It’s too fast, but he understands Dan’s need to share the big news with his family before they

read it in the paper, and so he nods and smiles and thinks it’s okay, really. If the man he loves always

talks with such warmth and affection about his parents, then they can’t be anything else but be good

people.

And it is okay. He hears a lot of Dutch words, with his own name as a familiar sound laced

between them. With his free hand, Daniël fiddles with the sleeve of Steve’s pyjama top. Then,

suddenly, the phone is pressed against his ear. “They want to say hi.”

A female voice, heavily accented and speaking in high-school English, greets him.

“Congratulations Steve. I’m so happy for the both of you. Daniël told so much about you in the last

months; it is as if I already know you. But I am sure we will meet in person before the wedding.”

After her a male voice with the same accent came on the line. “Be good to my boy, that’s all

I’m asking of you.”

He says something polite in return. Are they really okay with their eldest child, their only son,

sharing his life, and his bed, with a man? A man who was picked up by an ambulance in a

park...cruising...he hadn’t been cruising...but the press...the internet...

He’s too tired to keep his thoughts in line. Sleep comes easily enough, but with a fitful edge

and when he wakes up with a shock Daniël has to reassure him that he’s just having a bad dream.

Not long after the morning rituals of having a wash and eating breakfast, a mountain of a man

enters the room with (Steve soon learns) hands that make him feel muscles he can’t remember he ever

possessed, and make them all better again, almost within the same touch.

“This is just preparation for the real work. Your work. For now, your muscles have to wake up

to their task or else we do more harm than good. So I’ll start with giving you a daily massage. I will

also give you instructions for some light exercises you can perform while staying in bed. Just as

important, your brain needs to learn to do its job again. Restore the connections where possible. Work

around the damage if there’s no other choice. And they will. Trust me, they will.”

The big, big hands feel their way over muscles and tendons and joints.

“I can only do so much. You are familiar with your own body ...”

Steve shakes his head. “I was.”

“You will be again. You have my word on that.”

Steve knows this is true, but he’s not certain he wants it to be true. He will learn the difference

between the pain that is simply always there, and the out of the ordinary signal that something is

acutely wrong. He will remember that he could perform certain tasks that he’ll never be able to do in

quite the same way. And still he will perform them. It makes him wonder if there was an exact

moment when he said good-bye to his old body, or if that moment is still to come.

Later that day, Arnaud Degaré visits him, before all others, as is right and proper, since

Matthew obviously couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Daniël is out for a cup of coffee and so Steve has the

chance to ask the gaffer, once again, for a favour.

“He’s very welcome at the training. No need to ask. Anthony Levee has a slight problem with

the tendon of his left knee. I’m sure he’s happy to stay with you for a few hours. And Daniël will get

used to leaving you for a few hours in the hands of the hospital staff. We’ll just have to give him a bit

of time, oui?”

“I sent him away, gaffer, yesterday.”

“To save him.” It’s not a question. “And, was he grateful?” This is a question and a good one

too.

“No.” Not much more to say about that.

“Why did you try it?” The mild, non-judgemental tone of the voice almost breaks him.

“They still want him with the club?” He has to ask it.

Degaré smiles. “It seems our young Daniël discovered his main priority. It’s not easy, is it,

knowing you are that priority?”

Steve blushes warm enough to feel the heat on his skin, a reaction he can’t quite explain to

himself. Degaré stands up from his chair, bows lightly towards Steve, and gives him a peck on the

forehead. “Don’t try to give him what he doesn’t need.”

*

Later still, he does his exercises. They will decide the rhythm of his day for the coming weeks

and months. Since life has been given back to him, since Daniël thinks he’s worth the risk of a sea of

time unimaginable for someone hardly in his twenties, it’s the least he can do. He has to make his best

effort to be a husband who’s as healthy and mobile as possible; anything less would be unacceptable.

There is no debt between them, Steve knows that all too well, but in the end, love weighs so much

heavier than duty.

So he sets his first goal: get into that wheelchair. That’s easy enough. Takes him a day’s worth

of energy, lasts all of five minutes, but what glorious minutes. Getting on his feet will be, doubtless, a

whole different story. But he’s been out of bed, and he’s got to start somewhere. His lover’s smile is

worth every single painful step on the long road he has to travel. If he never walks again, it’s because

he’s truly defeated.

Talking Daniël into going to training again isn’t as hard as Steve feared.

“Anthony and you will have so much to talk about.” Daniël leans his face very closely against

Steve’s. “You love it, don’t you, when I get back and smell all nice and sweaty. If you promise to do

the exercises for your legs, I promise to skip the shower after training.”

He kisses Steve’s lips. “God, I miss it so.” There’s a hint of sadness and shame in his voice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ....”

“What, sweetheart, what didn’t you mean?”

“You know, put pressure on you.”

“You don’t think I miss it too? Miss holding you and touching you and being touched by you?

It meant so much to me, when you got into bed with me. It’s what I needed more than anything.”

“Your skin under my hands feels all warm and dry. Or sometimes cool and wet when you come

out of the rain. Your lips and tongue are making a trail from my neck to my tail-bone. I’m falling

asleep with my face against your belly; your face against my belly. In the early morning, we wake up

in the same position and continue where we left off.”

“I’m so sorry.” Steve breathes the words against Daniël’s mouth.

“Don’t even think it. You were no longer in immediate danger, but still so very far away from

me. I didn’t know what to do with myself, with my hands. There was so little I could touch, except for

this tiny part of your arm.” Daniël kisses Steve’s arm before he continues. “Sometimes I was so

desperate for any kind of contact that I would get my face really close to you without actually

touching, so I could get as much as possible of your scent. I had to know it was still you, under the

stink of disinfectants and infections.”

Steve starts to stroke Daniël’s hair. Melkboerenhondehaar the boy calls it, hair of a milkman’s

dog. Too dark to be blond, too light to be brown and very comb-resistant. How could he not love it?

The boy leans into the touch. “I’m not a saint, you know.”

Steve tries to keep his voice calm and accepting. “I won’t blame you if you might have found

distraction, comfort perhaps, in the arms of someone else. I can imagine, with you being here all the

time, and some of the pretty nurses, or perhaps a visitor ...”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one for me and that’s that. I didn’t ask you to marry

me because I think it’s romantic. It’s just that at night, when I hear you softly breathing and it’s all

quiet and I know you’re in the other bed and I can’t even touch you and at such moments, I get so fed