I Escaped the Karma and Waited for Spring to Bloom

Start Reading

To save Amanda Harding, I lost my leg in a car crash.

She took care of me for three years.

Then, out of nowhere, she fell in love with soccer.

Every time I woke and she wasn't there, my separation anxiety flared up again, and I swallowed most of a bottle of pills.

It wasn't until she came home that night that I asked, my eyes red.

"You said you'd always be here with me, didn't you?"

Impatience flickered in her eyes.

"You can't play soccer anyway. Just be good and wait for me at home."

"Behave, and next time I'll come back early and bring you a present."

But I was tired of waiting at home.

So I had someone film her at the field and send me the video.

During a break, the guy she played with, her close male friend, asked her.

"Doesn't your boyfriend have separation anxiety?"

"You're okay leaving him home alone to wait?"

Amanda spun the water bottle in her hand and gave a mocking little laugh.

"A cripple with one leg gone. Does he really think faking sick can chain me to him for life?"

"My legs aren't broken. Why would I rot away beside him?"

I gripped the phone with the video still playing.

I had never once wanted to chain her to me for life.

If she'd been sick of me all along, then I'd set her free.

The two of them finished their game.

Arms slung around each other, they headed off to get a room.

"Amanda, didn't you say you wanted to be free?"

"Then tonight we go all the way free."

"Change locations and keep working up a sweat."

Amanda didn't refuse. Instead she pinned Elwin Stevens against the wall.

"You little tease, you're the one who came on to me."

"Whoever loses tonight calls the other one daddy."

I knew that hotel.

Three hundred meters east of the soccer field.

That was where Amanda and I had our first time.

Now they were going inside.

And the video cut off right there.

The sudden silence left me a little dizzy.

I looked down at my leg.

Below the knee, my right pant leg hung empty, folded against the footrest of the wheelchair.

The year of the crash I was twenty-four, she was twenty-two.

Afterward, countless people studied and reconstructed the accident scene, over and over.

If I hadn't lunged forward and pulled Amanda back.

If I hadn't taken the hit for her.

The wheel would have crushed her head right there on the spot.

She would have died there. It wouldn't have been as simple as one broken leg.

But after that crash.

The doctor said I would never walk again.

Amanda knelt at my hospital bed and cried the whole night through.

"Win, I'll take care of you for the rest of my life."

Thinking back now, for those three years she really did take care of me down to the smallest thing.

Bringing me water, feeding me, wheeling me out into the sun, carrying me to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

She quit her job and scraped together our living costs with day-to-day odd jobs.

The neighbors all said I was lucky, that I'd landed a girlfriend who'd never leave me.

The pain of losing a leg was beyond words.

But even so, I counted myself fortunate, because Amanda really was a good woman.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a fair trade, one leg for her life.

Well worth it.

Until half a year ago, when she started playing soccer.

That day she said she wanted to get some air, that she'd be right back.

And I felt guilty that caring for me had eaten up most of her time.

"You don't have to check with me. Go on."

When she came back, she was drenched in sweat.

Her eyes bright, like she'd been given a whole new life.

"There's a field down in the neighborhood. I kicked the ball around with a few of the girls."

The "girls" she talked about.

Later turned into "him."

That Elwin Stevens. Short hair, sunny and easygoing.

He'd come up as a college athlete, quick on his feet, eight-pack abs that had a whole crowd of fangirls screaming.

The first time she brought up Elwin Stevens, I was stitching a tear in her jersey.

The needle jabbed into my fingertip, and a bead of blood welled up.

She didn't notice.

She just kept going on about how beautiful Elwin Stevens's bicycle kick had been.

After that day, she went out more and more, from twice a week to once a day.

Out the door at six in the morning, home at ten at night.

But what kind of soccer takes a whole day to play?

Besides soccer, what else were they doing?

I was trapped at home.

But my mind wouldn't stop churning.

Ever since the crash, I'd developed severe separation anxiety.

Only seeing Amanda gave me even a moment's peace.

So that day, to make myself feel a little better.

I swallowed nearly most of the bottle of pills.

My mind went hazy, and I passed out in the wheelchair.

