Page 44 of The Crowing of Hell
“But limb pain and the stump getting sore? Whatabout blisters forming?”
“The socket is made of a silicone that stops sweat building and therefore, slippage doesn’t happen from sores. Also, blisters are non-existent with this type. A special coating is sprayed on once a month to keep the socket working as it does. I’ve not had a sore or blister since swapping to this. Plus, I take good care of it,” Rooster explained.
I hesitated over the next question but asked anyway. “Phantom pain?”
“That’s real. Not as frequent as when the amputation was new. I get it four or five times a week now. An excruciating pain that shoots through me and can last several hours. But when I was on the ordinary prosthetic, I was in agony daily. Meds didn’t touch it. Now it is more manageable,” Rooster replied.
“I like it.”
“Yeah?” Rooster asked, shocked.
“Yes, its shape mimics a leg, doesn’t it? But it’s also neatly constructed and certainly something from sci-fi,” I said. I checked Rooster out and then surprised him some more. “Maybe one day you can show me how to care for your stump?”
Rooster’s mouth opened and closed, and he gazed at me in wonderment and then disbelief.
“Kendara, you’d touch it?”
“Sure? Why not? That wound on my head. Nobody’s discussed it, but we know it’s left a deep scar down my hairline. Would you avoid touching me there? Or if I have a c-section? Would you avoid that scar? Or get breast cancer and have a full mastectomydone. Would you avoid touching me there as well? It’s a wound, Rooster, nothing more, nothing less. And yeah, it is a big deal, you lost your leg below the knee. But it doesn’t subtract from the man you are today,” I answered.
“Shit, you mean that,” Rooster whispered.
“Of course I do.”
“Dad!” Kit bellowed from the dining room, jolting us both.
“Come on, Kenny, the animals are waiting to eat,” Rooster said, offering me a genuine smile.
Happily, I hauled myself out of the chair and went to join him. Somehow, it felt like everything had just changed.
???
Nothing happened after dinner, despite me wanting something to. The boys were in high spirits, and Rooster got out Monopoly. There, I learned another lesson.Do not play Monopoly with them.It was a bloodbath. The four of them were sharks. I was bankrupt by round three and shaking my head at how cutthroat they were. Even Brax switched into somebody different. With dignity, I bowed out and watched as Kit barely romped home the winner. Rooster was second, Brax third, and good-natured Finn was a grouch in fourth place.
As he lost, Finn got to pick the film, and before I could say I hated horrors, Finn had picked one called Dead Silence. Within ten minutes, I had crawled across the sofa and sat myself in Rooster’s lap. Therest of the movie was spent with me squealing and hiding and the four of them teasing me that Mary would get me too.
Afterwards, Rooster put on one of his favourite films, Battleship, and I fell to sleep before the end.
Waking in my bed alone was disappointing but also expected. Rooster wouldn’t force himself on a woman. After washing and dressing in some of the clothes Clio and the old ladies had bought for me, I met my four boys in the kitchen. I paused on the threshold; when had I started thinking of them as mine?
Rooster was cooking, and the kids were chatting, and I clutched at the scene in front of me. I wanted to remember this forever.
“Morning babe, everything okay?” Rooster asked, and I realised I was staring, and they were looking straight back.
“Yes, sorry. Need coffee,” I groused.
“Your vanilla mocha is right here, Kenny. Dad’s making pancakes,” Kit said, patting the island where they all sat with glasses of orange juice in front of them.
“Nice,” I responded appreciatively. I loved pancakes smothered with cream and syrup.
“Could I ask a favour? I have to go and see my lawyer and run a couple of errands. Would you be okay watching the boys today?” Rooster asked.
“Sure. If you can tell me what they’re allowed to do and not do,” I replied, sipping my coffee. “Oh Lord, Kit,” I groaned, “this is so good!”
“Wow,” Rooster said, no doubt in response to the ecstasy on my face.
“Seriously tasty shit,” I added.
“Seems so. Well done, bud, ten years old, and you’ve already put that look on a woman,” Rooster quipped and chuckled.