airline tickets right now?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I mean, we could charge them, but we’d be paying them off for a long time.”

“I’ll talk to your supervisor,” he said, and I knew he was smiling. “I promise, Jacoby, that I will help make something work out.”

“Alright,” I said, nodding. “Thanks doc.”

“Anytime,” he said, hanging up. The doctor had a good idea, but I just couldn’t see it working. I went downstairs to the kitchen, looking to see if we had the fixings for my lasagna. It was one of Jimmy's favorite meals and if this was going to work, I had to go a little over the top.

I got out the noodles, the meat, the cheese, and the spices. I went down to the basement and got three jars of tomatoes that Jimmy had canned last summer, and returned upstairs to my phone ringing. I grabbed it without checking the caller I.D., and breathlessly greeted the caller.

“Coby, can you come into work?” It was Hollister and my heart started to race. “Jimmy needs you right now.”

“I’m on my way,” I said, hastily tossing the meat into the fridge. “What’s going on?”

“Just get here,” she said, and hung up. I pocketed my phone and dressed in my boots, hat, scarf, and coat. I grabbed my keys and shades, then stepped into the cold, sunny, Iowa afternoon. The snow crunched under my boots and I feared the worst. Had the helicopter crashed? I wasn’t one to watch TV in the afternoons, so I wouldn’t know. I flicked on a local news station in the truck and made my way as fast as I could to the interstate.

“Jesus, Jimmy, what did you do now?”

I sped all the way, glad for the clear roads, reminding myself that in town roads would still be snow packed. I arrived at Creighton in 20 minutes, and ran into the ER. I kept my badge on my jacket, and flashed it at the locked double doors, running to the nurse’s station.

“He’s up on three,” Racheal, one our dispatchers said. “Use caution.”

Flustered, I ran for the elevators, hearing boots running behind me. I jabbed at the up button, frantically dancing from foot to foot, waiting for the metal doors to open. As soon as they did, I was in and jabbing at the three. I looked to see Anthony, our neighbor and co-worker.

“What happened?” I asked, as the elevator crept upwards.

“He flipped, Coby,” was all he said, as the doors opened on the psych ward. I could hear screaming and I knew it was Jimmy. “Sean asked him to stay grounded after the last flight, since he had a meltdown on scene. Someone did a step ahead of him and he couldn’t get back right again. He’s grounded until things get resolved. But when Sean asked him to stay grounded and take ambulance duty the remainder of his shift, he flipped. He was screaming, incoherent, pulling at his hair, punching walls, threatening patients and staff. They called a Code Green on him and hauled him up here. Dr. Mathias is here and they’re trying to get some medicine into him.”

I ran to the room the screams were emanating from, entering room 304 at a dead run. Jimmy was pacing the room, screaming and yanking at his hair. Large clumps of hair littered the green tiled floor and his face was red. Staff had him surrounded, and Dr. Mathias was talking to him, trying to get him distracted so they could inject the calming medication. He’d been stripped of his uniform, and was pacing in his boxers and black socks.

“Jimmy, it’s Coby,” I said, quietly. I had no idea what to do, since I didn’t take care of many psych patients. “I need you to calm down, okay?”

“NO!” he screamed and he ran for me. I caught him, holding him tight and yelled for the nurse. She jabbed the needle in my husband’s arm, and I noticed that it was a larger than usual dose. “This is all your fault!”

He collapsed after that, breathing heavily. The medication hit his system hard and fast, and I carried him to the bed in the room. I carefully laid him down, and the staff rushed to get him restrained. The bed was low to the ground, so he couldn’t fall out and hurt himself. When his limbs were secure, I asked everyone to leave but the doctor. I sat on the bed, stroking Jimmy’s face and hair.

“Coby?” he croaked out, and I could tell that his throat was sore. I asked the doctor for some ice water and he left the room. “Where am I?”

“You’re on psych,” I explained, and felt horrible when he started to cry. “You had a big meltdown in the ER.”

Jimmy said nothing, just laid on the bed, looking broken. I knew that things had come to a head now, and he’d get the treatment he’d refused for so long. The doctor returned and handed me a clear, plastic cup with a white bendy straw in it. I placed the straw on Jimmy's lips and he drank, flinching, until the entire cup was gone.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, and I kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I said, as he fought the sedative effects of the medication. “You rest and we’ll talk when you wake up, okay?”

He nodded, drifting to sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief when he relaxed, his breathing even. I rubbed a hand over my face and looked up at the doctor.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now, he gets what he’s been needing,” the doctor said, looking at my husband. “I’ll get a treatment plan started for him and keep him here as long as it takes.”

“Thanks,” I said, holding Jimmy's hand. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, and I hoped he hadn’t hurt anyone.

The doctor left, and I laid down with Jimmy, after shedding my winter gear, and placed an arm around his waist. Whatever was to come, I was going to be here for him. I said for better or for worse, and I meant it.

I think maybe my heart just broke a teeny bit. Poor guys, both of them. I really hope Coby is able to rescue Jimmy again.

10

Ciara> The previous chapter and this one were, at the time, hard to write. There's so much emotion and fear going through them...but they added something to the story that I haven't yet put my finger on. It is heartbreaking, though, what they're going through right now.

***

The two remaining days before I returned to work were tense in the house. I ignored Jacoby, despite his attempts to talk to me. He had the same two days off and reminded me that I'd yet again wasted a perfectly good chance to celebrate our anniversary. I just turned around, scooped up Ma and Pa, the two cats I used for comfort, and locked myself in my office. The black and white cats purred as they sat on my lap, looking out the window behind the red cloth couch I had in there.

I was not going celebrate our ruined anniversary. It’s been a week now and I just can’t do it. We can’t do it like we usually do, so I’m not doing it at all. I thought he understood that, but like so many things in this marriage, I find that he doesn’t. I wonder what else he doesn’t get.

I spent my two days off avoiding him as much as possible. I slept on my couch, kept the cats to myself, and worked on the computer. I emailed my sisters and sought advice on my situation, but they had none. Both felt that I just needed help for my OCD, and I didn’t find that very helpful at all. Everyone has been harping on me to get help, but they don’t understand how hard that is for me. No one understands me at all and I’m tired of trying to explain myself.

Finally, though, my two days off ended. I woke up at five and got showered and dressed in my uniform. I had to be to work at 0630 today, and I was flying. I wasn’t feeling terribly rested, but I’d be fine to fly; I’ve flown on less sleep. I let the cats out and made my way downstairs, and got a mug of coffee, a routine I could never see breaking. Every morning was the same: I got up at five, went downstairs and made coffee, showered, dressed, and then either went to work or had breakfast and puttered around in the yard or in my office until Jacoby rolled out of bed. I’ve been doing it this way for the last 10 years and I can’t imagine changing. The thought makes me shake with fear, to be downright honest.

But this morning I filled my coffee mug and got dressed to go outside. That routine is the same as well: I put on my boots first, left foot then right foot, then my hat, scarf, coat, and gloves. I zip my coat up and am out the door. I take the same path from the backdoor to the garage door, and if it’s not scooped, I’ll scoop it as I walk. Jacoby, as usual, doesn’t understand how important this routine is, so I have to deal with it myself. My lungs don’t like it, but I suffer for my sanity.

This morning the path was scooped, since we’d had no further snow since the last big storm. It felt somewhat warm outside this morning, too, so maybe the worst of our winter has ended. I got in my truck, making sure to do the same routine I always do: get in, shut the door, turn it on, put my coffee in the cup holder, adjust the heat, change the CD, buckle up, then open the garage door. I backed out and finally, I was on my way. I sang along with the rock CD, letting it wake me up while the coffee cooled.

While driving, I wondered who my partner would be that day. I’d be flying for the majority of my day, but I sometimes got pulled on an ambulance run when there was no need for the chopper. I wasn’t in a very good mood, since Jacoby and I had been doing nothing but fighting, but I could put on a happy smile for work. I’ve done it before.

I pulled onto the highway and finally the interstate. The pavement was dry this morning and I was glad for that. I’ve been late before because I didn’t plan ahead for the road conditions and even the patient bosses I had were bound to run short of patience at some point. The drive was uneventful, which I was also thankful for. I made my exit in plenty of time and finally arrived at work. I clocked in on time and went to find out the partners for the day.

“Morning Jim,” Hollister said, as she sipped at her coffee. “It’s you and me today.”

“Cool,” I said, smiling. I went to my locker and put my things away, grabbed my supplies and was ready to go. My badge was visible and so far, my day was starting out nicely. I went into the main ER area and looked at what we had. We were pretty much empty, so that was a good sign. I saw Sean and waved. “Morning Sean.”

“Morning Jim,” he said, sipping coffee. The day shifters down here are all coffee drinkers, since we need to be awake and alert. “If you’re ready, we’ve got a couple of patients that need to be checked in. One’s a small kid and the other is an older woman.”

“I’ll help with the kid,” I said, putting my mug down in the same spot I always do. No one else uses that spot, since they know what will happen if they do. I went into the small room we use to take vitals on our non-critical patients and smiled at the mother. There was a small baby on her lap and she was screaming her lungs out. “Good morning. I’m Jimmy.”

“I’m Erin and this is Mikayla,” she said, indicating the baby. “She’s been screaming since four this morning and nothing is helping, so we brought her in. She’s not teething and we gave her gas drops, so we’re not sure what’s going on.”

“All right. I’m going to take her temp here,” I said, gently inserting a small probe into the baby’s left ear. That made her scream louder, and I apologized to her. “She’s got a temp. It’s at 101.3.”

I wrote that down, then listened to her lungs. They were good, so I took them back to a cubicle and told her the doctor would be in shortly. Poor thing probably had an ear infection. I returned to the main bay, making sure a doctor knew about the family. From there, my day was fairly normal. I flew a couple of runs to take patients to different hospitals, or to pick them up. There wasn’t much going on in the ER, as we were mostly empty all day.

