RIVER
I’ve been back at the estate for a week now, and no matter how easily I’ve re-learned the layout of the building, it still feels completely foreign to me. I’d say it’s overly formal, like I’m always underdressed if I’m wearing something that isn’t a dress or a pantsuit. It reminds me of what I imagine the Capitol building is like inside, just miles of opulent artwork, marble floors, and the rigid expectation to be well-behaved.
Today is my first day of physical therapy. The therapist will be arriving at the estate shortly, and even though I’ve been awake for a few hours, I still feel underprepared. I haven’t really interacted with many people since I woke up. The only people who have been in my room are Adas and Erik.
Just as I’m smoothing my hair for the thirteenth time, I hear a knock on the door. “River? It’s Andrew, the physical therapist. Are you ready for me?”
I jump at the sound of his voice, so clear and smooth that it’s like glass. “Um, yes, just a moment,” I reply as I adjust my blankets to look lived in but not messy.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
My voice is wavering, but I need to keep myself under control. Adas needs me to recover. He needs his wife back. I need to be strong for him.
Andrew walks through the door, and he’s just as I’d imagine any physical therapist to be. He’s a nerd who is in slightly better shape than I’d expect an IT service desk operator to be. His hair is combed instead of strategically messed up to give a carefree, devil-may-care look. Certainly not a bad boy like Adas.
“Okay, what I’m going to do first is stretch your legs a little just to keep the blood flowing. I talked with Adas when he first brought you home. Has he been doing the leg massages that I recommended?” Andrew asks as he approaches my bedside.
I sit up straighter, trying as hard as I can to keep him from looking down at me. “Yes, he has been. He’s very attentive,” I say, just as much to myself as to Andrew.
“Okay, perfect. I’m going to have you lie on your back, and then I’m going to raise one knee to your chest. I’ll hold it there for a moment, and then I’ll switch sides. That okay?” he asks, his voice overly professional while his expression tells me that he’s dying to make friends with anybody who will talk to him.
I nod, and I lower myself back down. Out of habit, I attempt to lift my foot up to make things easier for Andrew, but then I remember that he wouldn’t be here if I could do something like that. Whenever I think about how frustrated I am about being paralyzed, I automatically take a deep breath in. It seems to be the only way I can retain my sanity at all.
He stretches my left leg first, and it’s still so alien to me to see someone interacting with my limbs in such an involved way without me feeling it. It’s honestly terrifying, watching him push my knee up to my chest and seeing it go back down. He could have done it in my sleep, and I’d never know.
When he switches to the right leg, I feel a wave of panic attack me for a moment before I’m able to calm myself again. Being at the mercy of a stranger like this is just as paralyzing as the injury itself.
“Alright, now can you try to move your toes for me? There’s no pressure, but it is important to make sure you’re trying as hard as you can to move your progress forward,” he says, moving down to the end of the bed and poking my toes with a pen.
I hate the way he said that.You are the only one who can make yourself better.
I try to move my toes, but I have no luck. I’m frustrated, and Andrew can see that on my face.
He glances up at me with sympathy, which makes me want to scream. “I’m sure that in time, we’ll start to see some movement. From what I understand, your injury isn’t permanent, at least not within our abilities to see so.”
I give him a curt, pandering smile as he moves on to the next exercise.
He continues shifting my body all over the bed for a half-hour or so, turning me on my side to engage my hip flexors and making me sit up again to test the flexibility in my spine. It’s hard to reach my toes since I’ve been lying flat on my back for so long, but I’m determined not to just lie down and let this injury kick me in the ass.
“You’re doing great. With regular therapy, I’m sure we’ll be seeing incremental progress with you,” he says cheerfully as he packs up his paperwork.
Just as he’s about to leave, Adas enters the room. “Hey Andrew, how’s she doing? Looking better?” Adas asks eagerly.
“Yeah, no major roadblocks or pain that I can detect. At least, not that she’s telling me,” Andrew replies, glancing over to me with a knowing grin. “She’s like a cat, good at covering her pain. Make sure you’re extra diligent with her pain levels.”
When he leaves, Adas begins to step closer to my bed, and I can smell booze and strong smoke on him the closer he gets.
“Where the hell did you just come from? It’s ten in the morning,” I ask, trying not to project my voice too much. I don’t want to seem like a complete harpy, but I’m also in a great deal of pain, just like Andrew had detected with his female-whispering senses. Or whatever.
“I had a meeting at one of my nightclubs. It went a little later than we expected, but we covered a lot of ground,” he replies, overcompensating as he tries not to slur his words.
“Is this something you do a lot?” I ask cautiously, feeling that familiar bubble of anxiety and trepidation in my chest again.
“Uh, not too often, but it does happen. It’s just business,” he deflects, crossing his arms over his chest and standing up straighter than normal.
He must be absolutely hammered.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What is the business, exactly?”