by Lazuli

Part 5 ~ A Highly Competent Canadian

The morning routine was pretty familiar by now. Ray was up first, showered and ready to get going by the time Ben was being assisted by the day’s nurse and orderly combo. Time out for phone calls and cursing over Diefenbaker’s whereabouts, and Ray wishing he’d been brave, or should that be callous enough to pursue the question when the wolf was mentioned the previous day. Callous, on consideration, yesterday’s conversations had been stressful enough.

Checking that Ben was happy for him to leave, Ray rushed back to the hotel to change, then dropped into a local store to raid the unhealthy shelves.

Today though, by the time he returned, Ben was in his chair and the few possessions he’d had in his room were in a box, sitting on Ray’s bed.

“What’s happening?” Ray asked, quite like an idiot he’d realise later.

‘Too obvious’ collided with ‘too good to be true’, but Ray’s frown was met by Ben’s, albeit nervous, smile.

“We’re going.”

“Mr Vecchio,” came from behind him.

“Doctor Elliott,” Ray acknowledged with the smile of a man who was getting exactly what he wanted.

The doctor indicated the corridor and Ray followed her from the room.

“Mr Fraser has signed everything he needs to sign, transport is waiting, I just need to give you these…” More sheets of information, plus a long list of standard and emergency contact numbers. “Graham,” she indicated today’s orderly, “will be accompanying Mr Fraser and getting him settled in. Don’t even start to argue, it’s part of our health and safety obligation. The bungalow has been deep cleaned and safety checked, and has everything you need to get started, but it would be beneficial to make it more homely.”

“How homely? You still think Benny’s there long term?”

“If he refuses therapy…”

“You mean the psychiatrist?”

“Yes. If he refuses that help, it may take quite a while until he’s on his feet again, so a nice environment will help keep his spirits up.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It’s anything but. I doubt you realise what you’ve taken on, but support will be available when you figure it out.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck.”

Doctor Elliott dipped back into the room to say goodbye to Ben, then they were off.

In the ambulance bay, Ray waited with Ben while Graham chatted to the driver as he lowered the platform at the rear of the vehicle. Impressed that Ben appeared to be managing his anxiety, it evidently helped that Ray was keeping very close, and maybe also the fact that they both wanted this very much made a difference.

“You want me to travel with you? It means I’ll have to leave you for a while later to come back and get the car, but…”

“Follow on. But stay with us.”

“I can’t do both, not unless you sit here until I get back from the hotel, and you don’t want to do that.” Ben looked a question. “The hotel’s in the other direction.”

“Oh,” Ben murmured as he turned a shade paler.

Ray’s observation of Ben’s mental state had been made too soon; the stress was back, the muscles of Ben’s face virtually twitched with it as he studied his surroundings. Ray laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Benny. Really.”

The comforting hand was clearly lacking in effectiveness.

“Ray, have you got your gun?”

“Not on me, it’s in the safe at the hotel.”

“Go and get it.”

“Benny…”

“Humour me. You need to collect your belongings and check out, so…”

“Will you tell me what you’re afraid of?”

“No.”

“But you want me to go now.”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re not worried about Graham?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s black.”

“And that makes a difference because…?”

“Please, Ray. Just go.”

More baffled than ever, Ray felt he had to take Ben at his word, so once Graham had come to fetch Ben he rushed to his car and was at the hotel just, he estimated, as the ambulance was leaving the IRF. He hurled his belongings into his case and collected his gun before checking out, almost breaking into a cold sweat with the pressure and Ben’s infectious anxiety and the whole not knowing of what was going on.

But Ben’s comment about Graham established the situation was to do with a person: male, presumably Caucasian as that was the type Ben had been most anxious around, but Ben didn’t actually know the person? This all helped without helping much. Ray needed more.

He arrived at their new property just as Ben was being gently manoeuvred onto the kerbside, and a couple of women in service uniforms were leaving the bungalow. The women were friendly and chatty, and explained that they’d made up the beds, stocked the fridge, and made the place as comfortable as possible. Ben and Ray thanked them, both with words and generous tips, and watched them leave. Then it was time to go inside, but not before Ray went to the trouble of checking the bungalow out like a crime scene before allowing Graham to push Ben into the building.

“Don’t look at me as if I’m mad,” Ray told the orderly who was cheerfully watching the show. “He’s mad,” he gestured to Ben.

“Thank you kindly, Ray,” Ben acknowledged with the first real flash of the Mountie that Ray had witnessed since coming back from Florida.

Ray tipped Graham, and the driver, and was handed yet more paperwork, including a timetable of when they could expect helpers to call in. Ray also took possession of the property keys.

