SLOWLY DISAPPEARING

 

SLOWLY DISAPPEARING

New fiction by Doug in UK

Gradually, there was less and less of David as he struggled to fulfil his destiny…..

Peter Johnson’s father was a self-made man, having built up his construction business from scratch. He’d been lucky after the Second World War to secure several contracts for building “pre-fabs”, and quickly moved on to small local authority council-housing estates. Peter had taken over as managing director when his father decided to take a back seat when he was 65, and the business had flourished under Peter’s leadership, expanding into building large warehouses as well as residential accommodation of many kinds.

Johnson Builders still occupied the modest offices which Peter’s father had built, and Peter enjoyed watching his employees loading trucks and shovelling supplies from his office window overlooking the yard. His secretary Celia shared his office with him, and although she was aware that Peter was gay, it was never discussed. She had, however, noticed the way he clearly enjoyed watching the younger men in the yard, especially in the summer when they took their shirts off.

Celia’s younger brother Bob was gay, and she was relaxed around gay men.

As the business had grown, Peter employed more office staff. Insurance had become an essential part of the business plan, and he’d advertised for someone to take over this important part of the work. He and Celia had interviewed several promising candidates, and they were confident that their choice of David Horne was a good one. David was only 26 and had had a few years in an insurance office since leaving university and was eager to start. He had to give a month’s notice with his current employer, and during that month Peter got his staff to prepare a new office for him. The business was growing with a whole department devoted to the specialised steel erections needed for larger warehouses, as well as more conventional residential properties.

Peter took a particular interest in furnishing David’s new office, and one day when he was carrying a big potted palm, Celia challenged him. “You’ve never taken this much care preparing for other new staff,” she said. “I think you fancy him, don’t you?”

Peter smiled. “Yes, he’s pretty; but we employed him because we think he’ll do a good job, didn’t we?”

On David’s first day, Peter didn’t trust himself to welcome his new employee without making a fool of himself, so he sent Celia to meet him, and take him to his new office. There was a huge pile of paperwork on David’s desk, and the new man set to work to sort it out. Another of the secretaries was assigned to him to create his filing system and explain the many mysterious papers which David encountered. By lunchtime, Peter couldn’t stand it any longer, and went next door to welcome his new colleague.

The two men smiled as they shook hands.

“I think my new boss is a queer,” thought David. “That’s lucky for me.”

“I hope it’s not just wishful thinking,” thought Peter, “but I think this pretty boy is as queer as me.”

“I hope you’ll be happy here,” said Peter. “Perhaps one day later in the week you’d like to go for a drink after work, so we can get to know one another. After all, we’re working in adjacent offices and we’re going to be seeing a lot of one another.”

“That would be nice,” said David. “I’d just have to tell my mum which night I’ll be late home. She worries about me.”

“Oh that’s good,” thought Peter, “he lives at home with his mum. Another piece of evidence that he’s gay.”

“Believe it or not,” said Peter, “I still live at home as well. My father built this business up from scratch and keeps a little bit of an eye on it, and me!”

“Thought so,” thought David. “Unmarried at his age, and still at home. Bet he is gay.”

A few days later the two men walked out of the yard together to go for that promised drink. A couple of the men working in the yard nudged one another. “Told you that would happen. Queer boss taking his new pretty boy out for the evening.”

“Might be innocent,” said the other. “You’ve just got a dirty mind.” They laughed and went back to shovelling the gravel.

Peter and David shared a rather hesitant conversation that first drink together, and gradually discovered that they were not only both gay, but both reluctantly living at home with parents. David’s mother was a widow, and both of Peter’s parents were still much alive. There was at first, a lot of lust crackling between the two men, and they both looked forward to after-work drinks once or twice a week. Neither felt able to ask the other home, with parents hanging around, and so their friendship didn’t progress beyond drinks in the local pub.

Without discussing it, both were unsure about the implications of a full-bloodied affair between the boss and one of his employees. In a most unexpected way, this would change dramatically.

Peter was always early to work, and Celia would arrive soon after. She would smile to herself when Peter got up and walked to the window just before nine o’clock each morning. She knew that in his innocent checking of the men in the yard, Peter was watching anxiously for a first glimpse of his beautiful insurance expert. David pretended that he didn’t know Peter was watching from his office, but he was always aware of being observed as he walked across the yard to the iron stairs up to the offices.

With the growth of steel-framed warehouse construction, the builders yard started to include large numbers of steel girders as well as the usual piles of sand and gravel. The business bought a small mobile crane for moving the massive steel joists around the yard.

