I’d called the nursing home and made arrangements with the social worker to have a TV delivered to Curt’s room. On my next visit, I gathered up all the pictures I had of Curt that spanned his childhood and teens. And I enlarged a photo of the two of us sitting on our dirt bikes, posing. In addition to the photos, I also bought two poster-size photos of dirt bikes—something that Curt loved.
I replaced those Easter decorations with pictures that were familiar to Curt. I also enfivened his room with cacti and other plants that were easy to care for.
“Good morning,” the nurse said when she came in, casting a sweeping gaze over the pictures and plants. I stood up to leave, intending to give her some privacy to do whatever it was she did. “You don’t have to leave; his care nurse washed him up and changed him early this morning. I came to check his bandages,” she said, lifting up the blanket that covered him.
“Why does he have bandages?”
“Decubitus wounds.”
I frowned. “Bed sores?”
“It’s very common for people that lie in bed twenty- four hours a day.”
“Do they hurt?”
“They would hurt if he had any feeling in his legs.”
“I guess that’s good, then.”
She pointed to the dirt bike posters. “Are you sure that’s in good taste? Wasn’t he riding one of those things when he got hurt?”
“He loved dirt bikes. It wasn’t the dirt bike that did this to him; the people that opened fire on him put him in this situation.”
“He was only twenty or twenty-one back, then.. .right?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah, he was twenty. I was a year older.” I looked down briefly. “I was riding with him when it happened.”
She nodded, and continued checking his legs and feet. “His wounds are healing,” she said with a smile and then walked over to the pictures that I’d framed and placed on the wall.
“Is that Curtis?” she asked, staring at one of the pictures of him and me posing on our bikes at the plateau in Fairmount Park.
“Yeah, that’s us.”
“Look at you two handsome boys...I know you were driving the girls crazy,” she said with laughter. Then she gave me a certain look. “And I bet you still are.”
I laughed along with her and cut an eye at Curt, and I could have sworn that he wore a faint smile.