his arms, which were by his sides, were shaking.
'Keep breathing, Jack. Deep breath.'
'Put it down!… Goddamn it! Let go!'
Kid nodded, as if seeing what he wanted to see, and slowly eased the leg back down. When it touched the floor, he released it. Jack's entire body sagged. He used the cuff of his shirt to wipe his forehead and his breathing was so labored he couldn't speak. Kid looked down at him, spoke slowly.
'You gotta go ten seconds past the scream, Jack. That's the program. It won't always hurt like that, but it'll always hurt. That's how you're gonna get better.'
Jack's breathing was under control. It took him another moment before he spoke. 'I've missed you,' he said weakly. 'You son of a bitch.'
FIFTEEN
Okay, I'm going to try to explain to you exactly what's going to happen. Not just today but over the next few weeks and months.'
Jack was sitting in his wheelchair. He and Kid were in what had been, until the night before, Jack and Caroline's home office, a small room, maybe fourteen-by-fourteen, off the kitchen. It was now furnished with padded benches, thick floor mats, dumbbells, barbells, and state-of-the-art Universal weight machines. Kid wanted this to be their retreat, he said. He wanted it to be a separate world where Jack felt safe, someplace soothing and calm and yet strong, where he could believe he was on the road to recovery.
'Come here, I'm gonna show you something.' Kid reached over and put the cane, which was hanging over the back of the wheelchair, into Jack's hand. Then he grabbed Jack's other hand and gently pulled him up to a standing position. 'You can't bear weight on this leg yet, can you?'
'Very little.'
Kid nodded, as if this somehow pleased him. 'Lie down on this mat.'
'Kid, is this really-'
'Come on, Jack. Lie down.'
Jack nodded and Kid put his hand behind Jack's back. Jack eased himself down as best he could but ultimately had to trust himself to Kid. Kid lowered him to the mat and Jack lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
'Okay,' Kid said. 'Keep your head down. Put your arms by your sides, palms down.' He waited until Jack complied. 'Now lift your leg ten times.'
'What do you mean, lift it?'
'Just straight up and down. That's all. Nothing hard. All you have to do is lift your leg ten times. As high as you can. Either leg. Your choice.'
Jack stayed motionless for a moment, then lifted his right leg into the air. It rose about two feet, then he slowly lowered it back down to the mat. He rested it there for three seconds, then lifted it again. Again it went about two feet high, then slowly went back down.
'Eight more to go,' Kid said. 'No resting in between.'
Jack made it to seven lifts. After that, totally flat on his back, he shook his head slowly from side to side. He was finished.
'You look exhausted.'
Jack was so tired he couldn't even answer. All he did was nod.
'Okay,' Kid said, 'now stand up.'
Jack took a deep breath, finally was able to say, 'You know I can't get up from this position.'
'So let me get this straight,' Kid said. 'You can't get up from the floor and you can't even lift your leg ten times in a row. With no weight attached to it.'
'Are all our conversations going to end with me saying fuck you?'
'No. I just want to show you something. You watching?'
'I'm lying on the goddamn floor, Kid, doing my best carrot impersonation. What else do you think I'm doing but watching?'
Kid went to the barbell that was lying on the floor, rolled up against the wall under the room's two small windows. He moved the bar to the center of the room, went to the rack in the corner and pulled off two weights. He attached one of them to each end of the barbell, bent down as if to lift it, then stopped and went back to the rack. He took two more weights and added them to the bar.
'Watch me, Jack.'
He put his feet shoulder-width apart and positioned himself so his shins were practically touching the bar. Then he bent down and grasped it, his palms down. Kid's body revealed no tension; there was no apprehension or even hint of strain to come. His legs bent so his thighs were almost parallel to the floor. With his head up and his arms extended straight down, he inhaled deeply and suddenly and, seemingly in one motion, lifted the bar up past his waist and, flipping it so his hands were now underneath it, to shoulder height. He was standing perfectly erect and the bar was resting on his chest. He was not breathing hard and there was no outward sign of exertion.
'This is called a 'clean,'' Kid said. 'It's the hardest weight exercise there is. I'm doing two hundred pounds. That's a serious weight.'
'And you're showing this to me because…?'
'Because you're gonna be able to do this. With this exact weight.'
'Kid, I can't even stand up by myself, as you've so kindly pointed out.'
Kid exhaled deeply and, in one motion, returned the bar to the floor. The weight touched down so softly it barely made a sound.
'A year from today, Jack. Mark it down in your calendar. That's the day you clean two hundred. You're not going to be as good as new, you're gonna be twice as good as you ever were.'
Jack didn't say anything. He just motioned for Kid to help him up. When he was safely back in his chair, he looked up at Kid and said quietly, 'How long have you been back?'
'A year,' Kid told him. His voice was just as muted as Jack's. 'I came back a year ago.'
Jack looked down, shook his head as if clearing away a physical pain. 'What the hell have you been doing this whole time?'
'I told you. Keeping my head above water.'
'I could have helped,' Jack said. 'When did I ever refuse to help you?'
'Never. That's one of the reasons I didn't call. I needed to do this on my own.'
'What are the other reasons?'
'Let me hook you up to the machine now, Jack.'
There was silence between them until Kid moved to something that looked a bit too much like R2-D2. It was the ultrasound-ultrastim machine. 'You won't feel anything at first. I'm starting really low. Gradually you'll feel a kind of prickly sensation.' Kid now attached Jack to the machine. Wires led out to directly above his left knee and just above his right hip. 'I just want this to be nice and soothing for now.'
'Doesn't seem right,' Jack muttered sarcastically. 'You're giving me something where there's no agony.'
'Don't worry,' Kid said. 'The agony'll come soon enough.' And then with a half laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, he said, so quietly that Jack could barely make out the words, 'And the strange part is you're gonna start to like it.'
SIXTEEN
In the months since Caroline had died, Jack had spoken very little about her. He accepted awkward condolences with a quiet thank-you or a silent nod of the head and he rarely reminisced about her, even with Dom, who spoke to or saw him every day, or Herb Bloomfield, his lawyer, who called him every other day – Jack decided that his lawyer friend had to have had his secretary put 'Call Jack, see how he's doing' on his calendar, blocking off