It was the woman delivering milk who noticed something was wrong and called 911 for me.

That night at eleven, Amanda rushed into the hospital with her eyes red, still in her jersey.

"Do you have any idea how badly you scared me?"

Amanda crouched by the bed, gripping my hand, her eyes rimmed red.

"I'll play less from now on. I'll spend more time with you."

I gave her a small smile.

"I believe you."

I thought Amanda would finally stop seeing Elwin so often.

That we'd go back to the way we used to be, leaning on each other to get through the days.

And she did stay away for two days.

By the third, everything was back to normal.

She still grabbed a ball and went out to that field.

Sweating it out beside Elwin.

The second time I swallowed the pills was last month.

I didn't do it on purpose.

It was just that when the separation anxiety hit, that surge of panic was too much to bear.

As it happened, not long after I took them, Amanda came home.

She pushed the door open, saw the empty pill bottle clenched in my hand, and sighed.

"Not this again."

She pulled the bottle out of my grip and threw it in the trash.

Her face went hard as she looked at me.

"Winston, you've already lost a leg. Now you think your life's dragging on too long?"

"You won't be satisfied until you've tortured me to death, will you?"

She flung both lines at me, seething, then dragged me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped.

By the time it was over, dawn was breaking, and she was finally worn down to nothing.

"I'm tired. You should rest too."

I didn't sleep that whole night.

I stared at her back and counted how many times she turned over.

Seven.

Not once did she turn to face me.

That night she never turned over, so of course she never saw my tears fall.

Now, I closed the video of the field.

I opened the chat.

The last message still sat there, the one I'd sent two hours ago.

"Amanda, when are you coming home?"

No reply.

Hands shaking, I dialed her number.

"Hello?"

There was heavy breathing on the other end.

And Elwin's laughter, carrying through the receiver.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"The field. Extra practice."

Amanda's voice was careless.

"What is it? If you're hungry, make yourself something."

"I'll be home late tonight."

On the other end, Elwin laughed on purpose, his voice close to the receiver.

"Who's that? Your boyfriend?"

She made a small sound of agreement, then lowered her voice to me.

"Hanging up. Time to go play."

The line dropped into the busy dial tone.

I looked out at the pitch-black night outside the window.

Picturing how the two of them were sweating it out in a hotel room.

While she lied to my face, bold as anything, that she was still playing soccer.

Anxiety shaking my hands, I turned the wheelchair and struggled to reach the pills on the cabinet.

I'd nearly tipped half the bottle down my throat.

Then I stopped.

Amanda's two lines kept circling through my head.

"A cripple with one leg gone, thinking he can fake being sick and chain me down for life?"

"My leg isn't broken. Why would I rot away beside him?"

I put every one of the pills back.

Since she never wanted to "rot" beside me anyway.

Then this rotten life of mine.

Now I was the only one who cared about it.

It was two in the morning by the time Amanda came home.

She fumbled through the dark for the living room light.

Switched it on.

She startled when she saw me sitting on the couch, wide awake.

"You're still up this late?"

She came over to feel my forehead.

I eased away from her hand.

"Home so late today."

Amanda was quiet for a moment, then suddenly smiled and held out a gift box from behind her back.

"I'm late because I was getting a surprise ready for you."

"Three more days and it's your birthday."

"Go on, open it. See if you like it."

She handed me a birthday gift, and when I opened it, there was a soccer ball inside.

I looked down at my amputated right leg.

"Amanda, you're giving me a soccer ball. Am I supposed to just look at it?"

She paused, then lightly took it back.

"Sorry. Wrong one."

She swapped it for a large plush toy.

Looking at that plush character, I fell into thought.

Ever since the crash took my leg.

My freedom had been fenced in.

Every birthday she gave me a plush toy.

She said that when she wasn't home, the toy could keep me company in her place.

But in the bedroom, an entire cabinet was already crammed with identical toys.

Even though I'd brought it up more than once.

"Amanda, I already have two of these."

"If you're going to get me one, could you make it a different character next time?"

Afraid she'd sense I was upset, I kept my tone as light as I could.

She said she understood.

But what I got this time.

Was the same plush toy again.