The main excitement came later on and my memory isn’t very reliable. I was on the scene of a big wreck out on a county road, and one of the new flight staff got ahead of me. I don’t recall now what he did, but I was getting a patient ready for transport and he did one step out of sequence. I’m sure it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but he’d gotten me off track and I couldn’t recover. I did my best not to freak out, but it was no use. I excused myself from the scene and stood off a bit, letting the meltdown happen. I got myself as under control as I could and helped load patients. I flew us back to Creighton, got the patient checked in, then went to cool off.

Sean stopped me before I could get outside, and I stood there, wringing my hands.

“Jimmy, you’re grounded until you get this OCD under control,” he said, sternly. We were alone, and I was thankful. “I can’t have you melting down in the field, got me?”

I don’t know exactly what happened after that. I remember starting to cry, begging him not to ground me. This was what I’d worked so hard for and it was a passion. I couldn’t imagine life without flying, and he was trying to take that away from me.

“You can’t!” I said, and I knew I was going to cry. “Sean, I’ve worked so hard for this! I’ve stayed clean for this! This is what I have, Sean! This and Jacoby, can’t you see that? It was one time, and you can’t ground me for one time!”

“Jimmy, it isn’t just one time, though,” Sean said, gently. I was angry and I knew he was trying to calm me down. He knew he should’ve let me cool down before he confronted me, but it was too late now. “It’s been many times over the last few years. You get so engrossed in your routines and your world crumbles without them. You can’t function like this and you certainly aren’t going to fly like this. I’m sorry, Jimmy, but you’re on ground duty until you get help.”

“I am getting help!” I shouted, my hands rubbing together harshly. They were starting to chaff, but I didn’t care. “I went to the doctor and I’m on medicine now! But it takes time, Sean! Don’t ground me, please!”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” he said, quietly, and there were tears rolling down my face. “I have to. You’re not safe anymore, and I can’t have you flying or treating patients. You can check people in, help with transporting patients, but you’re not doing anything else until this is under control. I know how much it means for you to fly, but I can’t let you out there until things are under better control. I’m sorry.”

I stood there as he walked away, my mouth agape. I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. I don’t know what came over me, but I just snapped. I started to scream, and I searched my pockets for anything to use as a weapon. Sean turned around and I punched a wall, pacing, tearing at my hair. I was crying and I paced into the main bay, ignoring Sean as he called me back. I stalked through the main bay, glaring at those that would dare look at me.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed, as someone tried to restrain me. I tossed them off, looking for somewhere to be alone. I entered an empty bay, seeing a mother and small child. I glared at them, as the child cried. “Silence that child!”

I felt arms around me, pulling me back and I struggled in their grip. Overhead, I heard someone calling a code green, but I didn’t know where it was. I was supposed to go to those, but I was being restrained. I got free and kept screaming, tearing at my hair.

“You can’t ground me!” I shouted, seeing Sean. I rubbed my hands over my face, rubbed them together, ran them through my hair. “I’m flying on the next call!”

People were flooding into ER now, and I didn’t know why they were there. I screamed at them to leave, let me find some peace, but they grabbed me. I punched and kicked, my fists striking walls and people both. I was moving, but I wasn’t in control of my movement. I screamed, kicking and punching, and I managed to get free. I heard people talking to me, but I kept screaming. My fists were pumping, carrying me toward the exit of the hospital. I had to get home, if I could get home, everything would be okay.

“Jimmy, you have to stay calm,” a voice said, and I was moving again, restrained. I fought with everything I had, but I couldn’t get free. “Just stay calm.”

“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling in the arms of my captors. “Let me go!”

I was in the elevator, and I was trapped. I screamed, beating on the doors, sweating, panting; I needed out.

“Let me out!” I shouted, as the walls closed in on me. “Let me out!”

I beat on the doors and they opened, as I tried to run. But I was intercepted, and captured again. I was moved into a room and I screamed, tearing at my hair, pacing, but I couldn’t get out. I tried to get to the door, the window, anything, but I was trapped.

“Jimmy, it’s Ki Mathias, you know me,” a voice said, and I saw the doctor. But I kept screaming, tearing my hair out. “Jimmy, I want you to take a deep breath. We can help you.”

“NO!” I screamed as I tore at my hair. I was trapped, trapped, trapped, trapped. “Let me out!”

I tried to get out once again, but it wasn’t working. I started pacing in a small circle and I didn’t stop screaming. I heard the doctor again, but I kept screaming, pacing, tearing. Scream, pace, tear. It was a new routine and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going. I heard another voice, this one worried but familiar.

“Jimmy, it’s Coby,” the voice said, and I looked up, tears streaming down my face. “I need you to calm down.”

“NO!” I screamed and I ran for him, intent on hurting him. He’d hurt me so much the last week, but he grabbed me and then something poked into my arm. “This is all your fault!”

The world got fuzzy after that. I was moving again, and they were tying me down. I looked into Coby’s eyes through the fuzz; my throat hurt.

“Coby?” I croaked out, and he looked at me. “Where am I?”

“You’re on psych,” he explained, and I started to cry. “You had a big meltdown in ER.”

He asked someone to get me some ice water, and when it was available, I drank it down without a single pause for breath. When I was done, Jacoby set the cup aside and looked at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, and he kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he said. “You rest and we’ll talk when you wake up, okay?”

I nodded, giving up the fight against the sedative effects of the medication. Maybe sleep would provide some relief.

***

When I woke up, there was sunlight streaming in my eyes. Jacoby had an arm around me, and I seemed to be tied to the bed. For a moment, since I was tied to the bed in my boxers, I thought I’d somehow gotten home without knowing it and we’d done something kinky. But then my surroundings became clearer: I was not at home. This was a room on 3 West, the psych ward.

I screamed.

“Jimmy, calm down,” Jacoby said. He was sitting up on the bed with me, his hand making gentle circles on my chest and stomach. “Just calm down, okay? I’m here.”

The door to my room burst open and too many people to count streamed into my room. I was screaming and thrashing on the bed, trying to get free. My routines were broken, and I didn’t know how to function.

“Let me go!” I screamed, my throat sore and raw. Jacoby was petting me, rubbing my chest, whispering to me, and trying to get everyone to leave the room. “Go away!”

“I can handle him!” Jacoby shouted, waving everyone out the door. He continued to pet me and rub my chest, and gradually I calmed down.

“My throat hurts,” I whispered, feeling the tears roll down my face. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You’re up on psych,” Jacoby explained, wiping my face. “You freaked out in ER. I don’t know the whole story, but I guess they called a code green on you. Sean said he wanted to ground you for a while. It’s about nine in the morning, and Dr. Mathias will be in to see you today.”

“I don’t want to be here,” I whispered, wishing my throat would stop hurting. “I want to go home.”

“I think this is where you need to be, Jimmy,” Jacoby said, and I knew how much that hurt him to say. “You were threatening patients and punching walls. This is for your safety as much as anything. Dr. Mathias will be your doctor, okay?”

“I want to go home,” I whispered again, hoping that he’d hear me and understand. “Can I get some water?”

“Yeah,” Jacoby said, getting out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

I laid there quietly and contemplated the ceiling while he was gone. I had very few memories of the previous day, though I do remember being angry at Sean for grounding me. I remember begging him not to ground me and I remember screaming at him, but that’s it. Jacoby returned , and the head of the bed raised a bit, so I was sitting up. I could see that the knuckles on both hands were bruised, swollen and bloodied. He applied ice packs gently to my hands, which were restrained with soft, white loops of cloth. I assumed my feet would be restrained as well, and a quick test confirmed it.

“I need the bathroom,” I whispered, swallowing. My throat was killing me. “And something for my throat.”

“I’ve already talked to your nurse about your throat,” he said, smiling at me. He brushed the hair from my face, then carefully undid the restraints holding me down. “I’m taking today off to be with you, okay?”

I nodded, as I stood on shaky legs and held Jacoby as I walked. I felt weak and I hated feeling weak. I wondered what would happen to me up here. I didn't want to be reprogrammed, but now I know I need help. I leaned my head on Jacoby’s shoulder as we walked, and sighed. He assured me that everything would be okay, but I didn’t believe him.

11

I sighed as I helped Jimmy back to bed, and got him settled in. I couldn’t believe it had come to this. I had no idea what was going to happen from here, but I was hopeful he’d get the help he needed. I sat in the chair near his bed, rubbing his back as he cried again. He looked so broken and I didn’t know how to help him.

“Jacoby?”

I looked toward the door and waved Sean in. He looked heartbroken, and took a chair near the bed, looking at Jimmy. Jimmy looked back at him and then hung his head. I replaced the icepacks on his swollen hands, as he laid them at his sides. I hadn't replaced the restraints, and didn’t think they’d be needed any time soon.

“I’m sorry, Sean,” Jimmy said, so quietly that I didn’t think Sean had heard him. But Sean reached out and touched his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and moved to sit on the bed. “I should’ve been more careful when I spoke to you. But now you’ll get some help. And the helicopter will be there waiting when you get back.”

“You’re not going to fire me?”

“No,” Sean said shaking his head. “Honestly, the entire staff downstairs is behind you. They all want you to get better and hurry back. What do you remember from yesterday?”

“Not much,” he admitted, still looking down at his hands. “I remember being angry at you, but that’s about it. I guess I got pretty violent.”

“You did, but we got you under control and removed from the situation. Now all you have to worry about is getting better.”

“I will,” he said, as Sean stood. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m holding you to that. I need to get back downstairs, but keep me updated, okay? I’ll come visit again.”

“Thanks, Sean,” Jimmy said, and sighed leaning back in bed. Sean left and a nurse entered.

“Good morning,” he said, entering Jimmy’s room. “I’m Eric, and I’ll be your nurse today. How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed, weak, ashamed,” Jimmy said, and I rubbed his back a little harder, trying to comfort him. “I’m sorry for anything I did yesterday.”

“Don’t worry,” Eric said, smiling. He approached the bed with some clothes in his hand, then saw that Jimmy was not tied down. He looked at me with a knowing smile, understanding that I trusted my husband. “I’m going to have to put the restraints back on until Dr. Mathias says to leave them off, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered and I felt bad for him. It was enough what had happened in the ER, now he’d be tied down like some sort of animal. “I was up to the bathroom with Jacoby.”

