War Torn

Steve switched on the TV as soon as they were in the living room. Leanne switched it off.‘What d’you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.‘I can’t seduce a man while he’s watching daytime TV – he might get me confused with one of those antiques auction shows and try to flog me for a fiver.’He looked at her without smiling and raised his eyebrows.‘So that’s why you brought me all the way down here and got the kids out for the day.’She sat beside him on the sofa and took his hand. He was still her big, handsome husband. She used to feel proud, walking around shopping centres or taking the kids places with him. She often saw other women glance twice at Steve. And his face hadn’t changed. It was the expression on it that was different.‘Nah. It’s because I’ve always wanted a disabled parking badge and I need you to sign the forms.’He didn’t smile. ‘I don’t need a fucking blue badge, and you didn’t need to sweet-talk the guardhouse into giving you a disabled space today.’‘So you’ve got a souvenir replica of the Eiffel Tower instead of a leg and you like to show it off. Why should that stop me getting the best parking place at Tesco?’She saw his face re-form itself into angry lines.‘I am not driving a car with a fucking blue badge.’‘Shut up, Steve, and take your clothes off.’‘What?’‘Don’t have a problem undressing, do you? After all, you’re not disabled.’He looked at her with apprehension. She moved closer to him and began to kiss his face, especially around his ears, like she used to. She felt him relax a little. She kissed him on the mouth and he responded. She began to feel triumphant. Then he pulled away.‘Leanne . . .’Oh-oh. She tried to kiss his mouth to stop him talking. She could feel him giving in to her. Then he pulled away again.‘Leanne, listen . . .’She looked at him. His eyes were large and soft now. They had lost that cross, bulging look and the angry lines around his mouth had disappeared.He said: ‘You’ve never looked at my stump.’‘You’ve never shown me.’‘I put my socket and leg on when you come up to Headley Court. But when you’re not there, I lounge around without it.’‘Why don’t you lounge around without it when I’m there?’‘Because you don’t want to see it.’He was right. But she was not going to admit that.‘Because you hide it from me,’ she said.He swallowed.‘Want to see it, then?’‘Well, I’ve already been to the Eiffel Tower. Got the T-shirt. So show me something I haven’t seen.’He swallowed again.‘You want to do it . . . here?’‘We could go down to the rec. But tongues would wag, Steve.’She began to kiss him again and this time he gave in.‘OK,’ he said at last. ‘Here goes.’He took off his trousers. She stared at the join between the socket and the metal leg. She had seen that before: Steve and most of the other lads with metal legs walked around at Selly Oak and Headley Court in shorts. Only the older amputees covered up and tried to make the prosthetics look like real legs, she had noticed.Her heart began to beat faster. She remembered Jenny telling her that today she had to win an Oscar. It was essential not to show fear, disgust or horror. She concentrated hard on looking relaxed. She thought she was succeeding. But when she tried to smile she found she was unable to.Steve took the leg off the socket. He made several attempts to lean it against the sofa. She did not help him. It began to slide to the floor. She did not catch it. The leg landed with a thud. Then she watched as he released the socket at the top of his leg. Already his movements were practised and fluent. She reached out and very gently stroked his forearms as his hands worked. She tried not to pay any attention to the part of her that felt dizzy with fear at what she was about to see. She reminded herself that this was Steve. She wanted him to know that he was still her Steve.And, suddenly, there it was. Steve’s stump. It grew out of his groin and was recognizably a human body part. The surgeons had rounded it off nicely: it was covered with tight flesh like the rest of him as though it had always been that way. What had she expected? A dripping mess of hanging wires like a fire in an electrical showroom? So, after all that, his stump wasn’t an ugly, scary deformity. It was Steve.She knew he was watching her. And it was easy to smile. Very slowly, she reached out and touched it. Yes, it even felt like Steve. Even more slowly, because her bulk, as usual these days, got in the way, she leaned forward and kissed it. Gently, and lovingly.Steve watched her. She looked up at him from his small fraction of a leg and smiled.