Now, seeing me go silent, Amanda frowned.

"What, you don't like it?"

I looked down and smiled.

"I like it."

"You picked it out yourself. How could I not like it?"

Only then did Amanda let out a breath.

"Good, as long as you like it."

She peeled off her jersey and tossed it by the entryway, then went into the bathroom to shower.

And from the corner of my eye I stared at that jersey, my gaze turning cold, inch by inch.

Amanda always came home carrying the warm, sunlit smell of sweat.

She'd been on the team all through college.

I was the one in the crowd cheering for her.

Every game, she drank only from the bottle I handed her.

Every game, she tossed her jacket into my arms and no one else's.

I used to like that smell. More than that, I craved it.

Like the young hormones of a girl in her college years.

But the jersey in my hands now.

There was something else tangled into it, sticky and thick.

Clinging to the fabric was an unfamiliar liquid that smelled of floral scent.

"Aren't you going to bed? What are you sitting there staring at?"

Amanda came out of the bathroom with her hair still dripping.

What she saw was me holding the jersey, sitting in the wheelchair.

"What is this?"

I asked her straight out.

Amanda froze for a second, something evasive flickering in her eyes before she smoothed it over.

"I was too busy playing to notice. How would I know?"

"Probably when I was drenched in sweat and threw it in a corner, somebody brushed something dirty onto it by accident."

With that, she snatched the jersey out of my hands and took it off to wash.

The next day, out of nowhere, my fever spiked to a hundred and two.

Amanda was picking up her ball to leave. I caught her sleeve, weak.

"Can you take me to the hospital first?"

Amanda frowned and reached over to feel my forehead.

"You were fine. How did you suddenly spike a fever again?"

"A hundred and two?"

"Yeah."

"Did you take anything?"

"We're out."

She frowned again and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Then lie down for now. I'll go buy you some medicine."

But an hour passed and she still wasn't back.

Then my phone chimed with an alert. Her heart rate had spiked.

Only then did I remember. Her fitness watch was synced to my phone.

She wasn't playing right now.

So what was making her heart pound like that?

I struggled to wheel myself out to the balcony, and sure enough, Amanda's car was parked right downstairs.

She got out of the car first.

Right behind her, that close male friend of hers, Elwin Stevens, stepped out still pulling his clothes on.

"Amanda, you've got some nerve. Your boyfriend's up there burning up with a fever."

"And you drive out here to meet me in the car. You couldn't wait?"

Amanda had two boxes in her hand, cold medicine and something for the fever.

Then she threw herself against Elwin, fingers trailing over his chest.

"This is just the start."

"Want something more exciting?"

Elwin met the wicked look in her eyes. "Oh? You want me to go home with you?"

"Right in front of Winston?"

Amanda didn't seem to care one way or the other.

"Is that a problem?"

I read the shapes of the words on their lips, and my hands shook with rage.

Two minutes later, a key turned in the lock, and the door opened from outside.

"Win, I'm back with your medicine."

Amanda waved the fever medicine in front of my face, then walked in.

"Ran into a buddy from my team on the way. Told him to come over for a meal."

Elwin gave my amputated leg a flat, unbothered look.

Tossed off a greeting that cost him nothing, then went to find Amanda in the kitchen.

He slapped her on the backside.

"No wonder you can't get enough of me."

"Sure, your boyfriend's a good-looking guy, but one look at that stump and it kind of kills the mood, right?"

"How long has it been since you two slept together?"

Amanda kept right on getting dinner ready. "Three years."

Their low, whispered voices carried, so plain against the quiet of the living room.

Over the next few days, Elwin kept coming over for meals, using the ball as his excuse.

Then one day it started pouring, and he couldn't get home, so he stayed the night.

I woke to find him wearing my slippers and the pajamas I'd just bought.

Standing there drying his hair with my hairdryer.

Like he was the man of the house.

I asked Amanda, "What is this?"

"You know I'm a clean freak. Why would you let someone else wear my pajamas and slippers?"

Amanda shot me a look.

"It's pouring out there. You really have the heart to make him walk home alone in that?"