“That’s fine,” Eric said. He helped Jimmy into the t-shirt and pajama bottoms, then replaced the loops of cloth that would help keep Jimmy from lashing out at anyone. “I’ve got a name band for you. Once the doctor gives the okay to stop the restraints, you can move a bit more freely around the unit. You’ll have x-rays on your hands here shortly, so you will be able to go downstairs for that. Otherwise, until the doctor gives us orders, you’ll have to stay in here, okay?”

Jimmy nodded, never once raising his head from its bowed position. Eric placed the name band around my husband’s left wrist, then left after making sure that everything was in order. It wasn’t long before two techs from x-ray came up.

“Hi guys,” I said, as I undid the restraints. Julie and Monica smiled at me, and I knew that word had gotten around. “Jimmy, x-ray is here.”

He finally looked up, as I helped him stand. His eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles underneath. His hands shook slightly as he stood, no doubt from the stress of the situation and the medication from last night. The pants were far too big on his slender frame, so I tightened the tie on them to keep them from falling down. He sat down in the wheelchair without saying a word and Monica wrapped him in a blanket.

“Do you want me to come along?” I asked. I needed to call his parents and our friends, but he was my priority now.

“Yes,” he said, and took my hand as we left his room and headed downstairs.

“I’ll call your folks while you’re in the room, okay?”

He nodded, and I felt a deep sadness over come me. I’ve never seen him this broken and I couldn’t help but feel a little responsible; if we hadn’t been fighting all the time, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I shook the thought from my head as we arrived downstairs. I left him with the girls, praying that he wouldn’t have another outburst. I went outside to get a better signal, then dialed his parent’s cell, hoping to catch them at home.

“Hello?” his father’s familiar voice answered after two rings and I sighed, wishing I had better news.

“Hi, Joe,” I said. It was a bit ironic that the sun was shining but I was miserable. No amount of warm sunshine was going to change that.

“It’s Jacoby,” he said, and I knew that Barb was standing there as well. “What’s up?”

“Jimmy’s in the hospital,” I said, and explained the events of the night before. I heard his mother start to cry and felt that guilt creep in again. “He’s going to be here for a while; at least until Dr. Mathias can get a treatment program for him.”

“We’ll be on the first flight we can get,” Joe said and I heard the worry in his voice. “Is he at Creighton?”

“Yes. Room 304 on 3 West,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I need to call our friends and my family yet, but I wanted to call you first.”

“We’ll get the word out down here,” Joe said, and I nodded. “You take care of Jimmy. I’ll call when we have a flight and a time we’ll land there.”

“Alright. I’ll let him know you’re coming,” I said. We said goodbye and I closed my phone. I returned inside just in time to go back upstairs with my husband. I decided I’d wait to tell him about his parents until we were back in his room and he was strapped down. I didn’t really think he’d do anything rash, but he was not himself right now, so I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Did you call mom and dad?” he asked, as he was returned to bed. I replaced the restraints, then resumed my seat beside the bed. I’d have to return to work tomorrow and work the weekend, but for now, I was going to stay at his side.

“I did, and they’re on their way out. They’re going to tell everyone out there what’s going on,” I said, as my phone buzzed. I’m still astounded that his parents know how to text. “They’ll land in Omaha at 1645.”

“Okay,” he said, and he was quiet again. “Are Kelly and Katie coming?”

“Your dad didn’t say. He did say that everyone out there sends their best.”

He nodded and his eyes slipped closed. I knew he’d gotten a heavy dose of medicine last night and it was probably still in his system. I let him sleep, dialing my mother and hoping she was home. I know she struggled for years with OCD, but I don’t recall her ending up like this.

“Mom?” I asked, standing near the window. The cold Iowa winter air made a soft draft and I made a mental note to ask someone to shore up his window. He’d get cold once he got back to normal and this wouldn’t be good for his lungs.

“How’s Jimmy? His mother called,” she said.

“He’s sleeping right now. He got a pretty hefty dose of sedative last night,” I said, watching him. “Dr. Mathias is working out a treatment plan, but he hasn’t been in yet.”

“I know you’re wondering about me,” she said, and I heard a door close. “No, I never got this bad. But it was close. Is it just OCD that’s going on? Could there be more to it?”

“I’m wondering that. I know he’s been diagnosed with PTSD, so I wonder if that’s to blame.”

“When is his anniversary of being found?” she asked.

“May 15th,” I said, thinking back. “It was 1998, and we found him in an alley outside a seedy bar in Council Bluffs. Nobody thought he was going to live, but he woke up on June 29th, 1998 and was released to rehab on July 16th, 1998. We started dating on August 15th, 1998 and married January 10th, 2000.”

“I bet your 10 year triggered him. All the fighting probably brought him to the edge.”

“Trust me, I’m blaming myself at every turn,” I said, with a heavy sigh. “I keep thinking that if we weren’t fighting, we wouldn’t be here right now. He’s just broken, mom. I can’t help but think I’m why.”

“You must not blame yourself. These things happen, Jacoby. With someone like Jimmy, who’s been through so much trauma and with the fighting lately, it’s not surprising that he’s having problems. Just give him time, Jacoby. I know this is hard, but don’t blame yourself. He’s in a good place,” she assured me, even though it was of little comfort. “Keep me updated, okay? I’m flying out this afternoon at two from here, so I’ll be there by evening.”

“Thanks mom,” I said, as Jimmy started to stir.

“I love you,” she said, and I returned the sentiment before hanging up. I returned to my husband’s bedside, feeing exhausted. I slept well last night, with him, even though the bed is small. But all of the stress was wearing on me and I could tell it was going to be a very long day.

12

The days following my outburst in ER are a blur. I know I was heavily medicated, and I know that Jacoby was there, as were my parents. I know that Jacoby’s mom was there and my sisters. But I don’t recall much else. I recall brief moments of lucidity in those days, mostly between shots of sedative medication, when I’d try to leave or fight the staff as they tried to care for me.

I don’t know many days I lost or most of what happened during those lost days. I just know that I woke up in the middle of the night, exhausted, my throat still sore, my hands still swollen and bruised, and I gave up the fight. I decided that I was going to quit fighting everyone and let them work with me. I was tired of being sedated and restrained, and I was tired of fighting. If they wanted to reprogram me and ruin my life, so be it. Kudos to them for succeeding.

I remember looking around the room in the light of the moon. How clichéd, huh? But the moon was full and it was shining right in my window. I was restrained to a twin sized bed that was less than two inches from the floor. The room was empty except for me and the bed, because I might try to hurt myself otherwise. I was only allowed covers because I was restrained and I wasn’t going to be able to strangle myself with the sheets if I couldn’t move my hands.

I figured that no one would know I was awake, so I was going to enjoy it. When they came in to sedate me again, I’d tell them that they had won and I was theirs for the taking. My family would go home, Jacoby would divorce me and I’d be back on the streets where I started 12 years ago. I didn’t relish the idea of wintering on the streets; it was hard enough the first three years I did it, until Jacoby found me in May of ‘98. But I could do it, I was strong, and I wasn’t going to have a home after this anyway.

I know what you’re thinking: oh, that’s rubbish. No one is going to leave you, Jimmy, and you’ll have a loving husband and wonderful family still there for you. You’ll return to your job and all will be well. But I will tell you that it won’t. I’ll have changed by the time I leave here and no one will want me. I’ll be too different, too unlike myself and unlovable. In time, I might find that new someone, but I’ll be out on the streets in the mean time.

I’m ashamed to say that the thought made me cry. I’ve done a lot of that lately, lying in this bed, broken inside. I’ve cried and screamed and fought. All in the name of…I’m not sure what, really. I don’t know what I’m fighting for. I just know that I don’t want to be here and the sooner I can get home and back to my routines, the better off we’ll all be. But they won’t follow my routines here, no matter how I beg them to. I can’t get them to understand that my life is a living hell right now because things are out of sequence in my life. I have to do things the same way every day without fail. But no one will listen to me. Dr. Mathias saw me in a moment of lucidity and I begged him to get them to understand. But he said this was part of my treatment and in time, I’d be okay. I think he’s lying, but what can I do? I missed our lunch date for being in here, even though he was kind enough to bring lunch to me. I was so out of it, though, that a staffer had to feed me and we didn’t get anything accomplished. When I awoke later, mom was there and she had two gifts for me, from the doctor. We opened them both; I got a five year pin from the doctor for my sobriety and Jacoby and I got a gift certificate for our favorite restaurant. The certificate had $100 on it, so we could eat out for a while on it.

But all of that couldn’t cheer me up and make me see sense. I still believe, firmly, that my time here is dwindling and the love I have around me right now isn’t going to last. No one wants to be friends with a loser, after all.

***

I must’ve returned to sleep because when I woke up again, mom was sitting next to me. I blinked at the sunlight in my eyes, wishing I could bring a hand to shield them. Mom must’ve noticed my movements, however slight, because she went to the window and drew the curtains. There were no blinds allowed on the psych ward, because people could hang themselves with the thin cords. When mom turned around and returned to my bedside, she had a bright smile on her face.

“Good morning, Jimmy,” she said, and kissed my forehead, brushing my unkempt hair back. I’d been allowed showers, but had refused them, and I wanted one desperately now. “How are you feeling?”

“Defeated,” I mumbled, and felt the tears welling up again. Mom wiped the salty rivers from my cheeks as I took in a deep breath. “I quit, mom. I’m not going to fight anymore, because I don’t care. They can reprogram me, you guys can all leave me, and I’ll go back to the streets.”

“Jimmy,” she said, and I knew she was shocked. “We’re not going to leave you. You’re not going back to the streets, and no one here is going to reprogram you. You’re simply going to get treatment for OCD and PTSD.”

“But I’ll be reprogrammed,” I protested, as my room door opened. I didn’t look to see who had entered, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw mom wave them off. “I can’t function without my routines, mom. Look at the time I’ve spent here: I’m snowed around the clock because I can’t handle life without my routines.”

“Dr. Mathias has ordered the sedative stopped,” mom said, and I sighed with relief. “You were very combative, but he feels that being awake and alert is going to help you more. You’ve been here four days and nothing has been resolved.”

“Four days?” I asked, my eyes wide and staring. My mom nodded and I breathed out. “Wow. No wonder I feel so off kilter.”

