Purple Hearts(52)

“Do you have a caregiver lined up?” Yarvis asked.

Cassie and I looked at each other. “You mean, like a nurse?” Cassie asked.

“No,” I answered. “We don’t.”

“Not yet,” Cassie added.

“But all that sounds great.” I swallowed, hoping that was the right thing to say.

Fern nodded. “Then we leverage available resources from government, nonprofit, and community organizations. The SC reaches out to the resource, describes the family’s situation, ensures a solution is available, and then serves as an ongoing advocate until the solution is delivered.”

Whoa, I wanted to say. Slow down.

Cassie spoke. “You say ‘ongoing advocate.’ How long does this process usually take?”

“It depends on how quickly the government resources respond. But we’re pretty good about it in San Antonio. A month at best.”

A month? Would I even need in-home help by then?

“Oh. We’ll be in Austin,” Cassie said. “Is that a problem?”

Fern looked at Yarvis. “Not at all. I’ll print off a list of organizations in Austin.”

Fern went across the hall to the small bank of computers and printers available for patient use. I took a deep breath, and gave Cassie a look that I hoped was reassuring. She pressed her lips into a small smile in return. Maybe Fern was overestimating the time it all took, just to be safe. Maybe all of this would be quick and easy. Fern returned with a big smile, holding a few papers before saying her good-byes.

“I’ll be in my office until I have a home visit at two,” Yarvis said. “Holler when you need me, and I’ll help you—you know—navigate.”

He stood, took another sip of coffee, and limped away.

Cassie pulled the list of options toward her, and then, after a moment, slid them toward me. I noticed she had painted her nails a vivid red, and they looked longer. Except for the thumbnail. It was still bitten down to a stub and the damage looked recent. Made sense.

“A month. And until then we just . . . deal?”

I shrugged.

“Well?” she said, gesturing to the stack.

I began to read:

A Million Thanks

Able Forces—Executive Level Jobs

African American Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Association

After Deployment

Aggie Veterans—Texas A & M University

Air Compassion for Veterans

Air Force Sergeants Association South Central Divisions

Airlift Hope

I scanned the Bs, the Cs, all the way through the end of the list.

“Most of these don’t even apply to me,” I said.

Cassie sighed.

“Wha—” I began, and stopped. I was about to ask, What should we do? but I looked at Cassie’s eyes, reading the list with confusion, her leg twitching under the table. When we’d agreed to this arrangement, she hadn’t signed up for playing nurse, or providing transportation to and from a hospital in Austin where I could do PT. “What do you think I should do?”

She shrugged, biting her thumbnail. “You’re the veteran in question.”

“Yeah, but it’s your house.”

“Apartment,” she corrected.

“Right.” God, I hoped there was enough room for a wheelchair to move around. I wanted to ask her, but it wouldn’t make a difference either way. We’d still be living there.

She scanned the list, and looked back at me. “I don’t think you’re going to like my answer.”

“What?”

She scooted her chair closer to me. I could smell her cucumber shampoo. She got quiet. “I say we avoid all this paperwork as much as possible.”

“Go on,” I said.

She looked over her shoulder and turned back to me, continuing. “I mean, if you’re okay with it, I could just do the stuff you need until you’re able to move around on your own. We have the exercises in your file.”

I started to play with the idea. “We go off the grid.”

“Exactly.” Her gaze was intent on me. “That way we don’t have a paper trail to deal with when we want to divorce. Like all these forms that she was talking about? I’m going to be registered as your spouse.”

She waved her hand, dismissing that part, but my stomach still jumped whenever anyone, including Cassie herself, referred to us as husband and wife. Her face had gotten a little red, too.

“And if it all goes through, someone will be in the house with us. A lot. That’s another person to fool. Then when we split, they’re going to need a whole new round of paperwork, right?” She held up the list. “And then there might be some programs you might not even be eligible for anymore, et cetera, et cetera.”

I voiced what I had thought earlier. “Plus I might be walking again by the time we even get enrolled.”

“True!” she said. “So I say we say fuck it. Get through the next month or so until your discharge, we part ways, and then, if you still need help, you can apply for it then.”

I nodded, considering. I was glad I hadn’t taken another pill. This plan would have gone over my head, and I would have been happy to let it. “Yeah, why bring in more people and institutions that we have to lie to?”

“Bingo.” Cassie leaned back, a contented smile on her face. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Her smile then turned into a quizzical look. “You’re good at listening. When you want to be.”