His feet dangled in the water and waved as she sliced the lengths of her pool. She mesmerized him. Her movements were hypnotic. Her kicks were methodic and measured. She silently swooshed with her limbs. Her strokes severed her path.
His mind didn’t lapse into daydreams. The heat from the sun paled under the warmth of his desire for her. His arms steadied his weight as he waited for her to bob up at the end of her swim.
Her head cleaved the water as she bounced to a halt. “Hey you,” she burbled as her hand whooshed the wet from her face. She pressed herself against his legs. Her breasts brushed his feet. He bristled at their touch. His legs waved wide as he wrapped them around her back. He pulled her near and bent for her kiss.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“You don’t want me to kiss you?” he pulled his head back and waved his legs away from her waist.
She ran her hands down the length of his limbs and felt his shins shake until she handled his heels in her hands. “Hey, don’t do that to me,” she shushed. She inched her lips against his chest as she guided her hands down the length of his feet. He yanked them away before she touched his toes.
“Goddamn you! Stop it!” he withdrew his legs and whisked them against the pool wall.
She took a step closer and touched his instep. “Come on baby, it’s nothing,” she soothed. She palmed the place where his toes used to be.
He reclined against his arms and tried to drag his legs out of the pool. He smashed his ass into the shale as he freed his feet from her fingers. She grabbed his ankles as soon as his feet hit the deck. “Let go of me!” He jerked his knees to his chest and toppled on his back. His skin scraped against the stones.
She climbed out of the pool, pulled her suit straps up her shoulders, and walked over to a bar near her seat. She picked up her pack, placed a cigarette between her lips, and lit it. Two puffs and she was ready to speak. “You’ve got to get over it,” she exhaled. She grabbed her towel and dabbed the damp.
“There’s nothing to get over,” he stumbled to his feet and straightened his skewed trunks. He frantically searched for his shoes.
“They’re right behind you,” she exhaled.
He grabbed his shoes. “Why do you have to do this shit to me?” he pulled on his shoes. “Huh? This is the first time in years that I’ve gone barefoot outside and you have to make something out of it. Jesus Christ you’re cruel!”
“I’m not being mean,” she picked up her glass of tea and took a sip. “I just wanted you to know it didn’t bother me.”
He tied the last shoelace and straightened his legs. He stood up and walked over to his chair. He picked up his bottle. “Well it bothers me!” he guzzled a gulp. “You should have considered that it bothers me!”
“Well it shouldn’t,” she pulled her wrap from her chair, twirled it around her hips, and wasted no time tying the knot. “You need to get over it Mark,” she sat back into a seat and swung her legs up onto the lounge. “You’re taking everything too far.”
“What? What am I taking too far? That I don’t want you to touch my foot?” he pitched his empty bottle into the trash. “Shit, it’s the only part of me I don’t like touched. Why is that so weird? Huh?”
“It’s not just that honey,” she flicked her cigarette into the metal ashtray on the side table. “Look at you. 
You’re too thin. You’ve lost too much weight.” She shifted in her seat and picked up the sunscreen. She squirted a glob into her palm. “You’ve taken everything to the extreme.” She rubbed the lotion into each of her limbs.
She rubbed him the wrong way. “Hey! Just because I don’t want you to touch my foot doesn’t make it a character flaw.” He grabbed another soda and backed onto his chair. “Christ! Talk about extreme! Did it ever occur to you that I’m humiliated?” he twisted the top off of the bottle and threw it into the bin.
“Over what? You’ve lost a couple of toes. So what? You’re a diabetic. It happens.” She leaned back into her lounge and tilted her face to the shine. “But you’re gaunt now. It’s not a good look for you. You’re not good looking enough to be gaunt.”
“Well Jesus Christ, you’re a fun party aren’t you?” He put his soda to his lips and slopped it down his chest toward his trunks.
“Oh hush,” she turned her head toward his face and shaded her eyes with the shield of her hand, “it’s just the God’s truth. You should be glad I love you enough to tell you the truth. The biking is good but you need to find a balance about your weight. You’re too thin.”
“No one else thinks I’m too thin,” he closed his eyes and sunk into the sun.
“They don’t see you without your clothes on,” she drew her legs up and angled them with her feet on the seat. “I can see all the bones in your back.”
“Oh Christ get off me please,” he said with his forearm over his brows.
“Baby, what are you so afraid of?” she swung her feet over the side and sat on the edge of her seat.
He took his thumb and forefinger and whisked the sweat from his eyes. “Irresponsibility,” he said. “I’m afraid of irresponsibility.”
