Something Like Thunder (48 page)

“That was beyond awkward,” he said. “I’m going to start wearing long flowing dresses to hide my secret shame.”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about,” Nathaniel grumbled.

“It was a joke.”

Nathaniel turned to him. “Aren’t you sick of this?”

“Yes,” Kelly replied. “Of course. What can I do about it? Become a scientist and develop a cure for stupidity?”

“You’ve got options.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not doing this for kicks. The leg is gone for good.”

“What about prosthetics?”

“You know I already tried that. We’ve talked about this. It was uncomfortable and—”

“—you gave up after a week. Or did you even make it that long?”

Kelly’s lips tightened. “Tell you what, genius, why don’t I saw your leg off above the knee and we’ll see just how cozy a fiberglass shell crammed halfway up your ass feels. Then you can lecture me all day long about—”

“Shut up.”

“—about how easy it is to pop on a peg leg and prance around the room. And if you think I’m changing who I am because the occasional idiot mistakes me for a veteran, and because
you
think I’m incomplete, you can shove it up your—”

“Kelly!” Nathaniel pleaded. “Shut. Up. Now! When have I ever said you were incomplete, or treated you as if you were helpless or anything but perfect?”

Kelly’s nostrils flared, but he calmed down.

“News flash,” Nathaniel continued, “I want the best for you. If you were smoking, I’d be pressuring you to quit. If you started snorting white powder, or throwing your money away, or eating fast food three times a day, I would step forward and ask you to think about what’s best for you. That’s all I’m doing right now. You tried once while in the throes of trauma. Maybe it’s worth another shot.”

“I’m fine how I am,” Kelly said. “Except for the occasional embarrassing assumption, I’m good.”

Nathaniel grabbed one of the suitcase handles, leaving the other where it was. “In that case, pull your own luggage.”

Kelly snorted and did just that. Both pieces of luggage had wheels, so he could roll his along without carrying it. He was forced to yank it with each swing of his arms, and while that couldn’t be comfortable, he was managing.

“Good,” Nathaniel said. “Now take out your phone and call your brother. We need to know if he’s picking us up.”

Kelly paused, reaching into his coat for his phone.

Nathaniel kept walking. “Come on, I don’t have all day. Let’s go.”

Kelly glared defiantly and resumed walking. He pinned one crutch under an arm, freeing a hand so he could get at his phone. This forced him to hop, and with the luggage pulling on him from behind, he only managed a few steps before he stumbled.

Nathaniel reached out to support him, feeling horrible for putting him in this situation. Seeing Kelly vulnerable made his heart ache. “What if you were on your own and about to miss your flight?” he asked. “Or worse, what if some crazy asshole is chasing after you and you need to call the police? Homophobes are cowards by nature, and if they perceive you as an easy target…”

Kelly’s eyes were fierce as they locked with Nathaniel’s, but after a moment his features softened.

“If anyone comes after me,” he said gently, “I’m probably faster on my crutches than I would be on a fake leg.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “It’s not just my stupid fears, and it’s not about how other people perceive you. I don’t know how to express it without it sounding trite, but there are times when I want to give the world to you. Everything good in life, I want you to have it. I think this might be one of those things.”

Kelly sighed. “Have you done your research? Prosthetic legs are like buying a car. Past the hefty price tag, there’s maintenance and repairs when things break, and even then it won’t last forever.”

“If money wasn’t an issue…” Nathaniel prompted.

Kelly smirked. “There’s not going to be a fake leg under the Christmas tree next week, is there?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, and money is
always
an issue.”

“Just for the sake of argument, if it wasn’t, would you at least give it another try?”

“Yeah,” Kelly said, “but—”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Royal calling their names. Kelly’s brother being here meant a certain dog was too. Zero leapt at him from behind, causing Nathaniel to stumble forward. He got down on his knees so he could hug the squirming mutt and kiss his furry face. Being apart always reminded Nathaniel how much he loved the dog. Separation could work wonders in that regard. He would experience that soon with Kelly, who would be returning to his parents’ house, allowing them to decompress after being so close. All it would take is that one night apart, and Nathaniel would start missing him again. He glanced up. Kelly was talking with his brother, but he sensed Nathaniel’s gaze and met his eye. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, agreeing to give it one more try.

* * * * *

Deceit plays a part in every relationship. Lately, Nathaniel had worked hard to make sure Kelly didn’t know the truth. This new leg of his, state-of-the-art technology that they had travelled to Berlin to acquire, was a gift from Ottobock, the corporation that produced it. Kelly was taking part in a test program that Marcello’s connections had gained access to. This was the story Nathaniel had concocted, and while most of it was accurate, the truth was much more expensive. Ottobock wasn’t handing them a prosthetic leg for free. Marcello had offered to cover the expense, but Nathaniel insisted on paying because he wanted to do this for Kelly. He also insisted that fact remain a secret. The truth might make Kelly feel obligated to wear the leg, even if he hated it, and Nathaniel certainly didn’t expect gratitude. If Kelly believed the leg hadn’t cost a thing, he could accept or reject the new prosthetic without concern.

Nathaniel still expected a lot of bang for his buck. He needed this thing to make all of Kelly’s dreams come true, so when they reported to the Competence Center—as Ottobock called the private consulting area of its Berlin headquarters—Nathaniel refused to sit. Instead he remained standing, occasionally flexing his hands into fists. If all of the company’s claims were merely snake oil, heads would roll. That would be a shame because the German woman helping them, Inga, was very likeable.

Yesterday she had been welcoming and patient with them. Today she was helping attach Kelly’s new prosthetic. This involved a plastic cup-shaped object that suctioned over the end of his stump. The prosthetic itself attached to this. Nathaniel had to admit it looked nice. He had done his research so wasn’t surprised, but he was glad it didn’t try to duplicate the appearance of a real leg, or resemble something the Terminator would lurch around on. Instead it was sleek and black, not unlike the guy now attached to it.