“Are there any more sets of keys?” he asked Graham.

“There’ll be a set back at the IRF. They’re kept in a safe and no-one has any access unless they’re authorised.”

“The safe is kept locked?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And do the carers coming here knock or walk in?”

“It’s Mr Fraser’s home now, everyone will knock.”

That, at least, was reassuring. It was important for Ben to feel he was in control.

“Tell me something,” Ray said, “why did this place get turned around so soon? That normal, the rush job?”

Graham was already nodding.

“Can be. Special patient.”

“When you say special…?”

“Miriam was making their lives a misery,” Graham grinned. “But I didn’t tell you that.”

Tightly clutching the property keys, Ray said goodbye and, a moment later, he was inside and the front door was shut and locked. Flexing his shoulders to shake out the knots of tension, he walked, as casually as possible, into the living room where Ben was waiting.

“Okay?” he asked.

Clearly not. Relaxing, if it could be called that, after the strain of keeping everything together for the transfer, Ben now looked completely overwhelmed, trembling and wide-eyed as he gazed around at his new future. Torn between offering comfort that he was fairly sure would be rejected, and behaving like nothing was amiss, Ray chose the latter.

“Have you got a cell phone?” he asked. “There’s a landline, but you should have a cell.”

“I don’t.”

“I’ll get you one.” Deliberately not meeting Ben’s eyes in a bid to offer a little privacy, he wandered behind the chair. “Permission to give sir a guided tour?”

Ben nodded, and Ray slowly pushed Ben from room to room, heads on swivels as they became familiar with their new surroundings. Ray made sure to point out the positive features, all the while feeling like Ben was scoping the place out for danger rather than appreciating the disabled-friendly door widths and counter heights. Ray had left the garden until last and as they approached he could feel Ben pushing himself back in his seat – further from the door or closer to Ray, he couldn’t tell. Out on the patio, Ray casually, but actually very deliberately, leant onto Ben’s shoulders as he extolled the healing property of the beautiful Chicago sunshine as it flooded their neat and tidy garden.

“Tall fence,” he concluded.

“Yes.”

“I’ll make a call, get an alarm, some security lights and cameras fitted. Can never be too careful.”

Ben gave a shallow nod, reaching up and taking Ray’s hand, holding it tightly and giving a shudder as Ray squeezed back.

“It’s okay, you know,” Ray told him softly. “To feel vulnerable. Doesn’t make you weak, or a coward, it means we just have to look after you until you’re finding it easier to cope.”

“However long it takes?”

“No time limit. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can we go inside?”

“Other than inside. I’m going inside, sure.” Ray felt the reluctance when Ben had to part with his hand, and knew then that, once again, the new car wouldn’t be picked up: he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Where’s your stuff?” Ray asked once they were back in the living room, gesturing to the box that’d come from the IRF with them. “There’s a few bits here that were at the hospital, but where are all your personal belongings?”

“I suppose someone from the Consulate collected them from my apartment and they’ve been put into storage.”

“Well, you haven’t been mothballed, and we need them here. Who do I contact?”

Ben’s face was grim.

“I should be the one to contact them. Let them know what’s happening.”

“I imagine they know most of it. Mr Moustache had a clutch of papers with the Consulate heading on, and as they’re paying for this they must’ve been consulted every step of the way.”

“Good point.”

“You want me to chase your stuff up?”

Ben dithered but the answer was inevitable:

“Please.”

Ray still had the number for the Canadian Consulate and it didn’t take long to find someone who could help him locate Ben’s property. Ray offered to collect what they had, but they insisted they would personally deliver as soon as possible. Ray told them firmly that he would expect a call to let him know they were coming. Unsurprisingly, they were happy to oblige.

When Ray got off the phone, having taken a sneaky moment to check if there were any messages about Diefenbaker, and called the car rental outlet to let them know the changeover would need to be delayed, he looked around and found that Ben had left the room.

“Benny?”

“Bedroom.”

Ben was clearly thinking something through when Ray arrived, so he just waited.

“Can you bring your bed in here? There’s definitely space for it.”

“That make you happier?”

“It would.”

“Okay. You go and make some coffee and I’ll move the bed.”

“I, umm…”

“The counters are at the right height for you, so’s the fridge and the cupboards. I know they wouldn’t let you do anything practical for yourself at the IRF, but it’s time to make yourself useful. I’m your bodyguard, not your butler.”

“Understood…Miriam.”

Ray laughed at that, relieved he’d found the right approach as Ben determinedly nodded to himself and wheeled away.

Ray managed to locate a tool box under the kitchen sink and, after a rummage had located the correct device, he was able to start dismantling the bed frame in the spare room. He paused as Ben called out.