One morning the mobile crane was unloading steel girders from a lorry in the yard. David walked beside the lorry just as a girder hanging from the crane swung out of control. David could not avoid the swinging steel, and it caught him scissor-like between its leading edge, and another girder already on the ground. His left foot was sliced cleanly off.

Peter, watching from his office window, saw the whole accident, and screamed too late to warn David. Celia jumped and rushed to the window. “Call 999, an ambulance,” shouted Peter and he rushed down the stairs. Several other men in the yard had seen the accident and rushed to the stricken man. By the time Pater got to him, one of the men was using his belt to tie a tight tourniquet around David’s leg.

“Bloody hell, boy, didn’t you see it coming?” said Peter, then immediately regretted saying such an obviously stupid remark.

“It’s alright,” said David, “It doesn’t hurt too much, but I think I’d better go to the hospital.”

“There’s no choice about that,” said Peter.

Within a few minutes an ambulance was turning into the yard, and one of the men waved the medics to where David was lying on the ground. The initial adrenaline rush was wearing off, and David had started to shake violently, and groan. The medics replaced the make-shift tourniquet with a more professional one, then loaded David onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

“Where’s his foot?” said one of the medics.

“Here on the ground. No-one wants to touch it.”

“Christ, give it to me, quick,” said the medic. “We need to get it wrapped in ice.”

“No,” came David’s voice. “Leave it there, I don’t want it.”

“The doctor will want to try to reattach it,” said the medic.

“I know,” said David, “but that’s why I said leave it. I don’t want anyone to try and stick it back on.”

The medic shook his head, and ignoring David’s strange request, put the foot, still in the shoe, on the floor of the ambulance.

Peter went to get into the ambulance. “Who are you?” asked the medic.

“His boss,” said Peter.

“Have you got information about him, his next of kin, that sort thing?”

“No,” said Peter.

“Then I suggest you go back and get them, and then bring them down to the hospital. He’ll be in A and E for some time, so catch up with him then.”

The ambulance doors slammed and the vehicle swung out of the year, its siren sounding.

Peter climbed back up the stairs to his office and burst into tears.

“Sit down,” ordered Celia, “and have a cup of tea. I’ll sort out the papers from his personal file, and then I’ll taken them to the hospital.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” said Peter, and then looking up at Celia, muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s not much this secretary doesn’t know about her boss,” said Celia. “I understand why you’re shocked and upset. It will be alright, you know. Now the first job is to phone his mother. I’ll do it, and I’ll arrange to meet her at the hospital. You stay here and make sure ething’s alright. Has anyone checked on the crane driver? I expect he’s feeling guilty, although it wasn’t his fault.”

When Celia got back to the office, Peter had done little work.

“He’s in A and E,” said Celia, “and as comfortable as might be expected. His mother is there, and as it doesn’t look as if you’ll get any work done today, you’d better go down there and see him.”

As Peter walked to the door, Celia put her arm around him. “I know what he means to you,” she smiled, “but don’t worry, he’ll be alright.”

Peter went straight to the Accident and Emergency department and was directed to the bay where David was laying. Just outside the curtain was a middle-aged lady, not much older than Peter himself. “Are you Mrs Horne?” asked Pater.

“Yes,” said the woman. “What a to-do. He’s still in shock. Are you his boss, Mr Johnson? I’m so glad you’ve come. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. He won’t listen to me.” She stood and started to leave. “I’m going to find a coffee somewhere. I’ll be back.”

Puzzled by these cryptic comments, Peter looked round the curtain.

“Hello,” he said. “How are you doing?”

David smiled grimly. “I’m OK, and I’m definitely not in shock as mother says I am.”

“What does she mean about talking sense into you?”

“I’ve told them I don’t want them to try to reattach my foot.”

Peter pulled a chair close to the bed and sat so that his face was close to David’s. “Are you quite sure about this?”

“I don’t want months of agony whilst my foot doesn’t heal properly, endless days in hospital, and no chance of walking properly. If they can just tidy up my stump I could be up on crutches in a few days – and even back to work. It won’t be long before I get I decent prosthesis, and I’ll be good as new.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” said Peter. “Are you quite sure?”

David turned his face to Peter and spoke quietly. “I’ve been wanting an amputation for ages. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have had this accident. I really mean that: I think I’m lucky to get an amputation after all these years of wanting one. Of course, I know all about prosthetics and crutches. Pleased support me with this.”

