Page 146 of Learning Curve

Their responses come in seconds later, a variation of shock, surprise, and relief. All of which I completely understand. There’s a small part of me that feels sad for my dad, but it’s so small that if I blink a few more times, it’ll disappear on the wind.

I don’t know what I thought would happen when I set foot on Dickson’s campus at the beginning of the year, but I know with certainty I never anticipated this. My mind rolls through everything that’s happened over the past year, and I find myself scrolling through my other text conversations.

Ace and Blake, two guys I didn’t know at the start of the year who have now become my best friends.

Julia and Kayla. Scottie’s friends who have become my friends.

My group chat with all the Winslow siblings—who are my siblings too. It’s been nonstop chatter since Scottie got hurt. Every single one of them wanting to stay updated on her condition. Every single one of them offering support in whatever way they can.

My separate conversation with Ty, whom I’ve grown so close with over the past few months that I actually feel like he’s my own full flesh and blood. In a weird way, he’s become a bit of a father figure that I’ve never had.

My siblings, of course. And despite the bomb I just dropped on them, our group chat has gone from ugly things happening within our house to peace and joy and happiness.

My mom. Ever since my father has been out of the picture, she’s starting to find herself again and working through the guilt that comes with not leaving and getting us out of that house sooner. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, and she never had the support we have from the Winslows when she was trying to do it on her own.

Scottie’s sister, Wren. Even her dad. For the past week, they’ve been keeping me updated on Scottie’s condition and welcomed my loitering with open arms. Yesterday was the first day they left Scottie’s bedside to go back to Westchester because they couldn’t miss any more shifts from their jobs.

And of course, Scottie. I scroll up, past all my most recent text messages to her that have gone unanswered and look at the exchanges we had before she got hurt.

There are more I love yous than I can count. There’s teasing and flirting and the kind of happy, cutesy fucking texts that probably would’ve made me want to puke a year ago.

I miss her.

She’s the only missing piece to my happily-ever-after.

Thursday May 1st

Scottie

Sweat drips from my brow and my neck and my armpits and my boobs as I use all my strength to lift myself up from my wheelchair and into my bed. My arms shake and my hands cramp, and when my ass is halfway toward my mattress, my elbows start to buckle, but I force a deep inhale of oxygen into my lungs and muster every ounce of power I have to complete the distance. Once my butt hits the bed, I almost slip off the edge, but my physical therapist is there to help ease me back a few inches so I don’t hit the floor.

“Great job, Scottie!” Pam exclaims. “I can’t believe how strong you’re getting.”

“I don’t feel strong.” I blow out a breath of air from my pursed lips, and it forces a few pieces of sweat-drenched hair away from my face. “If you weren’t here, I would’ve ended up on the floor.”

“Scottie, it’s been two weeks, and the progress you’ve made is unreal,” she reassures with a soft smile as she hands me a glass of water with a straw. I take a sip. “Normally, you wouldn’t be able to do any part of a transfer until the four-week mark at most. Usually, for most patients, it can take six to eight weeks, depending on their upper body strength. You’re doing amazing. Don’t get discouraged.”

I try to take her words in and believe them as truth, but it’s hard. Then again, everything feels hard these days.

My entire medical team has been excited about my progress. Dr. Hurst was over the moon this morning when he found out I had managed to successfully ask a nurse to help me to the bathroom without having an accident. Prior to that, I was either pissing myself without knowing or the staff had to catheterize me.

Now, I wouldn’t say I’ve all of a sudden gotten feeling in my bladder, but I did feel the teeniest inkling of something, and when you combine that with the fact that I’ve paid enough attention to understand how often I usually go, it helped achieve that milestone. The me from three weeks ago never thought peeing in the toilet would be this exciting, but the me of today actually smiled over it.

It’s at least a tiny shred of normalcy.

“Do you need anything before I go?” Pam asks, and I shake my head.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Scottie.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“And while I’m gone, do me a favor and give yourself a pat on the back, okay? You’ve made leaps and bounds that I honestly didn’t think would be possible this early.”

I make a show of reaching up with my right hand to pat myself on the back. “Way to go, me,” I say sarcastically.

Pam just laughs and rolls her eyes. “One of these days, Scottie, I’m going to get you to say that, and you’re actually going to believe it.”

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