Page 41 of Wish We Were There

He glanced at Parker, who gave him an encouraging smile. It was so stupid—he felt like a child, having to be assuaged that he wouldn’t be harmed. But it wasn’t that he was worried about being hurt. The thought of finally being without the cast filled him with... He couldn’t even name the feeling, only that his stomach churned with nausea. Like once the cast was off, his life would be irrevocably changed in a way that he would never get back.

“Ready,” he replied faintly, holding out his arm. The saw clicked on, its loud whirr filling the room. Parker’s hand squeezed his—he hadn’t even noticed Parker reaching for it. His breathing sped up as the nurse gingerly grasped his arm with the other hand, tilting it slightly to get a better angle, before pressing the saw onto it. She started near his elbow, and he could feel the vibrations of it buzzing up through his shoulder. It did mostly tickle, with some pressure as the saw bit through the hard outer shell and pressed into the soft bandages below.

A choked laugh escaped him at the strange feeling, but his eyes were stinging with tears. This part of his life was really over—the last remnant of his life before Zach died would be gone.

It’s over, he thought, watching her slowly press the saw further down his arm, inch by careful inch. When they’d put the cast on him, he hadn’t known yet that Zach was dead. They didn’t tell him until after he was fully treated.

It was all he’d had left of his time with Zach, and he could finally name the emotion flooding his chest as grief, mourning the strange finality of it. He missed Zach, not as his husband, but as his friend. He thought he’d made his peace with it, but maybe some part of him had still been holding on to the memory, hiding away in his subconscious, tied to the image of himself in a cast on that early morning after the crash.

What must Parker think of him? Did he think Taylor was a baby, on the verge of tears from something seemingly so simple and painless? Had he somehow picked up on its connection to Zach, and was now wondering if everything Taylor had told him was a lie? He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man, his mind racing with all the awful possibilities, unable to bear the prospect of Parker looking at him now with derision.

“Alright, done with the saw,” the nurse said once all the plaster was cracked open in a neat line. Her eyes flickered up to his face, and her brow contorted with worry. “Oh, hon, what’s the matter?”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. His voice quavered, and he cleared his throat before adding, “I’m okay. Go ahead.”

She hesitated for a moment, then set down the saw. Beside him, Parker leaned closer, now holding Taylor’s hand in both of his. Taylor almost flinched away, but his touch was gentle enough to be soothing, yet still firm enough to show his support.

“Almost done,” he said softly, his voice only nurturing, only caring. “You’re okay.”

He was still the same sweet, thoughtful Parker as always—it wasn’t fair of Taylor to assume he’d be otherwise. Taylor watched the nurse set aside the saw and pull out what looked like a pair of pliers, but with a broader, blunt tip.

“This will spread the cast apart, to make it easier to cut the bandages and pull everything off,” she explained, still using the same light tone. “Again, nothing should hurt, but you might feel a little pressure as the cast opens up. Sure you don’t need a break?”

“No, I’m alright,” he said. His heart was beating painfully fast in his chest, and his eyes still stung with unshed tears; but now that the process had started, he just wanted it over with—like ripping off a bandaid. She set to work, prying the now-split edges of the cast further apart. It squeezed his arm as the gap widened, and despite himself, he tried wiggling his wrist just a bit, the sensation strange and new with how long it had been held immobile in the cast.

“Alright. Last is the scissors,” she continued, holding up a pair of scissors with the blade at an angle so they could press against his skin safely. “With the angle, none of the sharp parts should touch you, but I’ll go slow and you tell me if you feel a pinch or anything. Ready?”

He nodded, and she slipped the blade beneath the layer of soft cotton bandages. The scissors sliced through it easily. In just a few clips of the blade, the cotton was fully split, and his arm was visible underneath. The nurse gently pulled the mess of bandage and plaster away, and he could see his bare arm for the first time in months.

It was visibly skinnier than his other forearm now, and the skin between his wrist and his elbow was dry and pink. He tentatively flexed his wrist, and his long-dormant muscles ached with disuse, making his heart sink. Had he waited too long? Would he ever be able to play the piano again?

The nurse must have been able to read the despair in his expression as she cleaned up the debris of the cast, placing it all in a disposal bin. “I see a bit of loss of muscle tone, but that’s not unusual for how long you had it in the cast. I’ll have the doctor come in to see if you need physical therapy, and she can send a referral today if she decides you need it. That dry skin is totally normal, too, and should clear up a lot after a few washes. Just make sure to use a gentle lotion. You’ll probably have some muscle pain for the first day or two as your arm wakes up, but any kind of regular painkiller should keep it manageable. Any pain will go away on its own in time, so don’t worry too much, hon.”

“Do you think...” he croaked out, tears threatening to spill from his eyelids now. “Do you think I’ll play piano again?”

She sighed, sympathy flaring in her eyes. “Well, the doctor will probably be able to give you a better assessment than me, but I think you probably will. You just have to give it time, just like how you had to give it time to heal. The muscle has to build back up, but your muscle memory is still all there.”

He nodded, sniffling. Finally, he tore his eyes away from the sad sight of his forearm and looked at Parker. The other man smiled at him tentatively, squeezing his hand again.

“You did it!” he said in a soft, cheering tone. Taylor laughed, but it morphed into a cry—his arm ached as he instinctively raised it to cover his mouth. “Aw, Taylor... It’s okay.”

He nodded, but couldn’t quite stop the tears now that they’d broken the barrier. He leaned closer to Parker, who released his grip on Taylor’s free hand to instead wrap his arms around Taylor’s frame, hugging him tightly as he tried to stifle his cries in Parker’s shoulder. The other man was murmuring something soft and comforting in his ear, but he couldn’t make it out over the rush of emotion flooding through him.

His life had changed completely. The rushing undercurrent of it’s over, it’s over repeated in his mind to the rhythm of his pounding heart, the only thing he could really make sense of in the painful jumble of emotions. There was no going back now.

“You’re gonna play again, Taylor,” Parker was saying gently when he could focus again. He was rubbing Taylor’s back in soothing circles with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around his waist. “You’re gonna be able to play in time for the last show, then you’ll be able to play whenever you want, for whatever you want to do afterward. Everything’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Taylor squeezed him back, hugging him desperately. How could he have ever thought Parker would see him with anything other than the same kindness and support he’d always had? They held each other for a long moment, until Taylor thought he might be able to speak without bursting into tears again.

“S-Sorry,” he finally choked out, leaning back and releasing Parker so he could wipe his eyes. The other man had a dark spot on his shirt where Taylor’s tears had dampened the fabric, but he only had eyes for Taylor, watching him attentively. “I’m, uh, I’m okay. It was... I mean, I don’t really know how to—how to put it into words, you know?”

Parker’s eyes took on a knowing, sympathetic expression. “Yeah. I understand.”

The nurse must have stepped out while Taylor was crying, because it was only the two of them in the room now.

“She said she’ll be back in a minute,” Parker said, noticing him looking around. He was still rubbing Taylor’s back, and Taylor leaned closer to him again, reaching for his other hand. “And the doctor will come by to talk to you about physical therapy. So don’t worry about it too much for now, okay?”

“It’s not that,” Taylor replied, shaking his head. “Well... Maybe partly. But... I don’t know. We can talk about it later.”

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