“I can’t figure out how to bring the drinks in.”

“Is there a tray?” Ray called back.

“Not that I feel safe using. I doubt a lapful of hot coffee is the the kind of physical therapy I need.”

Leaving the bed for the moment, Ray joined Ben in the kitchen and took his coffee.

“Would you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The lapful of coffee?”

“Yes. I can feel, I just can’t use.” Ben paused in thought for a moment. “I think I’d prefer it the other way around.”

“Use but not feel? Can you imagine the mess you’d get into? You could walk into something sharp and not know it, and have bled to death by the time you figured out where all that blood was coming from. And peeing would be a nightmare. You’d be in diapers from day one.”

“You’re obviously in practical mode, and I can’t say I like it.”

“You will when I’ve got that bed moved.”

“I wish I could help.”

“I could try using you and the chair as a sack truck, but when Miriam comes back I’ll be in trouble.”

Ben shook his head, and Ray couldn’t figure out whether he was amused or appalled, but the subject was changed nevertheless.

“How’s the coffee?”

“Good. While I’m moving the bed, go round the kitchen and figure out where things are, and what we’ll need to buy.”

Ben stared around the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“Where do I start?”

“Lists are good.”

“I’ll need a notepad.”

“There’s one in your box from the IRF. Go find it.”

Back in the spare bedroom, Ray took a moment to tell himself he was doing the right thing, forcing Ben to think and act for himself. Two days ago he’d have been fetching and carrying for his injured friend, but he’d taken on board everything he’d read or been told about encouraging Ben’s independence. He just didn’t like it.

“I’ll get used to it,” he told himself through gritted teeth.

“Did you say something?” came from the kitchen.

“Yeah. Righty tighty, lefty loosey.”

Five minutes later there was a noise of frustration from Ben’s direction, and Ray had to go and see what had happened. Ben was leaning over in his chair, attempting to pick up the pen he’d dropped.

“Wait,” Ray told him.

“Why am I so clumsy all of a sudden?”

“Lack of practise.”

Instead of fetching the pen for Ben, Ray looked around and, in a utility cupboard, found the grabber tool he knew just had to be there somewhere. He handed it over and waited as Ben got to grips with it, finally retrieving the pen after four attempts.

“It would have been quicker…” he started to say.

“No,” Ray immediately shut him down. “You need to do this. You’re a highly competent Canadian, so you’re more than capable, and you need to be able to pick up a pen when I’m not here.”

Ben turned a look of confusion on Ray.

“What do you mean?”

“I have to get out and see people, collect shopping, you know, real life. I’m not running out on you, don’t think that for a second, but there’ll be times you’re here by yourself and I want to know you can just get on with whatever you’re doing.”

In a sudden burst of temper, Ben swung the wheelchair around, accidentally crashing into the side of a cabinet and pushing himself away from it in a furious gesture.

“Benny…”

Ben repositioned the chair and wheeled away, clipping the door frame and swearing under his breath, which was, Ray conceded, different for the Mountie but not unexpected under these trying circumstances.

Ray followed Ben to the living room, where he sat, breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

“I think getting mad is a healthy reaction.”

“I don’t care what you think. You’re going to walk away…”

“No, I’m not.”

“When you go, just do me one last favour and leave your gun behind.”

“If you want something for self-defence…”

“Not for self-defence,” Ben snapped.

Momentarily stunned, Ray struggled to find the right words.

“I can’t believe you said that. Did you mean that?”

“You’re smart, and you’re not deaf. What do you think?”

“No, no, no, we’re not going there.” Ray crossed in front of the chair, kneeling down and gazing into Ben’s face, looking for… What was he looking for? Not honesty, not if it came with a side order of suicide. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

Ben tried to wheel himself away and Ray refused to let him, pulling the chair back to him.

“Does this mean I was right about the accident?” Ray demanded. “Was that already in your head before any of this happened?”

Once again Ben tried to reverse the chair out of Ray’s grip. Once again it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Autonomy and respect,” Ben sarcastically lectured.

“I can’t respect your autonomous right to off yourself.” Ben glared. “You want that for me? You want me to walk in here one day and find you and your brains in different parts of the room?”

Ray’s upset worked where any fight wouldn’t. The glare faded into sorrow and Ben grabbed at where Ray was holding onto the chair frame.

“I can’t live like this,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“Then…”

“No, you don’t get the gun. You get the psychiatrist, and the reassurance that you will…”

“I can’t live like this,” Ben repeated, as if he hadn’t heard a word that Ray had said.

“You haven’t tried.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then believe what the doctor told you, get off your lazy ass, and do something about it!”

