Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Now come have coffee and cookies.”
“I have a call to make first.”
“All right. Coffee after.” She paused. “And I understand you do a pretty magical thing with those parallel bars. Would you show us?”
I knew I could say no. But I also knew they wanted to encourage me, and seeing me upright would show them how far I had come.
I winked at her. “Prepare to be dazzled.”
I had never tried to comfort a person still caught between being a young man and a grown-ass adult. I had never reached out and been the role model.
It was another lesson I was learning.
Brad was emotional. Filled with apologies. Begging for forgiveness. Once I broke through his stuttering words and barely held-back sobs, I set him straight.
“What happened was not your fault. You didn’t put me in this wheelchair, Brad. None of it is your doing. You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Get some help. I’ll ask Randy to take you on. He is an amazing person to help you sort things out and get your head straight.” I barked out a laugh. “If he can handle my shit, he can help you.”
“But he’s there.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Which is where you need to be. You have a life waiting here for you, Brad. A job you’re good at. Friends. Family.” I huffed out a breath. “Don’t let that day define you. Move past it.”
“The guilt,” he said quietly. “It holds me hostage. That I’m walking around, able to move and do things. While you’re…” His voice trailed off, and I heard him swallow.
“I’m recovering. One day soon, I’ll be walking around again. I’ll pick up my life, and I expect you to be part of it. Hell, kid, we were making progress on your attitude and smart mouth. Don’t leave me before I have you fully brought to heel.”
He laughed, the sound relieving the tension between us.
“How are you doing otherwise?” I asked.
He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can ever drive again. I have trouble getting in a car.”
“I know that feeling. I get stressed too. But I’m working through it with Randy. Come back, and we’ll work on it together.”
“Yeah?” He sounded dubious.
“Yes. Your uncle wants you back, and so do I.” I was surprised to realize I was telling the truth.
He sighed, the sound deep and filled with pain.
“Don’t let that guy’s bad choices dictate your life, Brad. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it one day.”
“Okay. The cast comes off next week. I’ll talk to Graham about coming back.”
“Good man.”
“Can I come see you?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Gracie would be too.”
“I like her. She’s a cute kid. Smart as a whip.”
I grinned into the phone.
“Of course she is. She’s mine.”
I looked at the piece of equipment in front of me with thinly disguised disgust. I pushed it away.
“Walkers are for old people.”
“Or people recovering from spinal injuries,” Colin retorted calmly, pushing the offending walker back in front of me.
“I don’t want a walker.”
“I don’t care. You need to stop relying on the chair. Use the walker to get around. Once you’re more relaxed, we’ll start gait training. After, you’ll move to a rolling walker. And after that, a cane.”
“Why can’t I have the rolling walker now?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Because you’re still unsteady. This one gives you support. Once you’ve found your balance again, you get the rolling one.” He indicated the other walker sitting beside the chair.
“Take the stupid basket off it.”
Colin chuckled. “It comes in handy.” He picked up one of Gracie’s stuffed bears and set it inside. “See? You can bring a friend.”
“Ha-ha.” I picked up the bear and tossed it.
Colin crossed his arms. “Starting Monday, the parallel bars go. The wheelchair goes. This is what you use. You have all weekend to glare at it, curse my name, and act like a spoiled child. But it’s happening.”
I shut my eyes and counted to ten. Then I did it again. “Jesus. You’ve been channeling Aiden. Is it really what needs to happen?”
“Yes. It’s the next step in your journey, Richard. One I know you want to happen as much as I want that for you.” He pushed the walker in front of me. “Try it.”
I stood, gripping the foam-covered handles. The familiar pain hit, and I stilled, waiting for it to pass.
“Go slow, Richard. One foot in front of the other. Use the walker for support.”
It felt odd. My arms out in front of me instead of to the side. It took more effort and concentration. I walked a few steps and had to sit down in the wheelchair Colin pushed in behind me.
“Should it be that hard?”
He blew out a breath. “Everyone is different, Richard. The severity of your injury, the coma, it all contributes. I know it seems forever, but it’s only been a matter of weeks. Two to three months before walking properly is not unheard of. Even longer. The fact that you are up, and this strong is good. We build—remember? Each day, one more rep, one more step until we don’t have to count them. Until you can stand without thinking. Walk without concentration. It will come.”