“Ready to stand?” Inga said, rolling backward on a small stool, balancing bars to either side of her.

This made room for Kelly, who was seated in front of her. “Okay,” he said, flashing an uncertain smile. Then he stood. That was no miracle. Nathaniel had often seen him stand without his crutches. Kelly grabbed the balancing bars for support.

“One step at a time,” Inga said in her lightly accented English. “Don’t rush! You need to let the knee bend on its own. It knows what to do.”

Kelly grunted, but not from effort. Nathaniel could read him well enough to recognize his impatience. He no longer held on to the balancing bars. Each of his steps seemed to take no effort at all. If Inga wasn’t standing in his way and coaching him, Kelly would probably be sprinting by now. Nathaniel had been careful not to tell him, not to get his hopes up, but this prosthetic had been designed for the military, and soldiers needed to do much more than amble around.

“Stay patient,” Nathaniel said.

“Yes,” Inga agreed. “You must be patient. But I think you are ready.”

Finally she set him free and rolled out of his way. She didn’t seem poised to rescue him if need be, confident in the product. Kelly took a few steps, then his face lit up. After that he walked without a care in the world. At the end of the bars, he turned smoothly, doing a little jig as he walked the length again. No crutches, his long-fingered hands not forced to grip a plastic handle. Instead they waved in the air, Kelly acting silly in celebration. Nathaniel felt pretty damn happy too, which nearly had him crying. He swallowed against this, forcing himself to calm down. Even happy tears might send the wrong signal or make Kelly feel pressured to choose this as his new lifestyle.

Inga stood, holding out her hands. “Would you like to try without support?”

For Kelly the question was rhetorical. He kept walking past the bars, Inga backing up to keep pace with him until her back hit the wall. Then she laughed.

“Very good!” she said. “You’re a quick learner.”

“By the end of the day, I’ll be running laps,” Kelly joked.

“Jogging?” Inga asked, worried by the suggestion. “Not today. Maybe in a week, you can try.”

“Not on this leg,” Kelly said. “The Genium doesn’t support running.”

“
Icks tsfy
,” Inga responded.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. The leg you have, it’s a… uh… X2.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Kelly said.

“The X2 leg is designed in cooperation with the United States military.” Inga put an arm around him, leading Kelly back toward the bars. “Right now it is for soldiers, but in the future, there will be a civilian release too.”

“But what you’re saying,” Kelly said, “is that I can run on this leg. The one I’ve got on right now.”

Inga nodded. “Yes. Of course. Just not now.”

“Not now because it hasn’t been developed fully, or—”

“You must learn to walk,” Inga said, sounding stern. “You must train. Once you have, you can run with the leg you are now wearing.”

Kelly’s head shot up, eyes searching him out. Nathaniel swallowed again and nodded. Kelly stared a little longer, grinning like Nathaniel had done something clever. He was still smiling when he turned back to Inga.

“Bear with me,” Kelly said, “but when you say run, do you mean I’ll dawdle along at a respectable rate, or that I’ll be hauling ass like I used to?”

“
Mein Gott
,” Inga said to herself. “
Ist das so schwer zu glauben
?”

“Okay,” Kelly said with a mad laugh. “That sounded irritated enough to convince me.

Nathaniel headed for the door. When two heads turned to him in confusion, he muttered that he needed to use the men’s room. Once he was in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall and exhaled, trying to get himself under control emotionally. What he felt wasn’t pride or satisfaction for having done a good deed. He didn’t even know if what he felt had a name because seeing Kelly happy, seeing him get the good things he deserved, felt like God had stepped in to correct his own mistakes. Nathaniel took no credit for that. Chance had led him to his current position in life. But he was grateful. To anyone out there listening, he gave thanks.

* * * * *

Kelly refused to sit. Even while riding the U-Bahn—the underground train that snaked beneath the city—Kelly stood, only occasionally grabbing a pole for support. He wasn’t talking much. He kept his full attention on his body as he readjusted his sense of balance. Nathaniel couldn’t imagine living through such an experience, but he assumed it was going well because Kelly kept flashing him a smile.

They arrived in Kreuzberg, just far enough from the center of Berlin to have local flavor. Winter wasn’t tourist season in Germany, so they were mostly surrounded by natives who treated them like idiots for not being able to speak German, and often responded in English with an air of superiority. Nathaniel loved it. Finally he was seeing an authentic part of the country. They bumbled through alternative shops, were approached on the street by a strange person with an offer they couldn’t understand, and stopped for a late breakfast at a burger place that didn’t seem to offer any meat. They slowly made their way on foot to the East Side Gallery, where a section of the Berlin Wall stood as a memorial.

“I thought it would be bigger,” Kelly said musingly. “As in taller. I’m pretty sure I could pole vault this sucker.”

“Easy now,” Nathaniel said. “You’re not the Bionic Man.”

“I might be. Seriously though. I was thinking it would be more like the Great Wall of China.”

“Just try to enjoy the art,” Nathaniel suggested.

They strolled the length of the memorial wall, each section covered in painted murals. The styles varied greatly, although most made a political statement of some sort. They stopped in front of one depicting two former Communist leaders kissing.

“Up against the wall,” Nathaniel said, reaching for his camera bag.

Kelly smirked. “Sounds promising.” He walked up to the wall and turned around. “Aren’t there enough photos of me in the world already?”

“No. I need more.”

“So these aren’t for Marcello?”

“Nope.”

“Then maybe we should take a selfie,” Kelly said. “Try to recreate the art behind us.”