Swapsies

“It’s not what I want,” Ralph began.  “It’s how you feel.  We’re talking surgery, here.”

“Obviously,” said Laurie.  “No magic wands here.  Maybe magic hands, so to speak.  I have read about the new developments, you know.  They’ve been reported in the papers for several years now, since it was just at the experimental stage.  Let me point out that a surgeon suggested I might be a candidate.  Granted, I’ve never been under Alec’s knife—and it wouldn’t be him in this case anyway—but I’ve never got the impression you considered him incompetent.”

“It’s not that,” said Ralph.  He looked uncharacter­ist­ic­ally uncertain.

“What is it, then?  The risks?  I could say that they’re mine to take—”

“Yes, of course.”  Ralph nodded a bit too quickly.

“—but I’m not going to.”  At the puzzled expression, Laurie almost smiled.  “We’ve been together for too long, love.  Oh, on and off, what with the world and all that; but effectively we’ve been together since 1940.  I’m not going to say we’re married—”

“That would be silly.”

“—but, as far as I’m concerned, we might as well be.”  Laurie contemplated his whatever-word-was-best (English names for relationships having their limitations) with more than a little worry.  “Is it the risk, Ralph?  Because that’s not a foolish thing to worry about.  After all, it’s still fairly new surgery.  But it’s not a question of being wheeled into the operating theatre tomorrow, or even next week.  Alec is only suggesting I see the chap for an evaluation.  It may not even be possible, you know.”

The door to the hall was open; and involuntarily Ralph glanced down to the carved wooden stand by the coat closet, which held the usual furled black umbrellas but also a well-used cane.  From Laurie’s expression he realized that his shift of position had been spotted.  “But you’ve got used to that, surely?” he said quietly, with a nod towards the cane.  “After all these years.  And that, too.”  He gestured down towards the surgical boot on Laurie’s foot.

“Used to, yes,” said Laurie gently.  “Hardly in love with them, though.  Not that I expect miracles, of course.  Can you see me go go-go-dancing at some disco­theque?”

Ralph’s lips twitched.

“Or hiking the Pennines, then.  Or even running for the bus.  I don’t expect the freedom of youth, Ralph,” said Laurie in very sensible tones.  “We’re neither of us boys still—or even middle-aged, really.”  With a twinkle, he added, “Maybe late middle age.  I’ll admit to that.  Put it this way:  it would be nice if, some day, I could climb the stairs or walk a cobbled street as easily as anyone else.”  He paused for a moment, and then added softly, “As easily as you.”

Ralph nodded slowly.  “I can’t argue with that … if you just want to dip your toe in the water, so to speak.”  He smiled.  “Ask Alec for details, then.  Can’t hurt.”

“Oh, it will hurt,” said Laurie wryly.  “It’s a big operation, after all, getting a knee replacement.”