“The doctor has a treatment plan ready for you, but he needed you to be ready for it.”

“I’m tired of fighting,” I admitted, looking down at my bruised hands. I brushed the sheet, glad for some movement, however slight. “I’m just tired of it all, you know? I’m about to lose my marriage because I can’t learn to compromise and I’m in danger of losing my family because of something I can’t control.”

“You’re not going to lose anything,” she assured me, smiling. “I’ve been talking to Jacoby and he realizes now that none of this was his fault. He’s carrying a lot of guilt with him, but we’re helping him work through it. He’s working today, by the way, and will come spend his lunch break with you, then be up after work. He had a busy weekend, with a lot of calls, and he said everyone missed you downstairs. You have a lot of cards, flowers, and balloons at the house.” She dug in her purse and pulled out her camera. She flipped through the pictures and showed me the kitchen table at home. “These are all from the ED. They all went together for flowers and balloons, even though they’re not allowed up here. These,” she flipped to the living room, and I laughed when I saw Ma and Pa curled up amongst the flowers and balloons. “Are from California. Your dad and I, your sisters, brother-in-law, friends, and Jacoby’s family.” She smiled at me, putting the camera away. “No one is going to leave you, Jimmy.”

I glanced out the window and thought it looked warmer.

“Is it still January?”

“For a couple more days,” mom answered, and I nodded. “If they’ll allow it, do you want to go for a walk?”

“Yeah,” I said, and crinkled my nose as I looked at myself. “I’d also like a shower and something to eat.”

“I’ll go chat with your nurse and be right back,” she promised, handing me the camera. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with it, but I managed to operate it with one very sore hand.

I got to the picture folder and was surprised at what I saw. Relatives were pictured holding get-well signs and wishing me good luck, there were the pictures of the flowers and such, of course, and pictures of home. I found myself missing home, and wishing we could visit before July. Maybe my drug-induced thoughts were wrong and people really did care about me and love me.

“Alright, babe,” mom said, and she had a nurse with her. “The doctor discontinued the restraints, so you are a free man.”

“Good,” I said, as the nurse removed the restraints from my limbs and then from the room all together. I flexed my legs and arms, then tossed the covers back to stand. I knew I wasn’t going to run a marathon right away, but I wanted to get moving. I stood up slowly with mom’s help, and we started moving. “I feel stiff.”

“That’s because you’ve been in bed for four days,” she said, as we walked with the nurse to the shower. I was in the same pajamas from four days ago and I felt disgusting. “I’ve called your dad, and he’s bringing you some pajamas from home. He’ll be here by the time you get out of the shower, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I said, accepting soap, shampoo and a washrag from my nurse. I waited for the door to close, then stripped off, adjusting the water then gratefully stepping under it. I didn’t feel good, but it did feel good to shower. Right away, my mind started filling in what would need to happen next. I didn’t have the coffee started, but I could shower, dress, then get coffee and breakfast. That much I could still do.

“Jimmy, when you’re done, your clothes are on the chair,” mom said, and I thanked her. “Then we’ll get some breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” I said again, as I rinsed my hair. It felt amazing to wash my hair and I relished the feeling, as I reluctantly turned off the water. I dried off and dressed, glad to see my Pepsi pajama bottoms and a plain black t-shirt from home. I left the shower, and met mom and dad in the hall, feeling slightly more human. “Coffee and breakfast next.”

For the first time in days, I was hungry and this time I could feed myself. I was finally kicking the sedative and I was feeling more alert than I had in days. We made our way to the small eating area, and my nurse for the day asked what I wanted for breakfast.

“Coffee, black, and a bowl of Cheerios with skim milk,” I said, since it was the same breakfast I’d had for the last 12 years.

“Anything else?” she asked, and I knew she was testing me.

“No, thank you,” I said. She nodded, as she got me coffee, placing the cup down in front of me. I thought creamer might taste good in it, but didn’t risk asking. My routine had to stay the same in order to be successful. “Mom, dad, are you having anything?”

“We ate at the farm, but we’ll take some coffee,” mom said, smiling. “Do you have creamer?”

“We do,” my nurse said, and I made a note to get her name.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as she handed me a bowl of dry cereal with a carton of milk and a spoon.

“Lisa,” she answered, smiling. She got coffee and creamer for my parents, then said she’d be back to check on us in a bit.

“Is this one of your routines?” dad asked, and I nodded, as I put milk on my cereal.

“I’ve had the same breakfast everyday for the last 10 years. I get up, make coffee, shower, get dressed, brush my teeth, comb my hair, go downstairs, pour my coffee, get my cereal down, get the milk out, get the bowl, then spoon, and then pour the cereal and milk. I have to stir the cereal five times then I can eat.”

My parents looked shocked, but I couldn’t help it. This was how it needed to be for me to function.

“I know how it sounds, but I’m already going nuts because parts of my routine haven’t happened in order. I know this is part of my treatment, but it’s hard,” I said, as I started eating. “I’ve spent four days snowed on sedatives and now I’m up and expected to get cured.”

“Not cured, per se,” a familiar voice said and yet another change was made: I always ate at my computer, and no one bothered me until I’d been awake for an hour. If I was at work, I ate at the computer in the conference room outside the ER. “But we are going to help get your symptoms under control.”

Lisa returned with a small white paper cup, which I eyed suspiciously.

“It’s just your Paxil,” she explained, and I accepted the cup with a small glass of water. I swallowed it down, and prayed it would kick in soon.

“Now that I’ve had them stop sedating you, we’re going to get started. The first thing we’ll do is start with counseling. You’re on medication and I want to keep it that way. With luck, the counseling with the medication will be all you need.”

“When can I go home? Or get back to work?”

“Work won’t be for a few weeks,” the doctor said and I sighed. I couldn’t afford to be off that long. “I know you can’t afford it, but it’s for the best, Jimmy. I’ve checked with Sean and he’s getting some PTO together for you. You had enough saved up for two weeks, but you’re going to be off longer than that, most likely, so he’s going to see what he can do.”

“What about going home?” I asked, as I finished my cereal. I sipped at my coffee, glad for this one comfort.

“That’s what I want to talk about next. If you do well with your treatment this week, I’ll consider sending you home on Thursday. That will be one week since you got here. But it all depends on you, Jimmy. In the past, treatment has been difficult for you, because you can’t put it in your routine. Here, there are no routines allowed.” He caught my shaking hands as I set my coffee down and gave me a gentle smile. “I know that’s hard, but this is how you start healing, Jimmy.”

“I-I can’t,” I said, and my lower lip started to tremble. “I can’t function, you know that. I’m barely with it now, because we skipped around for breakfast.”

“But you’re calm, Jimmy,” he pointed out, and I realized that he was right. “You’re not having the big meltdown that you normally have. You’re hands are shaking, your face reflects your disquiet, but you’re doing better than you think.”

I was quiet after that, because I didn’t know what to say. Was it possible that I could function outside my routines? I hadn’t thought it possible, but perhaps being here had helped me. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to go home, but I was starting to feel different.

“Jimmy?”

“I’ll try,” I promised, and the doctor smiled at me. “I’ll try the treatment.”

“Good,” he said, standing. “We’ll start at 1100 this morning. You’ll meet with Julia Cosgrove; she’s the expert on OCD and PTSD for Creighton Hospital and she will be your best help.”

I nodded, as the doctor left. Once he was gone, I let the tears fall. Mom held me tight, assuring me that everything was going to be okay, but I didn’t believe her. Now that my treatment had begun in earnest, I was scared, and I wasn’t so sure I could live up to my promise.

13

Ma and Pa were my main companions the first night Jimmy was in the hospital. Family started arriving, and finally mom stayed at the house with me the second night, along with Jimmy’s parents. We discussed ways to help Jimmy when he was discharged and ways for me not to throttle him during the transition.

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, of course. Already, according to Jimmy’s mom, he’s been combative with the staff and they keep having to sedate him. The doctor does want that treatment stopped, so that he has to face life during treatment. His routines are being denied him and I feel for the staff. He can’t function if even one step is out of order, which caused the outburst that landed him on psych in the first place.

I had to work two of the days that he was in, and I visited on every break. For the most part, he was fairly out of it, thanks to the sedative medication, and I witnessed the staff feeding him on more than one occasion. I felt for him, but I know this is what he needs.

Now, I’m heading up to spend lunch with him. He’s been in now for four days, and I’m working my one day this week that I’m scheduled. The weekend was busy and today’s lull has been welcome. Sean told me to take an extra 15 minutes with Jimmy and I was glad. His mother had kept me updated via text messages and it had been a long morning. I was going to give them a 45 minute break, and then see if my mom could come sit with him for the afternoon. His sisters were on their way out and would be here tonight.

I rode the elevator upstairs after grabbing my lunch box. I’d brought two sandwiches and two pieces of my mom’s homemade chocolate cake. I exited onto third floor and nodded to the nurses at the front desk, before heading down to 304.

“In here, Jacoby,” one of the nurses said, and pointed me to the room where the patients ate. Jimmy was sitting at one of the tables with his parents looking utterly defeated. “Maybe you can cheer him up.”

“I’ll try,” I said, heading for the table. “Jimmy?”

“Hey, Coby,” he said, and his voice held so much fear and sadness that it made my heart ache.

“Did you guys want a break?” I asked his parents, as I sat down. They looked drawn.

“Sure,” his dad said, standing and stretching. “We’ll be back tomorrow, okay, Jim?”

“That’s fine,” Jimmy said, his head bowed. “Love you.”

His parents hugged him, then left. I told them my mom was offering to sit with Jimmy this afternoon and they said they’d talk to her when they returned to the farm. I nodded, as I unpacked our lunch, placing Jimmy’s sandwich in front of him, along with the cake. I got us some forks and glasses of pop, and some napkins. Jimmy was just staring at his sandwich as though it would bite and I knew that he had a routine for meals that he wasn’t allowed to follow.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, gesturing to his sandwich. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. He stood, looking to see if we were alone. There were no nurses or other staff around, so he darted into the kitchen. He washed his hands, then returned to his seat. I thought I could hear him giving himself a little pep talk, but ignored it. “I can do this.”