Peter said quietly, “I understand you and I will support you; don’t worry any more.” And he leaned forward and gave David a kiss. They sat in silence for a while, then Peter stood up. “I’ll speak to your mother.”

Near the door of the A and E department was a small seating area with a coffee machine, and Peter found Mrs Horne waiting there. “He doesn’t want all the agony of his foot being reattached,” he said, “and he’s quite cool about getting a prosthetic.”

“He’s still in shock,” said Mrs Horne. “He’ll regret this later.”

“No, I don’t think he will,” said Peter. “He’s level-headed and completely in control. We must support what he wants.”

Mrs Horne managed a wry smile. “It’s hard for a mother to see her baby injured. Thank you for your support, Mr Johnson. Let’s hope you’re right.

They were joined by a junior doctor. “Mrs Horne?” said the doctor. “I’m looking after your son. He’s signed for an operation to tidy up the wound to his leg and is clear that we must not try to reattach his foot. Are you aware of this?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Horne. “I can’t say that I’m happy about it, but he’s an adult and capable of making his own decisions. You’d better do as he says.”

“The operation is scheduled for tomorrow morning,” said the doctor. “It’s an usually clean break, but we must work on it make it comfortable for a prosthetic. You can phone around lunchtime to see that he’s out of the operation OK, and then visit in the evening, although he’ll still be sleepy for the whole day.” Turning to Peter, the doctor said, “And you are?”

“His boss,” said Peter, “and friend. I’ll call in each day to see how he progresses.”

“I suggest you go back and say good-bye. He’ll be transferred to a ward shortly.”

Peter was astonished to discover that it was only lunchtime when he got back. His secretary had arranged for all the witnesses to write their accounts of the accident and worked with David’s secretary to find the details of insurance for industrial accidents. “It’s a bit weird,” said Celia, “that we’ll be making a claim on a policy that David himself set up fairly recently. In fact, if he comes back to work soon, he might even have to process his own paperwork!”

“I’m taking the afternoon off,” said Peter. “I must tell dad what happened, and it’s best he hears from me rather than anyone else.”

That evening Peter went back to the hospital. Mrs Horne was leaving just as he got there. David was lying in the bed with a kind of little tent over what was left of his left leg.

“Hello boss,” said David. “It’s good of you to come. I’ve just had half an hour of mother telling me I’m a fool.”

Peter leaned down and kissed David. “Not boss,” said Peter, “you must call me Peter from now on,” and he kissed David again.

“What’s happened to us?” said David.

“I’ve been loving you from a distance ever since we met,” said Peter, “and this accident has thrust us together.

“I’ve been loving you, Peter,” said David, “but I never thought it would come to anything.”

Peter smiled. “Now tell me how you are.”

“It hurts like hell,” said David, “and I’m on a big dose of painkillers, but seeing you makes the pain go away.”

A nurse came over to see if David needed any more pain medication.

“Hello,” she said to Peter, “are you his boyfriend?”

David looked startled but Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, “of course I am.”

Peter visited David e day: he was there when David came round from the operation; he was there when David sat on the edge of the bed for the first time; and he was there to push David in a wheelchair for his first expedition away from the ward. During these and many other intimate moments, the two men recognised their growing love, and inevitably the talk turned to living together.

“There’s a block of flats near the depot,” said Peter, “that my father built some years ago when he was first starting out. The penthouse is for sale, and my dad suggested recently that I should buy it. I’m 43, and I should have left home years ago, and I’d love you to move in with me. It’s on the sixth floor, and there’s a lift. We can make any modifications we might need, as it needs renovation and modernising anyway. You’re going to have to go home to your mum when they discharge you, but I’ll find a way to take you to see the flat, and I’ll set about buying it.”

Although he was sent home in a wheelchair, David was determined to master crutches quickly, and he astonished eone by turning up at work less than three weeks after the accident. He was rather slow getting up the stairs to his office, but otherwise seemed able to continue where he had left off.

Peter bought the penthouse in the block his father had built, and he and David designed the new kitchen and bathroom they wanted, as well as a full renovation of the whole flat. Peter insisted that the new bathroom should have a large roll-in shower suitable for a wheelchair user, and the kitchen counters were installed lower than usual, again to assist a wheeler.

David’s mother, and Peter’s parents all realised that their boys had found life partners, and just three months after the accident David and Peter moved into their new home. Meanwhile David had been fitted with his first prosthetic and created even greater amazement the day he arrived for work without his crutches and looking as if he’d never lost his left foot.