She stood up and walked to his side. She bent and sat beside him. He shifted his ass in his seat and made room for her. She put her palm on his thigh. “But you’re not being irresponsible Mark,” she soothed. “You said your podiatrist said your foot never looked better. Right? Your blood sugars are all good. Right?” She patted his leg. “It’s gonna be good sweetheart.”
He shifted his body to the edge and made more room at his side. She sank to his side and put her head alongside his. He cradled her in his arm. “I’m not afraid I’ll be irresponsible. I won’t be. I know me. I know who I am. I know how to maintain. I refuse to lose my legs or my feet.” He kissed her forehead before he went ahead with the conversation. “And I’m not going to disappoint them.” 
“Who? Your doctors?” she seemed puzzled.
“Yeah, to a degree,” he admitted. “I mean I know they aren’t even paying attention. I haven’t lost my sense of proportion. But when I volunteered at the hospital I used to talk to all of them. The residents were so full of hope. They had read all these theories and had all these plans and hopes. But the doctors were so weary. They knew they weren’t going to make that much of a difference. A lot of them were so brokenhearted,” his hand lazily stroked her arm. “And I used to say, ‘count of me. I’ll do it. I’ll show you that medicine works. I’ll prove it to you. Watch me man.’ And they would laugh at me. Not in a mean way. They’d laugh like I was this simpleminded dolt who didn’t quite get how the world worked.” He closed his mouth and echoed its action with his eyes.
“It’s noble,” her hand brushed against his hip. “It’s a little unrealistic though - don’t ya think?”
“Nope,” he reached over her to grab his glasses from the table.
“You should maybe get contacts,” she studied his face. “You’re better looking without glasses.”
“Can’t,” he rubbed the sweat off of the top of his head. “I can’t risk the infections.” Their breaths matched as they soaked in the sun. “Don’t you see kid,” he began, “all my life I’ve been so disappointed. People always told me there wasn’t a God. People laughed because I carried a Rosary. You know, like I lacked the intelligence to see the folly of faith.” He took his hands and wiped the sweat off his chest. “And I’d say, come on man - I’ll prove it. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you. And they laughed and then I’d pray my ass off. And He’d give it to them. And then they’d avoid me because they were afraid. So when I ran into them again, they’d stand and explain to me how it wasn’t God. They told me it had all just worked out.” He stretched his legs and arched his back to get a better position. “And never once did anyone ever say to me, ‘you’re right. Prayer worked.’ But I know it did. I know it does. So. Medicine works. I don‘t want them to think they did it all for nothing. I don‘t want them not to have hope.” He reached for his bottle but it was beyond his grasp. “Hey baby, will ya hand me my soda?”
She handed him the bottle and then stretched out along his side. Her hand touched his belly; his hand caressed her arm. “So you want them to know the work was worth it,” she sighed. “Hey, you’re getting sunburned. Turn over.” She reached for the sunscreen.
“No, I want them to know it’s possible,” he flipped on his stomach. “I want them to know it’s not all just a theory. Just once I want them to see it in the flesh. I want them to see the possible one time.” She rubbed the lotion into his shoulders as she straddled his legs. “And then when people tell them it can’t be done, they’ll know it has been done. And they can grab that fact and hold on to it when things feel hopeless.” He tipped a sip of his soda. “Hey, diet soda sucks in the summer,” he assessed.
“We should try making lemonade with Splenda,” she grabbed him around the waist and gave him a squeeze. “Don’t get too thin on me,” she nuzzled into his neck.
“Ok, I’m getting in the mood to get touched,” he whispered as he flipped between her knees and landed on his back. “We could work up to my foot.”
“Oh you’re all worked up,” she giggled. “That’s obvious. You want to go inside?”
“No, let’s swim a couple of laps before we do,” he pulled away and sat upright. “I’m all sticky from sweat.“ He untied his laces, removed his shoes and handed them to her. He stood up and walked barefooted toward the pool. She couldn’t see him wince. But she knew it was possible.
He has such an enthusiasm for his profession. He is so generous with his time. No appointment is hurried. No question is unanswered. No fear belittled. No ignorance uneducated. All of his attributes are the cornerstones of a fantastic physician.
I knew I had no insurance. I knew I couldn’t afford the medical bills. I knew I couldn’t afford not to go. I had accepted death. I had not accepted defeat. I wasn’t suicidal. I went to the ER.
Who shouldn’t be paid? Jealousy and coveting prevents an unencumbered reply. Yet gratefully we have a just God who compensates with compassion.