He took a deep breath, then bit into his sandwich. Apparently, the world didn’t end, because he kept eating, until all of his food was gone. I was proud of him and hoped this was a sign that the treatment, however early it might be, was working. When we’d finished, I packed up the containers I’d brought and set my lunch box aside. I took note of the time; we had around 30 minutes left.

“How are you doing? I was here the last couple of days, but you were pretty out of it still. I’m glad to see you up and moving. What did the doctor say?”

“I’m in treatment now,” he said, wringing his hands. “I have a therapist who is an expert on PTSD and OCD. She’s going to work with me on the unit for another day or two and then I have to commit to seeing her three times a week until she thinks I’m good.”

“So you get to come home soon?” I asked, smiling. “That’s great!”

“No it’s not,” he said, miserably. I could see his eyes brimming with tears and I knew this was where I had to learn to be patient. “It’s going to be so much harder at home. In the time she’ll work with me here, I won’t be out of my routines. You saw me now, Jacoby. I couldn’t do it. She wants to reprogram me and make me different. I told her that I wanted to get better, but I didn’t want to change. Apparently, that’s my only option.”

“We’ll all help you, Jimmy,” I told him, bringing him into a hug. “Your folks are here for at least a month and so is my mom. Dr. Mathais will help and so will your counselor here. It’s not going to be easy, but we’re going to be here for you. Besides, Ma and Pa really miss you.”

“Really?” he asked, wiping a few tears that had strayed down his face. I thought I saw the slightest hint of a smile.

“Really,” I said, nodding. I had my phone on me, so I pulled it out and called up some pictures I’d taken the other night. I handed it to my husband, hoping the pictures would cheer him up. The first one was Ma and Pa, with a get well soon sign in front of them. “I couldn’t get them to hold it, so they held still long enough for me to lean it against them and take the picture.”

“I like it,” he said, flipping to the next one. It was a snowman we’d all built and he, too, had a get well sign in his hands. “We finally have snowman snow?”

“Yep. I checked this morning, and it’s still good, so you’ll be able to build one when you get home.”

“That’s cool,” he said, showing me the picture. Our neighbors had agreed to be in a picture holding the sign as well, and Anthony had made a second sign that said We miss you in the ER, hurry back, your chopper refuses to fly without you.

“You’re smiling,” I pointed out, as I glanced at the clock again. I’d have to be leaving soon, and I hoped Jimmy would be okay. “That’s nice to see.”

“These are cool pictures,” he said, closing the phone. He looked at the clock and heaved a sigh. “I suppose you have to go.”

“Yeah. Sean gave me 45 minutes, but I think mom’s going to come see you this afternoon, okay?”

“That’s cool,” he said, standing. He held me tight, and I knew he didn’t want to let go. “Have a good rest of the day, okay?”

“I will,” I promised, as he finally let go. He looked up as a nurse approached and said it was time to see Julia, who I assumed was his therapist.

“Uhm, I wanted to surprise you with something, but it won’t work now,” he said, as he walked me to the exit. “I took a big step the other day. I went to see the doctor and got some medication. I wanted to surprise you in a few weeks when I started to calm down, but that won’t happen now.”

I know my mouth was hanging open in shock, and he was looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

“Jimmy, that’s great!” I said, hugging him tight. “The surprise worked, man! I’m proud!”

“Thanks,” he said, hugging me tighter than before. “I know you have to go, but I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, finally turning to leave. I couldn’t believe he’d done that on his own. That must’ve been what the doctor refused to tell me about earlier in the week. I had a big smile on my face when I returned downstairs to finish my shift.

***

When I returned that night after supper, I went to Jimmy’s room and knocked on the closed door. I could hear my mom talking to him in what sounded like a soothing tone of voice and I eased the door open, unsure what I’d find. My eyes widened at the sight of him curled into a ball on his bed, sobbing, tufts of hair littering the floor, and a nurse placing a needle in the sharps container.

“What happened?” I demanded, looking at his nurse. The man might be bigger and better built than me, but I was worried about my husband and would take this man out in a second if he’d hurt Jimmy.

“He had another meltdown,” my mom explained, as she rubbed his back. His entire body was shaking as I approached the bed. The nurse left and a tech came into sweep the floor and change the bedding, if Jimmy would get up. “Jim, Jacoby is here. Do you want to go to the lounge and talk with him?”

Jimmy’s only answer was to go limp in mom’s arms as the medication hit him hard and fast. I was furious, because he wasn’t supposed to be sedated. I clenched my fists and had just stormed out when mom caught my arm.

“The doctor authorized the shot this time,” she said, as my anger rose. “Jimmy was out of control, Jacoby.”

“What happened?” I demanded again, as she led me back to the room. Another tech had come to help and they were changing the bed with Jimmy in it. He was so out of it, so limp as the techs turned him, that I wanted to punch a wall. “He was fine at lunch!”

“I’m not entirely clear what happened,” my mother admitted, as we sat down. “But it happened after supper. I guess he’s got something he does nightly and they won’t let him do it, because that’s part of his treatment.”

“He goes for a walk in the spring, summer, and fall, and uses our treadmill in the winter,” I said, rubbing my hands over my face. “FUCK!”

There was no way things were going to go well at home. He was almost bald from pulling his hair out and I was going to need to get him in for a haircut. I pulled my phone out to check the date and realized that in two weeks, he had a hair appointment. He got his hair cut on the first Friday evening on every month regardless of need. Karen, the girl who’d been cutting his hair for the last 12 years, would meet him at seven on the dot, cut his hair and send him on his way. This allowed time to leave work and return to Mondamin.

“Coby?”

I bolted to my feet and straight to the bed. Jimmy was sitting up, his eyes fluttering open and shut and I knew he was about half with it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, before falling asleep again.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, taking my boots off and laying in bed with him. I always hated staying in my uniform, but this time, I didn’t care. I’d changed out of a soiled top already once tonight, so I was clean enough. “It’s going to be okay.”

I cuddled up to him, knowing that I’d have to return home soon. He wasn’t allowed overnight visitors, but we’d gotten away with it a couple of nights. Now, the staff was enforcing the rule, and sure enough, at 2045, his nurse came in and said that we had to leave. We could return tomorrow. I lingered, kissing Jimmy’s neck, his forehead, his lips. I held him tight, until mom pried me off him and walked me out to the ER entrance. I gave her a ride to her car and we headed north for home. I was exhausted, but I wanted to stay awake in case Jimmy needed me.

Sleep took me over two hours after returning home, however, and the next morning brought snow. I got out of bed and went right for my computer, dismayed to see that the roads were bad. There was a text from Anthony informing of the road conditions and that he’d only barely made it to work this morning. He’d take care of visiting Jimmy today, and hopefully, the roads would be better tomorrow. Today was the end of January, so I hoped that February would be a better weather month. I got showered and dressed, then returned downstairs to see Jimmy’s mom making breakfast with my mom and his dad and sisters sitting at the table, watching.

“Morning, Coby,” his sister Kelly said, standing to hug me. “The roads are shit. Our flight got in last night at 11 and dad had a hard time driving back to the farm.”

“I take it we’re not going to see Jimmy today?” I asked, slumping at the table. “I have a four wheel drive; I bet I could make it.”

“No, trust me,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I know I’m not a good winter driver up here, but even with Jimmy’s truck, I could barely make it.”

Jimmy’s truck had made it home thanks to his parents their first day here. It was odd to see it sitting in the garage, knowing he wasn’t there to drive it. I hope they didn’t move anything around, because he’ll have a huge meltdown, and we’re having enough of that right now.

“But his nurse has agreed to give us updates throughout the day,” his mother said, placing a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon in front of me. “Perhaps a day off will do us all good. Jimmy’s going to be returning home tomorrow or Tuesday, according to the doctor. He feels that Jimmy will make better progress if he’s home for the bulk of his treatment. We’re going to work out a schedule so that he’s always got someone to ride with to his appointments. Joe and I can stay as long as needed, since we’re retired.”

“I’ve got three weeks of vacation,” mom said, hugging me. “So I can stay for three weeks before I’ll need to go back.”

“We’re here for two weeks,” Kelly said, and Katie nodded. “We’ve both got that much vacation saved up. You’ll have help, Jacoby.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said, as everyone else started eating their breakfast. I was glad to hear that they were all willing to stay and help. We were going to need it.

14

February 2nd, 2010

After six days as a psych patient (which is something I’d never thought I’d say), I was finally going home. I was feeling apprehensive, scared to death, you name it. My last meltdown caused me to be sedated again and the doctor is sending me home with pre-loaded doses of the sedative, just in case. Jacoby, being a paramedic, knows how to administer it, and he knows I will usually listen to him. But I’m afraid to go home, knowing that it won’t be just Jacoby and I; my parents, his mom and my sisters are all there and that’s a lot of people seeing me freak out.

I was disappointed yesterday, because the weather didn’t allow my family to come see me. I had visitors from work and everyone is pulling for me. Anthony has said he’s happy to help if my family needs a break, and Jacoby accepted the offer over the phone last night.

“Remember, don’t use your routine to get dressed,” Julia said, and I glared at her. She’s all about breaking routines at the start, rather than just talking things out first. “I know you hate me, Jimmy, but I promise that I’m doing you good here. The sooner you stop resisting, the more progress we can make.”

I wish she hadn’t said that in front of Jacoby and my parents. I got looks of disapproval from them, and I flipped Julia off. I said I’d try therapy; I didn’t think she was going to start out so strong.

“Jimmy,” Jacoby said, watching as I started to get dressed. I always get dressed the same way and no one approved. “Come on, hon. This isn’t trying.”

“This isn’t how therapy is supposed to go!” I shouted, as I yanked my jeans over my left leg first. “I thought we’d talk first and then work on routines! Let me have my fucking sanity while I still can!”

I yanked my jeans over my right leg, then pulled them up. I slammed my t-shirt over my head and tucked it in. I pulled my socks on and then my shoes. When I was done, I stood up, knowing that the anger I was feeling was written all over my face. I went into the bathroom, slamming the door, and wishing it locked. I combed my hair, what was left of it, at least, and then took a deep breath. I was terrified to head home and have to face my OCD in the raw, as it were. I disagreed with Julia’s ways, but was not being offered a new counselor, so I was stuck.

