The memories I’d locked away, and the worst day of my life, would eat away at me forever if I didn’t relive them one last time.
Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward on the couch and selected the black pen and black notebook.
It was time to embrace the suck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* Molly *
I’ve always been an optimistic person, but my hopes and dreams had usually been for others, rather than myself.
One of the reasons I became a physical therapist was that I loved watching people overcome obstacles. I loved being a cheerleader for people, helping them acknowledge the tiniest bit of progress, and celebrate every milestone.
This time, though, it was unbelievably personal.
I could feel that James was a truly good person, but he wasn’t doing himself any favors by keeping things locked away.
Being slightly pushy with physical health was helpful most of the time, and everyone seemed to tolerate it from me, because of my positive attitude.
Pushing James out of his comfort zone with his personal and emotional issues felt terrifying. To be honest, he didn’t seem to have a comfort zone. It felt like the wall he kept around himself was two stories high, and he didn’t enjoy it.
It had probably given him some stability and comfort in the beginning, but now the slightest stress might make him crumble.
I went home to take a long bath to try to calm down. I was so nervous that my muscles had begun to tense up.
My biggest fear was that James would shut me out and stop speaking to me. He could easily change clinics, and never see me again. Or worse, stop doing his exercises completely. Even if he was angry, I needed him to keep the lines of communication open.
After half an hour in the tub listening to a podcast about the health benefits of hiking, I wrapped myself in my cozy robe and curled up on the couch. Reaching for my phone, I saw that James had sent me a text, flooding me with relief.
James: I’ve been writing for over an hour straight, baby. You’re right. I need to get some of this crap out of my head.
James: This is unbelievably painful, and I have a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I need you to know that I’m trying.
Me: I’m so proud of you. Take breaks if you need to, but keep at it when you can.
James: I’m going to write until my hand falls off. Sleep well, and I’ll call you tomorrow. Hugs.
Me: Can’t wait. xox
I fell into an uneasy sleep, somehow hopeful and anxious and rattled all at the same time.
My bed seemed too big without James in it. It was probably selfish of me to miss his arms around me when he was going through so much, but I did. I felt so much more grounded when he was near me. The whole world felt more solid. Stable. As if he were some sort of weight that tethered me to the world properly.
I woke up feeling a bit better, and spent the day trying to keep busy with house cleaning and errands. Just after dinner, my phone rang. “Hello?”
“I miss you so much, baby,” that deep voice rumbled. “I don’t want to stop writing, but I had to call to thank you.”
“You’re still at it?”
“Yeah – I was up half the night, and started again this morning.”
“That’s a lot,” I said slowly. “Are you stretching out your wrist and arm?” I instantly started to laugh. “Sorry, it’s just how I’m wired.”
James chuckled as well. “I actually thought of that when my hand began to cramp up, so I set an alarm to remind me to stretch it out every hour.”
“That’s a really good idea.”
“Also, you’ll be happy to know that my doctor called. He’s already sent me antibiotics that won’t interfere with my painkillers. It should clear up within a few days, but I’m supposed to go easy and watch it for at least two weeks.”