The two decided to have a little house-warming party, partly as a celebration of their becoming a couple, and partly to show off the renovations they’d had done to the apartment. There was a lot of interest in the bathroom because of the large wheel-in shower with its marble seat. Mrs Horne, David’s mother, was pleased to see that her disabled son was well-cared-for in the flat and realised that life was far more comfortable for her son than it had been at home. Peter’s secretary Celia was particularly happy to have been included in the party, and she was full of admiration for the way in which David had learned to walk on his new prosthetic foot.

When the guests had all gone, Peter and David sat on the sofa in their living room to relax. “You’ve done well,” said Peter, “on your new foot, but I want to tell you something I’ve thought about a lot recently.”

He hesitated, and David said, “Go on.”

“I prefer to see you on your crutches, without the prosthetic. It’s much sexier.”

David smiled. “I’m so pleased you said that. It’s easy to walk on the prosthetic, but I like the crutches too. I’ll wear my new foot for going to work, but I’ll take it off when we get home, and I’ll be a crutcher at home.”

They kissed for a long time, and then David said, “I’ve got something to say as well. It’s more radical than not using my fake foot. What I’d really like is to have the rest of my leg cut off, amputated high up at my hip, what’s called a LHD, left hip disarticulation, too high for a prosthetic. Then I’d be totally on crutches at all times.”

There was a pause, and Peter looked into his lover’s eyes. “That’s what I’d like,” he said, “but I hardly dared to say it. It was easy in the hospital to support you when you refused to let them try and put your foot back on, as I’ve been a devotee for years and years. The trouble was that I couldn’t show how pleased I was when you had your accident.”

“And I couldn’t show how pleased I was when it happened,” said David.

“So what do we do now?” said Peter.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” replied David, “in fact it’s been in my mind all the time since the hospital. We’ve got to find a way of getting my leg off. We can easily tell people that some kind of infection happened after the amputation, no-one will question that. All we must do is find a surgeon to chop off the rest of my leg.”

“And you’ll be totally on crutches for e day of the rest of your life?”

“That’s what I want. You saw how easily I took to crutching – that’s because it’s so natural for me. It’s how I’ve wanted to be for years and years, since I was a little boy.”

There was another pause, as Peter considered what to say next.

“I told you I’ve been a devotee for a long time: well in my wanderings on the internet, I’ve found someone who can arrange a voluntary amputation. He’s in Belgium, and he can arrange for an amputation at a private clinic in Brussels.”

“I think I know who that is. I’ve also spent many hours on the internet looking at pictures and videos of one-legged men. I never printed any of the pictures, living at home with mum.”

Peter laughed. “I’m the same. Living at home with my parents, I didn’t print pictures, but I certain knew where to find them.”

“How do we contact the man in Belgium?”

“I’ve got an email for him,” said Peter.

“So what are we waiting for?” said David. “Let’s send him an email and see what he says.”

“Are you sure about this?” said Peter.

“Never surer!” said David.

Later that night, in bed, their lovemaking had never been better, with mutual whispering about David’s next amputation. In the heat of the passion, David even whispered, “And later they can take the other leg as well.”

Next morning, Peter remember David’s whisperings in the night. “You spoke of having the other leg off, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said David, “but not yet. I want to enjoy being one-legged for a while and live on crutches; but I can’t deny that eventually I’ll want the other leg off as well.”

“You mean become a double hip amputee, with no legs at all.”

“Exactly, but not in a hurry – I want many months, perhaps years, as a one-leg man dependent on crutches.”

David was proficient using his left foot prosthetic but decided to leave it at home on a regular basis and go to work on his crutches. He loved using the crutches around the apartment, just as Peter preferred. On days when he went to work on crutches, he’d tell colleagues that his stump was causing “problems”, and he couldn’t always tolerate the prosthetic. Slowly, he used his crutches more and more, always reminding others that his stump was causing issues, and thus it was not too much of a surprise when Peter announced that David would be away for a while as he would have to have his left leg amputated due to the “problems”.

Peter travelled to Belgium with his lover for the amputation. David was insistent that his complete leg be removed, leaving no stump of any kind. Peter remained with David for a couple of days, then returned by Eurostar and assured Celia and the others that David was doing well and would be back to work soon.

The following weekend Peter went back to Brussels and accompanied David home. The latter had been up on his crutches as soon as possible, and although still heavily bandaged, was sufficiently mobile for the journey back to the UK. A private nurse was employed to dress David’s wound, and David was back to work less than a month after his leg was removed. Walking with crutches seemed completely natural to him, and he felt as if he should have walked this way all this life.