“Let’s go,” I said, anger peppering the demand. “I want to get out of here.”

Julia was rattling off instructions to me, but I was ignoring her. I wanted to go home, and I was on a mission to get to the elevator. I waited impatiently as my parent and Jacoby finished talking to Julia and Dr. Mathias. The elevator was right there and I was so close to freedom, but they were taking their time.

“Thank you for everything,” my mother said, and finally, they were coming my way. Dr. Mathias was with them and I sighed. I was trying things his way, so he couldn’t be upset with me. “Let’s go.”

She pressed the down button and the elevator doors opened immediately. I stepped aboard, ready to head home and get back to normal. I was fully aware that some of my problems were related to PTSD rather than OCD, and the doctor was trying to figure out why.

“I’ve spoken to Julia,” the doctor said, once everyone was aboard. “She’s agreed to do less disruption therapy and do some talking first. I told her that I’m more concerned with the PTSD to start, and she agreed. That doesn’t mean that you should lapse back into your routines. I want you to work on going without them, but it’s not going to be all of them at once.”

“That’s better,” I said, with a sigh. “I’m just terrified, okay? I need those routines and nobody understands. I’m afraid to go home now, because I won’t have the safety that I did here.”

“I have faith in you Jimmy,” the doctor said, as the elevator arrived on first floor. “I’m a phone call away if you need me.”

“I know,” I said, and impulsively hugged him. “I’d like to reschedule lunch, once things are more settled.”

“We’ll do that,” he promised, returning the hug. “Now, head for home and get some rest, okay?”

I nodded, following my family out to the car. Mom and dad had rented a van for their stay, since it was a bit of a squeeze to get everyone into one truck. My sisters were waiting at home and I couldn’t wait to see them. Mostly, I wanted to get home and lock myself in my office again. That way, I wouldn’t have to deal with the hell I was living in.

***

I did exactly as I planned when we got home. I visited with my sisters, then, after supper, I collected Ma and Pa and went to my office. I locked the door behind me and set the cats on the couch. My computer was waiting for me and I logged on to check all of my usual internet sites, returning emails and messages from friends. They all wanted to know how I was doing and I gave them the update.

What I didn’t tell them, however, was that I wasn’t leaving this room. The room had a full bathroom attached to it, and I kept a small fridge in here. It had what I needed in it, and I had some cupboards with food in them. I was set for a few days, at least, and could have my routines without interruption. It also kept me from having to return to see Julia. I was good at sneaking in and out of here, since it was on the main floor, and I was sure that no one would notice the few times I’d have to leave for groceries.

My plan was solid and it felt so good to be home. I’d be heading out on Friday for a haircut, which was a desperate need; I’d pulled a lot of hair out while I was on psych and I was considering a buzz cut. I hated to lose my hair, but I couldn’t be trusted with it right now. Karen would understand, once I told her what had happened. She was a very patient, understanding woman, because she had a daughter that was just like me. Only I think Claudia’s therapy is actually working, where mine won’t get started because I’m too scared.

I sat down at my desk and reminded myself that I’d promised Dr. Mathias that I’d try therapy. To me, I’d given it a good try while in the hospital, but he’d said I had to give it a month. That sent me into a panic attack of grand proportions. I argued, once calm, that I’d tried the therapy and it hadn’t worked. The doctor, in turn, argued that six days wasn’t long enough. The hospital wasn’t a good environment for trying, since I didn’t have a schedule outside of being at my appointments. The real challenge he’d said, would be when I got home.

I took out a sheet of paper and my work schedule. I made a column of dates and times, then plugged work in, like I always do. I had another paper with my counseling appointments and I tried to fit those in, but I couldn’t. I filled in other important things going on the next week, like the cat’s shots and my haircut, things that were on the schedule permanently. My days were very structured if I wasn’t at work; the appointments just wouldn’t fit. I had Julia’s email, so I dropped her an email explaining the problem and thanking her for her attempt at helping.

That relieved me greatly and I started to feel human again. My time on psych was starting to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare and I would be able to function now that I was home. The thought actually cheered me and I considered not locking myself in the office for days at a time.

My email alert went off and I opened it. I hadn’t expected Julia to reply so quickly.

Jimmy,

I’m sorry to get your email. However, you are required to attend one month worth of sessions in order to keep your job. I’ve spoken with your manager and with Sean and both agree that this is for the best. I had hoped that Dr. Mathias had explained this to you, but apparently, he did not. You are not able to return to duty until one month of successful therapy as passed.

Regards,

Julia

I read the email with shaking hands and tears in my eyes. I grabbed at my hair and pulled, and screamed, startling the cats, who began to howl. I ran for the couch and scooped them up, apologizing for scaring them, and hoping the email I’d just read was a dream. Something inside me said otherwise, though, and I took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“Jimmy! Open this damn door!” Jacoby’s voice came from the hallway, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move, not after reading that email. I was supposed to work tomorrow, not have therapy. “Jimmy! Unlock and open this damn door!”

I didn’t respond, just continued to sit on the couch, holding my cats close, willing myself not to pull anymore hair out. I heard footsteps in the hallway, and hoped everyone was going away. Instead, a key was inserted in the lock and Jacoby burst in, frantically looking for me. He saw the hair on the floor, my open email, and then me on the couch with Ma and Pa.

“What happened?” he asked, as he sat down beside me. “We heard a scream.”

I realized, then, that everyone was dressed for bed. Mom and dad looked as though they’d been roused from a sound sleep and I took note of the time: 2300. I needed sleep if I was going to work tomorrow.

“Just an email,” I said calmly. “I should get to bed; I have to work tomorrow.”

“Jimmy, you’re off until the first part of March,” Jacoby informed me as carefully as possible.

“I’m not following that,” I said, gesturing to the paper on my desk. “My schedule said I have to work, so I’m working.”

I heard Jacoby sigh, as he shook his head at me. I reached for the paper to make my point, and was horrified when he ripped it up. I put the cats down and dropped to the floor, picking up the pieces and putting them back together.

“Jimmy, this is why you’re in therapy,” Jacoby said, as I reached for my tape dispenser. “This is exactly why. Throw that schedule away.”

I had just started taping the pieces together and I paused to look at Jacoby.

“How can you say that?” I asked, anger building up in my body. I saw the cats run away, and my family come closer to me. “I thought you loved me! How dare you suggest that I’m in therapy because I don’t want something ripped up?”

Jacoby was on his feet and we were eye-to-eye, anger building between us. This is why I was afraid to come home: Jacoby will now get his way.

“Jimmy, it’s not because of a sheet of ripped up paper! It’s because you couldn’t handle it being ripped up! It’s because you have can’t function if things don’t get exactly the same way day to day. It’s because you’re having breakdowns again!”

“Well, I cancelled therapy!” I shouted, my fist rearing back to punch him. Instead, someone grabbed me from behind mindless of their safety. “That bitch thinks I’m going to see her for a month, she’s got another thing coming! I tried her therapy and it failed, just like everything else! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some sleep so I can fly tomorrow!”

I tried to move from the room, but someone had me held tight. I turned my head, surprised to see my older sister Kelly. She asked everyone to leave the room, then let me go. She closed the door, then gestured to the couch, indicating that I should sit down.

“Jimmy, I want you to talk to me,” she said, sitting next to me. “I know that I missed a big chunk of your life up until two years ago, but I’m here now. What’s going on that’s bringing up all these problems for you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, rubbing my hands over my face. Ma jumped into my lap and I started to pet her, feeling myself become calm. “It started when Jacoby screwed up our celebration.”

“You’ve mentioned that, but how did he screw it up?”

“I thought I’d told this story a hundred times already,” I said, feeling renewed anger. “He fucking traded weekends without my permission. I told him we were celebrating those two days and he fucking traded weekends! Then, he wouldn’t trade back, accused me of telling him to trade and then we had to work because of the damn weather! That’s what’s happened!”

“Take a deep breath,” she commanded and I did as told. “I know that’s what happened. But why has it affected you like this, Jimmy? I’ve talked to you a lot over the last couple years about these issues and you’ve never had a reaction like this. I know you’ve been mired in your routines for a long time now, Jimmy, but why not let go of them?”

“I can’t function if I let go,” I said, feeling my lower lip start to tremble. I did not want to cry in front of my sister. “They tried at the hospital, remember? I was a mess, Kel, an absolute mess. I don’t know how to function without my routines!”

“Then you have to try,” she said gently. This was far different from Julia. “I know you don’t like that, Jim, but you have to try. I also know you hate Julia. I read her email and I know what you did. But Jimmy, this will be the best thing for you, once you get going. You don’t want to lose your job, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then do the therapy if for no other reason than to fly again.”

“I can’t do it. She has no idea what she’s doing,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to lose my job, but you don’t know this lady.”

“How about I sit in on your next session? That’s tomorrow right?”

I nodded, as my sister folded me into a tight hug.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll come along tomorrow and I’ll see what‘s going on, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, holding her tight. “But you’ll understand after that.”

She nodded, though I suspected she was going to tell me everything was okay tomorrow. Everything was not okay, but I was the only one who could see that. With a heavy sigh, I felt my eyes closing and rested my head on Kelly’s shoulder. Maybe I could get a few hours of peace in sleep.

15

I had to work the next day, and already I knew it was going to be a long day. Jimmy was convinced to come to bed for the first time in days but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, and that kept me up the whole night. When my alarm went off at five, Jimmy was already up, showered, and dressed for work. He was downstairs getting his coffee and I sighed; I was not up for a fight at this hour of the morning.

“Jimmy,” I said, stumbling into the kitchen to get coffee for myself. “You’re not going to work. Go back to bed.”

“No,” he said, stubbornly, shaking his head. He had his flight uniform on, his flight and hospital badges on, and was waiting for me. “I have to work today, so hurry up and get ready so we can ride together.”

“Jimmy, you are not working,” I said a bit forcefully. “You have therapy today and that’s it. I don’t know how else to help you understand that.”

