He found himself tumbled into a car accident, that curious land between waking and sleep, where both of his legs were left in ruins. And that was all there was, or so it seemed
A fine career, the promise of a managing directors chair and a heavy salary in pounds sterling. An escape to a Lake District ski resort with his wife. Weekends dotted with laughter at the pub among old friends. All of it drifted away.
They returned his legs to him, sewn together like patchwork, and sent him home. There was little else to do, save waiting for luck and the good Lord, as the English say. He did just that, though at night his cries echoed against the bedroom walls. Only the morning and evening injections would grant him a few winks of rest.
For months, the bed was his entire kingdom. Even the simplest matters called for the help of his wife may she be blessed a thousandfold. The commode sat beside him like a silent conspirator. When at last he tried rising, placing anxious hands on the walker, pain arrived anew, as if multiplied behind each shadowy step.
Have you, ladies and gentlemen, known the subtle cruelty of a jab to the stomach, a necessary spell against clots and bedsores when you become, in effect, part of the mattress? You cease to sneeze or cough or, forgive me, visit the lavatory as you once did. The ordeal requires nerves of steel but leaves none behind.
Yet somehow, time crawled forward, and he began relearning to walk, each stride a precarious gamble with balance. The world spun and staggered with every hesitant footfall, but it was, at least, motion.
Friends, however, had vanished into the mist, not a call nor card nor cheerful knock at the door. The role at the company and the hope of directorship passed quickly to another. No one could say when his trials might conclude, or whether they ever truly would.
Forgive the poor mood. He found himself facing down the dull future of invalidity, and only the blessing that his wife had not abandoned him kept him tethered.
The very first time he hobbled out into the street on crutches, accompanied by his watchful wife, the sunlight battered against his eyes, so sharp and foreign it knocked the breath from his lungs. Unashamed, he wept then just another forgotten shadow of a man on battered sticks.
His wife stepped back, giving him a moments solitude in the breeze, and he tried, with a wince, to take a few steps through the chilly spring air, the world feeling nearly transparent.
From below, a mewing cry demanded attention. By his left crutch, a tiny grey kitten had materialised, as they do in dreams.
What do you want? he asked, gentler than he realised.
Animals had slipped off the edge of his life, and he was at a loss as to how to engage with them. The kitten gazed up, little eyes full of expectant hunger.
Could you fetch him a bit of sausage, love? the man said to his wife.
She soon returned, and with careful hands, he crouched down a little unsteady to offer the treat. The kitten greeted him with a grave nod and began to dine as if the meal had come from Westminster.
The next morning, when he and his wife emerged into the garden, groans still hitching with each step, three cats awaited, expectant and patient, as though theyd been there all night.
You lot are determined, arent you? he chuckled, and, for a flicker, even the pain set him free. His wife, pretending protest, produced three sausages, and, wincing, he stooped to hand one to each feline.
By the following day, five cats had appeared and with them, two sprightly terriers. His wife scolded with a mix of good humour and mild alarm, but the man insisted she fetch a kilo of bangers from the shop round the corner, and distributed them amongst the assembled crowd.
After their feast, the animals twirled around the man on crutches, ushering him into their makeshift revelry. He found himself laughing in spite of himself, attempting a few ungainly steps while the little dogs yapped in delight.
The next day dawned wet and peevish, rain tapping at the bricks. His wife threatened, in stern jest, to confiscate his crutches, but he dug his heels in and shuffled to the street for the first time in months. “They’re waiting for me, he explained. How can I let them down? I owe them this much.
So, he came. The five cats, with two little dogs beside, circled him in a spirited dance, joy shivering through the drizzle. The man gave chase, raincoat flapping, as dogs and cats dashed about under watchful clouds. At the edge of the scene stood his wife, holding an umbrella and a secret smile.
As days turned to weeks, the crutches were reduced to just one, then vanished, deemed superfluous in these new games. Only then did the man notice his legs had not hurt in such a long time.
His job or what once was his job required no return from him. The companys doors had swung open for another, and with a handsome redundancy cheque, the man stepped away, awash in free time. He decided to write to record all that had happened. For some reason, it became a play, full and sprawling.
With the last page finished, he took it to the citys theatres and met only polite refusals, save for one tiny community theatre down a flight of stairs. A week later, the director rang:
Well do it,” he said. “But well need to trim and rework bits here and there.
So, for a month, the man and the director bickered their way through edits over endless mugs of tea. Another month passed, and opening night was set.
Fifteen people scattered through an intimate room with a pocket-sized stage. Not even half the seats filled but for the man, these fifteen were an audience fit for a king.
He fretted and avoided the audiences gaze. When the curtain fell and silence sprawled over the small hall, all hope drained from him. The quiet pressed for what felt like ages though it lasted only seconds before, suddenly, thunderous applause ruptured the stillness. The actors grinned and bowed until they were called back for more.
The second night was sold out. People stood in the aisle and clustered in the corridor, applause shaking the very rafters until the threadbare curtain nearly gave up altogether.
Soon, the company booked a larger venue, the city’s grand hall, and gathered eager theatregoers to debate the rising stars next play.
The man bought himself a splendid new suit, and each time he bowed, he did so with his wife on his arm for how could it be any other way?
And what became of the two little dogs and five cats, you may wonder? Well, he and his wife took in two dogs and two cats; devoted fans adopted the rest.
What does this story mean? Perhaps very little. Or perhaps its about those moments when you look down and find eyes filled with hope at your feet, and discover you simply cannot fall because you must stand your ground.