One day, a couple of weeks after his return to work, Peter suggested that they go to a celebrated London restaurant for a celebration meal. “Dress in your best,” said Peter, “and make sure your leg trouser leg is tucked tightly into your belt, showing that there’s nothing left of your left leg.”

On the night of their special dinner, David took particular care to dress just as Peter wanted him to. Once ready, he arrived in the living room of their apartment. “Will I do?” he asked.

Peter almost swooned. “You are divine, my darling,” he said.

Michaelangelo did not make his David more beautiful than Peter’s David. The young man stood resplendent with his black custom crutches, his right leg in skinny beige chinos, the left trouser leg tucked tightly into his belt. His right shoe, a penny loafer, shone just like his ebony-black crutches. His crisp white shirt, with sleeves rolled up showed off his slightly tanned arms and face. His blond hair was trimmed short and brushed neatly to one side.

“You are perfection, my dear man,” said Peter, with a tear in his eye.

“Then let’s go to dinner,” said David.

It became completely normal to see the one-legged young man around the yard, and in the offices of Johnson Builders. The working relationship between David and Peter worked well, and they were both welcomed into their parents’ homes. David’s secretary, a young man called Colin, was secretly in love with David, but knew he was untouchable as the boss’s partner. Celia, older than David, felt protective of the couple, and became much more than a secretary – she was their best friend. She wondered how to engineer a meeting between Peter and David and her brother and his new boyfriend.

Peter and David created a stylish home in the penthouse, and Celia was a regular visitor. It seemed nothing could upset the idyllic situation. But gradually David was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He’d been reliant on crutches for around six months, when he sat with Peter to explain his dilemma.

“I love being one-legged, and using my crutches,” said David, “and I love the image everyone has of me as an amputee –

“So do I,” said Peter, kissing his lover.

“ - but it’s not enough,” continued David. “I really want to lose the other leg so I’d be completely legless, have an amputation just as high as the first one, with no stump, double hip amputee.”

“And be in a wheelchair for ever?” said Peter.

“Absolutely,” said David.

“I think I’d love you even more, if that’s possible, if you were legless; and we can afford for you to go to Belgium and get your right leg removed – but what will we tell everyone?”

“I’ve thought about this,” said David. “I’d say I had a really bad fall, down a flight of stairs or something, and crushed my leg in the fall – something like that. No-one’s likely to question that.”

“We must think carefully about this,” said Peter. “I’ll support you, but we must have a good story for  everyone else. We cannot rush things.”

“Let’s plan a holiday together, and then go and get my amputation. You could come back ahead of me whilst I’m recovering, and tell them I had a bad fall, then come back when I’ve recovered enough to travel, just like the last time, and I’d come home on the Eurostar as a double leg amp.”

“How soon do you want to do it?” said Peter.

“I’d like to have a full year on crutches,” said David, “but as long as I know the plan, I’d not feel so desperate to get the next amputation, and I’d be able to focus on enjoying being a crutcher for many more months, secure in the knowledge that my right leg will be gone in less than a year.”

The boys’ life continued happily for many months, Peter constantly in admiration for his one-legged lover; and David enjoying his last weeks on crutches before his next amputation. The business flourished, and the couple made small adjustments to their flat ensuring that it would be ready for the time when David became a full-time wheelchair user. They worked hard and genuinely needed the holiday that they’d been planning. They would tell everyone that they were going to Amsterdam for a while, although in fact they alighted from the Eurostar in Brussels. A taxi took them to the private clinic where David would lose his right leg.

Climbing out of the taxi, David stood tall on his crutches. “Last few steps on this leg,” he said.

“No second thoughts? said Peter.

“None,” said David. “I’m impatient to get it done.”

“Then let’s go in,” said Peter.

When David revived from the anaesthetic, Peter was sitting beside him.

“Is it gone?”

“Yes,” said Peter, “you’re only half the man you used to be.”

“I’m pleased,” said David.

Peter remained at the clinic for a couple more days, waiting for the extraordinary moment when David sat up for the first time and saw that there really was nothing of him below his pelvis.

“Amazing,” was all he could say, and then after a long pause, “just wonderful.”