The look on his face could only be described as crestfallen. He set his coffee mug aside and looked at me, almost begging me to take him to work.

“I’m going to go shower. When I come back, I want you to be back in bed and getting some rest.”

I left the kitchen and returned upstairs, heading into our personal bathroom. I turned the shower on and as soon as I was stripped of my pajamas, I stepped under the warm stream. I couldn’t believe that after everything, he was determined to continue his routine. He knows he can’t work right now and he’ll be in bigger trouble if he does try. I don’t want him to lose his job just because he couldn’t give up his schedule.

“Coby?” a voice called, as I turned off the water 10 minutes later and started to dry off. “Are you ready to go?”

“Jimmy,” I said, through clenched teeth. I wrapped the towel around my waist and stepped out to face my husband in the steamy bathroom. “You. Are. Not. Going. To. Work. Today. Get it through your head. You see Julia at 1300 and that’s it. Nothing else. Go back to bed.”

“My schedule says work so I’m going to work,” he said, and I knew this was going to be the first epic battle in breaking his routines. “Why would I stay home?”

I took his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. I sighed, then shook him a little.

“Jimmy,” I said, trying to be patient. “You have a new schedule. You don’t work today. That schedule is null and void.” His lower lip was trembling and I felt terrible. “You are not going to work until next month. You are going to see Julia today.”

That broke the dam. I sighed as Jimmy stared at me, tears streaming down his face. I knew that I’d done, in his eyes, the worst thing possible: I’d broken a routine. I did not react when he slapped me, and I did not flinch when he called me a bastard. He turned on his heel and returned to the bedroom. I brushed my teeth, then went to get dressed. His uniform was lying in a heap on the floor and I heard his office door close downstairs.

“To hell with him,” I muttered, as I finished getting around for work. I went downstairs, grabbed my own travel mug of coffee and an apple, then got dressed to head outside. It wasn’t as cold out this morning, and I was glad it was February, because that meant that the weather was going to start warming up.

Once I had my coat and boots on, I went outside, coffee and apple in hand. I was glad to see a clear sky, so I wouldn’t have to worry about the roads. I got into my truck, opened the garage door and then fired up the heat. I was giving more and more thought to the suggestion that we move back to California. I know that will disrupt how we celebrate our anniversary, but maybe it’s time to do it differently anyway. Why keep going to all the places that we have memories, good and bad? I’m starting to think that moving would benefit us more and more.

I’d talked to mom about it last night and she wasn’t sure it would help Jimmy. The weather would be good for him, but it was important to get him settled here first. I wanted to shuttle him to whatever state would get our marriage back to happy status, but understood where she was coming from as well. If he could function here, then we could think about other things.

I merged onto the interstate, hoping we’d have a good day. I was exhausted and if it wasn’t for the coffee, I’d probably sleep all the way to Omaha. I was all set to take the week off, but we were short on EMTs with Jimmy being gone and another EMT who’d been pulled when she threw her back on the job. It was also good for me to get a break from the stress and work was that break.

My phone buzzed and I ignored it. I was one of those that would pull over rather than talk and drive. I knew it was Jimmy, because that was his ringtone. He was no doubt angry with me, but that was going to have to be tough. He could be as angry as he wanted; I wasn’t going to let him get into trouble. I certainly wasn’t going to let him out of his therapy obligation.

The drive seemed to take forever, but I finally made it to Creighton. I had a couple of minutes, so I looked at my phone. Jimmy had texted me twice, once to ask why I left without saying goodbye and the other to say that he was not going to therapy because it wasn’t in his schedule.

It might have been wrong, but I got a little tough when I texted him back.

Get your schedule out and burn it, Jim. You are not working or anything other than going to therapy. I’ll be checking to make sure you’re here, too, so you won’t get out of it.

There was no response as I walked in and I shrugged. He could be angry all he wanted, but he was going to get better.

“You look like shit,” Sean remarked, as I walked to the lockers. “Long night with Jimmy?”

“You might say. He tried to cancel his therapy, but Julia wouldn’t let him. That caused a minor meltdown. Then, he came to bed and just tossed and turned all night. If it wasn’t for coffee, I’d be asleep on my damn feet,” I said. “Jimmy was up before me this morning and ready for work by five. I had to explain to him several times that he wasn’t working. But it’s his routine, and it was harder than Hades to get him to back down. He finally locked his crying arse in his office and I left.”

“I sense that you’re a little stressed,” Sean said and I almost laughed, until I realized that he was right. “If I can get you of here early, I will. For now, go lay down in the bunk area. I’ll come in an hour and get you up.”

“Thanks man,” I said, putting my coffee and uneaten apple in my locker. I trudged off to the bunkroom used by doctors and other staff who had to stay late and collapsed onto the nearest bed. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

***

The hour seemed to go far too quickly, and before I knew it, Sean was shaking my shoulder. I blinked my bleary eyes open and rubbed them. Once I was sitting up, I knew I hadn’t had near enough sleep and the look on Sean’s face told me I was right.

“I called Anthony in,” he said, as I yawned. He handed me my coffee mug and I didn’t bother asking how he got into my locker. “You going to make it home?”

I blinked at him, not sure I followed the conversation.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, taking the coffee back. I let go without a fight and caught the hint of a smile on his face. “Go back to sleep, Jacoby. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

I nodded, laying back down and covering up, and falling right back to sleep.

***

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I felt only slightly better. My head was pounding and I was shaking with cold. I got out of bed, and my body just felt heavy. I knew I’d come down with something, and now I’d get to drive back home feeling like this. I trudged to the bathroom, feeling hot and cold all at once. Once I was finished in the bathroom, I got my boots back on and made my way to the lockers.

“You look like you need someone to drive you home,” Anthony’s voice startled me as I got dressed to head outside.

“How would your truck get home?”

“I brought my wife into work with me, and she can drive it. I already had her come get it, since I was sent to check on you and realized you were sick,” he informed me and I nodded. “Come on, let’s get you home. When do you work again?”

“Next week on Monday,” I said, letting lose a harsh cough. “I worked the weekend for Devan, so I’m off after this.”

“That was lucky,” Anthony said, as I finally got myself ready. My coffee was going to be cold, so I dumped it in a nearby sink, then followed Anthony outside. He took my keys and I climbed into the cab. “Feel free to sleep on the way home.”

I nodded, leaning my head against the cold window. I couldn’t believe that I spent my entire day at work sleeping. I know I didn’t get paid for that and it was nice of Sean to let me do it, but still. If I’m going to sleep my day away, I’d prefer to do it at home in my own bed. I closed my eyes, figuring that a half hour of sleep was a half hour of sleep. Anthony could wake me when we got home and then I could worry about how he was going to get to his house, two miles north of us.

Half an hour later, Anthony gently woke me. I blinked a bit, then realized we were in the garage at the house. I got out of the truck, then thanked Anthony for the ride home. I looked out the open garage door and waved at his wife, then turned to head for the house. I vaguely noted that Jimmy's truck was missing, but was too sick to care.

“How was work?” my mom asked as I entered the kitchen. My winter gear was hanging behind the back door like always, and I was glad to be rid of it. “You okay?”

“Ugh,” was the most intelligent response I could give her as I went upstairs. “I got to work and Sean put me to bed. Woke up with the damn flu.”

“You get tucked into bed and I’ll be right in,” mom said, heading for the upstairs bathroom.

I changed out of my work clothes and into shorts and a t-shirt, then got under the covers. I was freezing and my body was shivering. Mom returned with a thermometer, some fever medication and a glass of water. She stuck the thermometer in my ear, frowning at the reading, then handed me two white capsules and the water. I downed them, then took a long drink of water.

“Your fever is 103, so you don’t get all the covers,” she said, and I protested as she took all but the sheet away from my shivering body. “I know you’re cold, but if you pile on the blankets, your fever will just get worse.”

I know that, of course, but it didn’t make it any better.

“Where’s Jimmy?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“His family dragged him to see Julia. There was quite a fight about it, and he cried all the way out the door, but he went. They sent a text after his appointment that they were going to the grocery store and a bookstore, then they’d be home. They should be home any time now.”

“I wonder how it went,” I mused, coughing again. I knew I was in for a long haul with this illness. When I get sick, I do so with gusto.

“I don’t know,” she said, as we heard the back door open. I heard a babble of voices and a short time later Jimmy's office door slammed shut. “I guess it didn’t go too well.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, as I felt my eyes closing again.

16

I am never going to another counseling appointment as long as I live. I don’t care if I lose my job, I’ll go fly for the police or a local news station. This is fucking nuts! That woman has no idea how to take care of people! She’s Hitler with boobs!

I slammed my office door shut and locked it, after depositing Ma and Pa on the couch under the window. I opened the window, letting in a gust of cold February air and removed the screen covering it. I stuck my head out the window and screamed long and loud. That was the nice part about having neighbors miles away from us: I couldn’t bother them in moments like these.

When I felt better, I put the screen back and closed the window. My appointment ended with me down in the ED getting a breathing treatment because I started having an asthma attack triggered by a panic attack. That damn bitch tried to get me to stop my routines again, breaking her promise that we’d talk first. If all she wanted at first was information, that would be fine, but she was going right away with stopping routines and you can’t do that to me!

I paced the room, ignoring the repeated knocking on my door. My hands rubbed together enough to chaff them, but I ignored that and kept pacing. My breathing was still somewhat erratic and I was still wheezing, but the doctor let me go home since I wasn’t bad enough to spend the night. I would have another breathing treatment in a couple of hours, and should be fine by morning.

I didn’t hear the key in the lock, so I was startled when the door opened. I didn’t pay attention to who had entered, I just turned to scream at them.

“Get the fuck out!” I screamed, getting as far away from the door as possible. “I said I wanted to be alone!”

I let got a deep barking cough, working hard to catch my breath afterward. I felt trapped, and as though I couldn’t get any alone time, no matter how much I begged for it. The person didn’t listen, though, and soon, I was brought into the familiar embrace of my mother. Despite my wish to be alone, I sank into her hug and sighed.