"Your leg's gone. What does being a clean freak matter now? You've really got to make a thing out of one pair of slippers?"

In that moment, I went completely quiet.

All that was left was my red-rimmed eyes, looking at her without a word.

Amanda suddenly panicked and hurried over to soothe me.

"Win, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm not put off by your leg."

She coaxed me softly. "He's just my friend. I don't even think of him as a man."

"So what if he stays over at our place for one night?"

A friend staying over for a night, sure, that's nothing.

But when the two of you are booking hotel rooms together, can you still call that a friend?

Looking at how righteous Amanda's face was.

In the end I swallowed the words back down my throat.

"Then do whatever you want."

I turned my wheelchair and went back to the room. Amanda didn't bother with me after that. She took Elwin to make up the bed in the guest room.

I listened to them, starting out all serious about the sheets, ending up tangled together.

I closed my eyes.

Then I dialed a number.

"Hi, the day after tomorrow, in the morning, can I rent a car with a wheelchair space?"

"And a driver too."

The shop owner knew me.

"Hey, Winston. You heading out?"

"Yeah."

I nodded.

"I can't spend my whole life as a cripple, or live off someone else."

"I have to stand on my own."

That night, Amanda told me the news in a few short words.

"The team's leaving for Bayport for a match in a couple of days."

"I got you two cases of instant ramen. Be good, Win. I'm sorry it'll be rough for a few days."

"When I'm back I'll cook you something good."

I watched the delight rise in her eyes without saying anything.

She'd been looking forward to this match for a long time.

Three years ago, Amanda was the best player on the court.

If it hadn't been for me dragging her down.

She might have gone pro.

Instead, for my sake, she could only pick up day-rate odd jobs.

"Okay. Go."

"You're free, after all. You can't be tied down to me."

Her eyes went a little red.

She kissed me on the forehead.

"Wait for me, and be good."

The day after she left.

I pushed the wheelchair out on my own for the first time.

Trying to figure out how to make myself go a longer stretch on foot, all the way to the station.

But on the road I ran into a fortune-teller.

He stroked his beard and looked at me with a sigh.

"Young man, you were born for great fortune."

"It's only because you took on someone else's karma that you ended up like this."

"Do you want everything to go back on track?"

I froze completely, and it was a long while before I turned around.

"Sir, is there a way?"

I did as the fortune-teller said and went to the hospital to get a prosthetic.

Every few days I went in for rehab.

The doctor looked at how I was doing and said gently,

"No rush. The leg's just been fitted. Walking's slow at first. Take it easy."

"Once you're used to it and recovered, you'll be able to give up the wheelchair for good."

At the end, the doctor asked me, puzzled,

"It's been three years. Why didn't you think about a prosthetic from the start?"

I lowered my head.

Because there'd been no need.

Amanda had said she'd stay by my side always, that she'd be my legs.

So I'd let the one trouser leg hang empty.

But now I didn't need anyone to be my legs.

A prosthetic was fine too.

Amanda went to Bayport for the team match. She wouldn't be back for two weeks.

She'd left me two cases of instant ramen.

Thinking I could hold out until then.

But I didn't want to live like that anymore.

Depending on someone else just to get by.

The day before I planned to leave, Elwin got hold of my number from somewhere.

He sent one intimate photo after another, the kind you couldn't stand to look at.

Then came a flood of messages right behind them.

Nothing but provocation.

"Winston, to Amanda you're just a dead cripple."

"See that? On the days she's not with you, she's either on the court with me or in bed with me."

"At first I only wanted to have some fun with her."

"But now I think this woman's actually pretty good."

"No one dares fight me for what I want."

"So, Winston, take the hint and clear out on your own."

"Otherwise you can't beat me anyway."

I stared at the messages for a while, quiet. Then I smiled.

"Fine. I'll give you what you want."

The next day, I moved on the prosthetic with difficulty and packed two changes of clothes.

I set the keys down in the entryway.

Then, step by step, I walked downstairs.

"Airport, please."

Right before I left, something came to me, and I opened my phone.

All those messages and photos Elwin had sent to taunt me the day before.

I forwarded every last one to Amanda.

The next second, my phone started buzzing like mad.