Peter returned home on Eurostar, thinking carefully about the story he’d tell his parents, and David’s mother and everyone at work. They’d been staying at one of those picturesque old hotels in the Jordaan, the kind with exceptionally steep stairs, and David had slipped, crashing from top to bottom and landing heavily on his right leg, smashing the bones into many pieces. Dutch doctors had considered trying to put his leg back together, but it was too damaged, and even if they succeeded in some kind of repair, it would never have been strong enough to support David, remembering that he didn’t have a left leg, and his right had been doing a lot more work than is usually demanded of a leg. With great sadness, he’d agreed with David’s insistence that the leg be removed.

He'd left David in a jolly and happy mood in the Belgian clinic, and quickly visited David’s mother, and his own parents, and then gone into his office to tell Celia. No-one questioned the story.

Peter had already identified where a lift would be installed in the office building so that David could return to work in his wheelchair. Having awarded many lift installations for various buildings over the years, Peter had a good relationship with the firm they’d used before, and asked his contact to accelerate the time that would normally be taken to get a new installation in place. He spoke to David’s secretary who was confident that he’d be able to keep things ‘ticking over’ until David returned to work. He spoke to David e evening on his phone, and it was agreed that he’d travel to the clinic just ten days after the operation to bring David home.

Peter was relieved that no-one had questioned the story he’d fabricated about the reason for the amputation of David’s right leg; his worst challenge was comforting David’s mother, who was tearful when told the news, and found it hard to accept that her boy could lead a happy life in a wheelchair.

Only his secretary Celia frowned when she discovered that Peter was returning to Brussels to bring David home. “I thought you said David’s accident was in Amsterdam,” she said. “How come he’s in a Belgian clinic?”

“They know him there,” said Peter, “so I arranged for him to transfer there for the amputation. He was also much happier going to back a place he was familiar with.”

“And are you taking a wheelchair with you to Brussels?” she said.

“Yes,” said Peter. There was a pause and he nearly spoke out loud: “David chose the chair he wanted before we went to Belgium,” he thought, and was shocked how close he’d come to making a big mistake. Celia was already oddly suspicious, and any slipped remark like that would have alerted her to what was going on.

Peter took a small bag of clothes for David, remembering as he packed the bag that David would never again wear long trousers or shoes. Just two weeks since they’d set out on their sham holiday to Amsterdam, Peter was back on Eurostar to bring his lover home.

In the Belgian clinic, David was already wheeling himself about in one of the clinic’s chairs and was delighted when Peter arrived with the lightweight sports chair which he’d chosen some weeks before. He transferred instantly, and happily practised his developing skills as a wheeler. Peter had booked them into a hotel in Brussels, and it was there that he saw his lover naked for the first time.

Peter gasped despite knowing what he would see. “There’s really nothing left, is there,” he said. “No legs at all.”

“Completely gone,” grinned David. “I’m still pretty sore but I’m fairly well healed and most of the swelling is going down. Isn’t it wonderful?”

There was no reason to hurry home, so the pair went on to Amsterdam, and stayed in five-star Krasnapolsky luxury for a few days. David needed quite a lot of pushing over Amsterdam’s humped bridges but was gaining in strength daily. By the time they were boarding the Eurostar for home, he was becoming more independent than Peter expected.

Once back in their flat, David remained at home for several more days to fully heal and develop his strength. They enjoyed the intimacy of sleeping together, and Peter slowly got used to feeling his lover’s scars and the strange space where once there had been legs. David loved Peter feeling the site of his amputations and encouraged him to massage what was left of his pelvis.

One night, after a long session of massage and kissing, David was snuggled in the crook of Peter’s arm, and he spoke quietly. “Now my darling,” he said, “What excuse can we think of for the amputation of my left arm?”

Peter smiled. “I knew you’d be thinking about your next amputation,” he said, “but I think you should have some years as a wheeler before you make yourself even more disabled.”

“I know,” said David, “but it will always be there in my mind. When can I go back to the clinic again?”

Johnson Builders flourished and grew. Peter found himself running a successful organisation, although the company remained in the modest base his father had created. Peter and David got married, and they appeared to be a happy and settled partnership. Their colleagues became used to David’s wheelchair and his leglessness, and it clearly did not affect his effectiveness at work.

Time passed, and Peter wondered if David had forgotten his thoughts about further amputations. This was not true, and although David did not talk about it, he secretly longed for another amputation.

One day, the business had an opportunity to redevelop a large Victorian mental hospital. The old buildings would be transformed into spacious apartments, and many new homes would be built in the extensive grounds. Before work could start, much of the overgrown site had to be cleared. And that is why there was a machine in the yard which could chop branches and bushes into tiny pieces.

David spotted the possibility first but didn’t say anything. It was Celia who told Peter, “You’d better not let David go near that machine in the yard!”