“Don’t make me go back,” I begged, as mom rubbed my back. I was wheezing and struggling to breathe again. She sat me down at my desk and took my rescue inhaler from my jeans pocket. I sucked the medication in and felt it start working immediately. “Please don’t make me go back!”

“It’s okay,” she soothed, as she moved me to the couch. “It’s okay. Just breathe, Jimmy.”

“I can’t go back, mom! Ask Kelly what it was like! She was there, mom!”

“What happened?”

“The first thing that bitch said was that I had to stop my routines. I can’t just stop them!” I said, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. Breathing was difficult again, but I couldn’t stop. I was frantic, in distress, and nothing was helping. I took the second hit on my inhaler, held my breath, then finished speaking. “She said she wouldn’t touch my routines until we talked a bit. This isn’t talking! She promised and she broke her promise!”

“Honey, you have to calm down. I don’t want you having another attack,” she said, rubbing my back. My door opened again and I looked up to see my sister entering the room. She sat on the other side of me and looked at mom.

“Trust me, mom, Julia might be an expert, but she’s not the right match for Jimmy,” my sister said, rubbing my back. I was having trouble breathing again, but I didn’t want to go back to the hospital. “I sat in on the session. She’s determined to break every routine that he has in one day. I explained to her that it might be more helpful to talk to him and find out why he has them, but she insists they have to go before any progress can be made. I’ve put in a call to Dr. Mathias for another therapist. Julia is causing more problems than she’s solving.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“He hasn’t yet, but I’ve made him aware of the problem,” Kelly said, as I started to calm down. “I know he’s got another appointment tomorrow, but when we left, I changed the appointment so it’s with another counselor. That will have to do until the doctor gets back to me.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, as my door opened yet again. Jacoby’s mother came in and turned to leave, but I told her she could stay.

“How was your appointment?”

“Not good,” I said, shaking my head. “Julia went right into the routine thing again, despite her assurances that she wouldn’t, and then I had a panic attack which lead to an asthma attack and three hours in the ED trying to breathe. The doc sent me home with instructions to stay calm.”

“How’s that going?” she asked, with a bit of a smile, and I chuckled.

“Not that great. I was angry when I got home and I’m shook up. I can’t seem to calm down, now that I’m home. My sister has me seeing someone different tomorrow and we’re waiting for the doctor to call us back with his verdict on Julia. She’s just not a good match for me.”

“I was wondering about that,” Lauren said, nodding. She sat on the floor, crossing her legs. “She seemed a bit…harsh to me at first, but I didn’t want to interfere.”

“That’s okay,” I said, smiling. I managed a good, deep breath and felt my lungs finally opening up. It was still going to be a long night, though. “We’ll get it all taken care of.”

She nodded, looking out the window at the ever present darkness of Iowa in winter.

“Jacoby’s down with the flu,” she said, and I frowned. “He got to work and Sean sent him to bed. Anthony drove him home, and he’s out like a light. 103* fever, harsh cough. With your lungs, you’d be well advised to sleep elsewhere for a few days.”

“Thanks for the information,” I said, thinking. “I can sleep here. This couch pulls out, actually, even though I rarely use it.”

“Will you be comfortable?” my mother asked, and I nodded.

“I’ve spent plenty of nights on this after we’ve fought or I just decided to sleep in my office,” I said, smiling. “Besides, the guest rooms are a little full.”

There was light laughter at that. Jacoby and I had a four bedroom house, with the two offices. Those rooms were too small to be considered bedrooms, or it would’ve been a six bedroom farmhouse. This house was made for the days of large families, but it went cheap because it was on the verge of falling down. We turned three bedrooms into guest rooms, but between my parents, his mom, and my sisters, those rooms were taken.

“We’ll all try to get a good night’s sleep,” mom said, and I nodded. “Tomorrow, you’ll see a different counselor and hopefully, things will start going better. Now, how about we make some supper?”

“Sounds good,” I said, standing from the couch. “What are we having?”

“Chili,” my dad announced, standing in the doorway. “I’ve got it simmering on the stove.”

I have to admit that I’ve missed my parent’s cooking. It’s not that Jacoby can’t cook; he’s the best cook I’ve met aside from my parents. But there’s nothing like mom’s home cooking. Moving to Iowa was a food adventure, because everything here is fried, deep fat fried, or just heavy. They use a lot of ground beef and potatoes and sauces. But you get used to it, despite mom’s complaints that she feels like there’s a rock in her stomach after she eats.

I wiped my eyes and followed my family downstairs. I entered the kitchen to find the table set and reminded myself to stay calm; dad doesn’t know that that’s usually my job, since I don’t cook much. I got the milk out, since I always have milk with supper, and got some sour cream and shredded cheese out. I sat down in my usual place, and commenced with the usual supper routine. I filled my glass with milk, drank about a quarter of it, refilled it, drank another quarter and filled it again. I put it precisely at the top center of my plate, and arranged my silverware on either side of my plate. My fork went on the left side and the spoon and knife on the right side. Then, I served myself the main dish and two of the sides. Once that was done, I allowed myself to eat. I started with one side dish, then moved to the other, then the main dish, and then started the cycle over. After every four bites, I took a drink of milk, then returned to my food.

“This is great dad,” I said, smiling as I paused for a few seconds.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said, smiling. “Sometimes you need a little home cooked food, right?”

“Considering my inability to cook, yes!” I said, and for the first time in weeks, I was laughing. It felt good to laugh and made me feel like a normal person. I knew it wouldn’t last, but it was nice while it did. “Jacoby does the cooking around here! I’ve managed to make a roast and then I was in such a foul mood, I never got to eat any of it.”

“It’s in the freezer,” a voice croaked and I turned to see Jacoby standing at the base of the stairs, rubbing his hands up and down his arms and shivering slightly. “I just needed a glass of water, then I’ll had back to bed.”

“I’ll get it,” Lauren said, shooing her son back upstairs. “I’ll be right up.”

Jacoby turned and retreated up the stairs, holding the railing tight. I felt for him; when he got sick he got sick. There was no halfway about it with him. I wanted to go to him, but I knew I’d catch whatever it was faster and that wouldn’t help me one bit. No sense in both of us being sick, after all. I had enough to worry about as it was.

***

That night, I placed a sheet over my couch and laid down under a few blankets I’d grabbed from the hall closet. Jacoby had slept all evening and I was pretty sure he’d sleep the night through. If he was truly sick, it was going to be a long few days. If it was just lack of sleep and the high amount of stress he was under, it would clear by morning. I knew he was under a lot of stress, and I wasn’t surprised that he’d gotten sick.

I went through my bedtime routine, making sure that I’d done everything before I turned out the small red lamp beside the couch. I had another appointment in the morning and I was scared to go. I know that’s childish, but I don’t know the new counselor and how do I know they’ll be any different from Julia?

I fell into a restless sleep after that. I had nightmares about therapy and nightmares about life without routines. I woke several times in a panic and had to calm myself down enough to return to sleep. Ma and Pa had been curled up on the couch with me, but soon retreated to their cat bed by the heat vent. I suppose they figured they’d get more sleep over there.

When the first rays of sun peaked through my window at 0730, I groaned, knowing that my night had ended and once again I’d gotten very little sleep. I went through my morning routine, realizing that I’d slept in by two and a half hours. I told myself to stay calm, because if therapy worked out, it wouldn’t matter eventually anyway. I repeated this to myself through my shower, brushing my teeth and getting dressed. I could still do my routine, even if I was two and a half hours off.

“Good morning, Jimmy,” my mother said as I made my way downstairs. “How did you sleep last night?”

“About as well as I have been,” I said, getting my breakfast. I had a moment of panic when I couldn’t find the cereal, then remembered that we had more. I went to the pantry and got a new box of Cheerios, then sat down to have my coffee and breakfast. I was trying to forget that I should’ve been at work, but it wasn’t easy. “How is Coby this morning?”

“Still sleeping, last I knew,” mom said, bringing pancakes to the table. She put a plate in front of me, and I shook my head.

“No thank you, I’ve got breakfast,” I said, and heard my mother sigh. I hated to hurt her feeling and could feel my father’s eyes on me. I bit my lip and pushed my still-dry cereal to the side with a shaking hand. This was yet another big test for me, and one that Julia had focused on. “I’ll try. Your pancakes are very good.”

“We only ask that you try,” dad said, and I pulled the plate forward. My hands were shaking, but I repeated my pep talk from earlier. If therapy succeeded this time, this is one more routine that wouldn’t matter.

I buttered my pancakes, then poured syrup onto them. I carefully cut my first bit and brought it to my mouth. This was it; I was going to do something different for breakfast for the first time in 12 years. I took the bite into my mouth, tasting the sweet blueberries mixing with the sweet syrup. I chewed and swallowed, then looked at my parents.

“Well?” mom asked, as my sisters came into the kitchen.

“The world hasn’t ended yet,” I said, trying to quell my shaking hands. It wasn’t the end of the world if I had pancakes for breakfast on occasion. “They’re very good.”

“Thanks,” mom said, I took another bite. Any tension in the room seemed to dissipate as I took the second bite, and even I was relaxing. “How are you feeling?”

“A little shaky, but not bad,” I admitted, as I started to relax more with each bite. “It’s just…it’s so hard to imagine life without my routines, you know? This is how I function from day to day.”

“It’s as hard for us to imagine a life with routines as it is for you to imagine life without them,” dad said, and I nodded. “I couldn’t imagine having to function like that every day. But now that we’ve been here, we can see how it helped.”

“I am to the point that I want the therapy to work,” I admitted, finishing my pancakes. I was still hungry, so I waited until the second batch was done. For the first time in 12 years, my cereal would be forgotten. “I know that this all started over missing our anniversary, and that whole scene was kind of embarrassing. We’ve talked about maybe adopting a child someday, but I have to get stable first.”

“You will,” Kelly said, smiling, as she sat down with a glass of juice. Mom brought more pancakes and we all quickly grabbed them. “You’re doing well now, and this is just one small step.”

“I know,” I said, smiling. I realized, of course, that she was right. “Let’s hope this afternoon goes as well.”

There were nods of agreement around the table. I wasn’t feeling as confident as I sounded, but I knew that I had to make this work; if for no other reason that I didn’t want to lose Jacoby.