The astonishment at Ray’s belligerent reply melted into appreciation, surprising both of them.

“I prefer you like this,” Ben confessed. “I’m sick of you pussyfooting around me. Sometimes I can hardly bear it, and all I want is Ray.”

That stung and Ray did his best to hide it; fortunately, Ben in his present state, didn’t care to notice.

“Kowalski?” Ray asked, trying to keep his voice light. “I can…”

“Vecchio,” Ben stressed, “the one— I’m extremely fond of the noisy, belligerent one. I did tell you. Did you think I was joking? I miss him.”

“And there was I, stupid enough to believe you needed kindness and understanding.”

“I think you changed when you were in Florida.”

“That’s great, coming from Mr Personality Transplant.”

“I hate to play the ‘I have a good reason’ card, but…”

“Yes, you do have a good reason.”

“How would you feel if this was you?”

“Devastated. It’d be huge. And I hope I’d have people around me patient and compassionate enough to help me through the worst of it. And I don’t mean by loading my gun.”

“But you wouldn’t give up?”

“No. Just like you’re not going to give up.” Ray let go of the chair and sat back on his heels, studying Ben’s flushed face and frightened eyes. “Eventually you’re going to tell me what I need to know about what happened to you before the accident. When I know what’s doing the damage I’ll help you deal with it, ‘cause I think that’s what’s feeding this reaction. Until then…” Ray sighed. “I’ll go move the bed.”

Back to work and making very sure his gun was with him, Ray was only minutes into what he was doing when he felt Ben’s presence in the doorway, silently watching as the mattress was tipped onto its side, and the head and foot boards were removed from the bed’s base.

“It’s not too late to leave it in here,” Ray told Ben, giving him the option of space after their flare up.

“I’d feel more comfortable if we were in the same room,” Ben replied sheepishly.

“That’s okay.”

Ray threw Ben a smile, being magnanimous enough, he suspected, to irritate the hell out of him.

“I’m sorry,” Ben offered quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. Florida may have changed me, but I still remember how to deal with assholes.”

In a surprising and somewhat baffling turnabout, Ray heard Ben giggling all the way back to the kitchen.

…

“I’m thinking…scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes and toast.”

“You don’t think…”

“You saw the women who prepped the place and stocked up on food, they look like they’d tamper with it?”

“Not at first sight.”

“Well, I doubt the IRF employs assassins.” Ray sighed. “You have to tell me what this is about. You’ve always been weird, but not paranoid.”

“Remember that old saying? It’s not paranoia if someone really is out to get you.”

“Who’s out there, Benny? I still have contacts, I’ll get them picked up.”

“It’s not that simple.”

In that split second Ray made the ongoing decision not to hound Ben over the mystery man, and went back to the food.

“I’ll do the rest but you make the eggs, you’ve always made the best scrambled eggs.”

Ben slapped on a determined face.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You know what’s actually not simple? If we have breakfast for dinner, what are we having for breakfast?”

They considered their choices.

“More of the same?” Ben ventured.

“Good call.”

Over dinner Ben fell back into the silence that had marked his time at the IRF. Ray chose not to engage or comment, just ate his food, moved on to coffee, and went into the living room to vegetate in front of the TV for a couple of hours. Ben eventually joined him, hating the noise from the TV so Ray muted it and turned on subtitles. Once again they spent time in silence, but it was not a peaceable silence. Ben was waiting, always on edge, listening and waiting.

It was with an intense feeling of guilt that Ray insisted on collecting his belongings from the car – even leaving the front door open for a couple of minutes to facilitate this caused Ben immeasurable stress. At any other time Ray would have offered Ben his gun to reassure him, but not now, not after the conversation they’d had.

“Lock yourself in the wet room.”

“That would be pathetic,” Ben grouched.

“But isn’t it coincidentally time for you to use the john?”

Ray saw the internal battle before Ben grasped the excuse he’d been handed, and locked himself in the wet room until Ray’s belongs were inside and the front door once again secured.

When the support workers arrived to help get Ben ready for the night, he faked a happy face and accepted their presence without comment or complaint, but Ray saw in his expression the anxiety that kept hammering home the wrongness, particularly his intense scrutiny of the male worker.

Washed and in his night clothes, but obviously having refused to be helped into bed, Ben saw his helpers out and immediately joined Ray, impatiently waiting for the sound on the TV to be muted again before he spoke.

“I don’t think I need them anymore. They were perfectly happy with my ability to take care of myself. I’ll call and cancel the support workers tomorrow.”

“You sure? Have you tried to shower by yourself?”

“Well, no, but the principle is much the same as using the toilet, or getting changed. You’ve seen the seat in the wet room, it enables a basic manoeuvre.”