“Why not?” said Peter unthinkingly.

“He’ll put his hand into it, you mark my words,” said Celia.

“What are you saying?” said Peter.

“I know your lovely husband too well,” smiled Celia. “You don’t think I believed that tale about him falling downstairs all those years ago, do you? I’ve always been suspicious.”

At that moment there was a great roaring of the engine of the tree-shedder in the yard. Peter and Celia dashed to the window. David had fired up the machine and was beside it, staring into its fearful jaws. Celia opened the window, “Don’t!” she screamed, but at that moment David thrust his left hand into the shredder.

“Fuck,” said Peter, and rushed towards the stairs. Celia turned and calmly dialled 999 and asked for an ambulance.

In the ambulance with his left hand gone and the remains of his left arm a bloody mess, Peter looked at his husband and was lost for words. “There was a big log jammed in the machine,” said David, “I was trying to shift it.”

Peter just shook his head. “You wait until I get you home,” and then he smiled, knowing that his husband had achieved the next amputation which he desired. Now he would have to live with three limbs missing. Despite the agony of the injury, and the almighty mess he’d made of his left arm, Peter knew that David would be happy.

With David in a London hospital, Peter returned to work, and talked to the young man Colin who was David’s secretary. “I don’t know how long he’ll be away, or even if he’ll be able to work well when he gets back,” said Peter, “so I’m upgrading you, and asking you to assume all of David’s responsibilities.”

David had been in the hospital for a few days, when there was an unexpected crisis with Celia. Peter had noticed that she wasn’t her normal cheerful self and asked her if there was anything wrong. She burst into tears.

“It’s my brother,” she said. “You know Bob’s gay, don’t you?”

Peter nodded.

“Well he and his boyfriend went on a holiday to Amsterdam,” she started hesitantly, “and it seems they knew the same clinic in Brussels that you and David know about.”

“What!” gasped Peter.

Celia nodded. “Yes, they got back yesterday, and Bob’s had a leg cut off.” There was a long pause, with Peter not knowing what to think or say, and Celia reluctant to go on. “I’ve been suspicious about David ever since his first leg was taken off. Most people who lose a foot keep the rest of their leg for the rest of their lives. It just seemed odd to me that he lost the whole leg so soon. And then when he lost his other leg, I told my brother all about it, and my brother asked me if I’d ever heard of BiiD.”

Peter let out a long sigh. “So you realised what was happening with David.”

“I wasn’t sure until that dreadful tree-eating machine appeared in the yard. Who had been keen that we clear the shrubs ourselves and not sub-contract? David, of course. He was enthusiastic to get that machine for one reason only – to stick his hand in it.” She looked at Peter, as tears fell down her cheeks.

“Is your Bob OK?” said Peter, feeling unable to respond adequately to the increasingly confusing situation.

“Yes, I think so,” replied Celia, “but there’s been too much happening all at once. I’d like to see David and tell him I still love him; I’d like you to come and meet my brother, and I want my brother to get to know David, and I don’t know why, but I can’t stop crying.”

That evening, Peter took Celia to visit David. “She knows,” he told David. “She knows about BiiD, and she knows it wasn’t an accident.”

“And it’s OK,” said Celia. “We will still be friends.”

“And there’s more,” said Peter. “Go on, Celia, tell David your news, and don’t cry!”

“You know I’ve got a gay brother?” said Celia. David smiled. “Well, he went to the same clinic as you in Brussels.”

David smiled. “He’s not…..”

It was Celia’s turn to nod, “Yes, his left leg was taken off a couple of weeks ago.”

“If that’s what he wanted, and I bet he’s wanted it for years and years, then he’ll be a happy man. As soon as I get out of this hospital, I want to meet him – or is he recovered enough to come and visit me here?”

“I’m going with Celia to be introduced this evening,” said Peter.

“But there’s one thing you must both promise me,” said Celia. “Please don’t say anything to Bob which might encourage him to have another amputation.”

“That wouldn’t happen,” said David. “No-one would ever be persuaded to have an amputation that they didn’t deep down need. If Bob’s happy and fulfilled and wants to go on for his whole life with one leg, then I sure that’s his destiny. Mine’s been different.”

Later that evening Peter went with Celia to David’s apartment, and met not only newly amputated Bob, but also his boyfriend Jason.

“My sister told me about David some time ago, but I didn’t tell her how much I understood and had similar feelings. When got back from Belgium,” said Bob, “she said she was suspicious, but the fact that I returned without one of my legs, and we’d been to Brussels, made her pretty confident that she’d come to the correct conclusion.”