“I guess if it proves too tricky I can take you in the garden and hose you down.”

Ben studied Ray for a moment, waiting for the objection.

“You’re not going to argue?”

“I’m here to help, but… It’s your life, Benny. Your decision.”

“Oh, now it’s my decision,” Ben confirmed.

“Yes. Missing a shower is somewhat different to hanging yourself from a coat hook.”

Ben pondered.

“I hadn’t considered that.”

“You better not, or I’ll unscrew every damn hook and protrusion in the place, and cut up every belt and rope on your uniform.”

“I don’t have my uniform.”

“You will when it’s delivered, and I’ll happily chop it to pieces to keep you safe.”

It took a while for Ben to give a slow nod, and Ray settled for that; it wasn’t like Ben to be dishonest so he’d have to trust him. Still, the subject of cancelling the support workers gave him an inroad for something he considered far more important.

“I won’t make a fuss about the helpers, but I want you to talk to a psychiatrist. Before you give me a flat no, please, Benny. The doctor was certain it would help, and if you won’t talk to me…”

“I will talk to you when I’m ready.”

“Will that be a month? Two? Six? A year?”

“Soon.”

“Is there something going on that, if you put it into words it becomes real?”

“We need to leave this now if I want to get any sleep at all tonight,” Ben said sharply.

Ray left it, as requested, but it didn’t stop his mind racing. He turned up the sound on the TV and pretended to watch, ignoring what he could see of Ben’s discomfort and twitchiness out of the corner of his eye.

…

Bedtime, and it quickly became obvious that Ben didn’t have a strategy for getting himself entirely into bed.

“The team at the hospital always got you in?” Ray asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

“And they offered to do that tonight and you sent them away.”

“Yes.”

“It’s going to be a long night in that chair.”

“You’ve made your point. Will you help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you, but maybe don’t dismiss them tomorrow? Not until you have all this worked out?”

“Like I said, you’ve made your point.”

Ben carried out the manoeuvre he could manage, moving to sit on the bed with only a little clumsiness; getting his legs into bed was the sticking point. Thinking back to how Ben had been assisted at the IRF, and recalling what he’d read in the information sheets, Ray managed. An arm under the knee, transferring the leg onto the bed, one and then the other, followed by an amount of shuffling and rearranging, and in no time Ben was tucked up and comfortable.

“See,” Ben said with a degree of smugness. “We don’t need their help.”

“What if I wasn’t here?”

“You are here.”

“What if I’m not always here at bedtime?”

And there was the predicted moment of alarm.

“You’re going somewhere?”

“No, I’m making another point. What if I’m out during the day and you want to rest?”

“I think I can figure it out for myself. I just need to work on my strength so I can pick my legs up the way you just did.”

“You can do that? Do you bend in all the right places to do that?”

“There’s also a sling over the bed, but…” Ray saw the doubt set in. “Maybe I won’t cancel the helpers until after I’ve had that conversation.”

Ray sat on his own bed and studied Ben.

“What?” Ben asked.

“Miriam was always going to get you one of these places, I mean, she was absolutely determined you needed to be out of the IRF to get better.”

“And?”

“You’d have ended up having to manage all this by yourself.” Ben was already shaking his head. “Seriously, Benny, what would you have done if I hadn’t turned up? You didn’t know I’d be here.”

“I knew.”

“But Miriam told me you didn’t know she was coming to find me.”

“I knew she would once I told her a few suitably emotive facts.”

“Wow. You conned her?”

“Not conned exactly.” Ben thought. “Yes, I conned her.”

“I’m appalled and…actually, pretty impressed.”

“It got you here.”

“Yeah,” Ray admitted with a grin, “it certainly did.”

…

Later, as he watched Ben pretend to sleep, Ray analysed their day. He didn’t think he was far wrong if he assumed that, for Ben, it had been momentous, and scary, and challenging, and life-changing. For himself… It was all a means to an end, and the end was Ben, mentally and physically healthy, back on his feet and not wanting a gun in his hand to blow his brains out.

Ray’s thoughts returned time and again to their earlier conversation, nit-picking it to pieces until he’d come to a conclusion that satisfied him. He turned to Ben.

“However desperate you feel at any one point in time, you’re not going to kill yourself.”

“No?”

“No.”

“How do you work that out?”

“I don’t think you hate me. And I think you’d have to hate me to bring me here to witness that.”

Ben didn’t answer. As far as Ray was concerned he didn’t have to. Sometimes you believed what you told yourself in order to sleep at night, and he had to believe this.

The Lesser Distance 6       The Lesser Distance Index       Notes

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