“Are you pleased with your amputation?” said Peter.

“Absolutely,” said Bob. “I expect David’s told you what’s it’s like. Living with BiiD for year after year, and not getting the limb removed. I knew I was destined to be one-legged since I was a small child; I expect David said the same to you.”

The three men suddenly became aware that Celia was crying. “What ever is the matter?” said Bob. “There’s nothing to cry about. We are all happy.”

“But where will it stop?” said Celia. “It’s hard for me to understand, and I’m finding it hard to cope.”

“Come and hug me, you old softie,” said Bob, “and listen. It’s finished for me. My dream and my destiny has always been to be one legged, and dependent on using crutches fulltime. I’ve achieved it. There will be no more amputations for me.”

“I’m not so sure with my boyfriend,” said Peter. “I hope he’s satisfied, but I can’t be sure. Will he want to lose the other arm as well?”

“I’d like to meet him,” said Bob. “I’ve got pretty good on my crutches, so I think I’ll be OK to visit the hospital. Do you think I could?”

“David has already asked for you to visit him,” said Peter, “so we can all go tomorrow.”

“Too much of a crowd,” said Celia. “You take Bob and introduce him, then leave them to talk. I think they’ll have a lot to say to one another.”

David recognised the distinct ‘click’ of cheap crutches as Bob crutched slowly along the corridor to David’s bed. His left arm was heavily bandaged and painful for him to move, but he was half sitting up when Bob came into sight.

David grinned. “You must be Celia’s brother,” he said. “I’ve been hoping to meet you ever since Celia said you’d had your leg off. How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” said Bob, sitting, “I’m disappointed that I run out of energy quickly. I never did much pretending with crutches before, so I’m really inexperienced.”

“You sounded good coming down the corridor,” said David.

“I feel good too,” said Bob. “I knew I be pleased with getting the amputation, but I never realised how wonderful I would feel.”

“Yes, it is amazing,” said David, “and don’t worry, your strength will gradually build, and soon you’ll have forgotten all about having two legs, and you’ll be celebrating your new normal.”

“Can I ask,” said Bob, “if you have still got your left elbow? The bandaging is so huge.”

David smiled. “Only someone who knows about amputations would ask such a thing,” he said. “Yes, apparently there’s still an elbow there, but the woodchipper did a great job, and really mangled me. I’ve had one operation to tidy it up, but it’s not healing, and I’m going for another operation in a week or so, when my elbow will be taken off and a much nicer, shorter stump created. I’m impatient to see the result, but it’s going to be a while before my new stump can be shown to the world.”

Peter and Bob’s boyfriend Jason appeared at the foot of the bed. “Nurse says we mustn’t stay long and make you tired,” said Peter.

“That’s OK,” said David. “We’ve got the rest of our lives to get to know one another more. I know we are going to be the best of friends.”

“We must go,” said Peter. “Celia’s waiting.”

“Wait a moment,” said David. “You know that I kept my black titanium crutches from when I was one-legged, the one’s that we had made to measure and can’t be adjusted? I can see that Bob is close to my height. Can you go home via our flat and get those crutches for Bob to try. If they’re not exact, we can arrange for the factory to adjust them. We can’t have Bob clicking along on those old aluminium crutches – it will be good to give my old black ones a new lease of life.”

Peter Johnson’s business thrived, and he was soon a self-made millionaire. David bought a state-of-the-art electric wheelchair, and eventually was back at work, although he was reliant on his former secretary, now an equal colleague for getting the work done. Bob and Jason became their best friends, and Celia remained an old maid, mothering them all. Bob wasn’t interested in further amputations and loved his image of being a young one-legged man reliant on crutches at all times. As the business expanded, both Bob and Jason came to work for Johnson’s, and with Peter’s help bought the other penthouse on the top floor of the building where Peter and David lived.

There was only one problem: David was constantly hunting for a way to lose his right hand and arm. He knew that no-one would approve, and even Peter would be upset. As a completely limbless torso, he was sure he’d master a mouth-controlled wheelchair, but he realised he’d need a lot of help in his daily life. He also knew that Celia, who he had grown to love as much as his own mother, was constantly watching for him. There seemed to be no way he’d get his fourth limb removed with her keeping an eye on him.

But one day he knew he’d fulfil his destiny. It was only a matter of time and being at the right place and the right time…

 

SLOWLY DISAPPEARING