Page 47 of Forging Chaos

I furrow my brow. “It’s a boat.”

She grins. “It’s an adaptive rowing boat! I talked to your trainer and?—”

“Mom, they’re not supposed to just talk to you. What the hell? Don’t I have privacy or something?”

She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t discuss your particular situation. I asked what sort of rowing someone might try after an Achilles repair. This boat has a regular seat for me, and I set one up for you with just one foot pad. We’ll each use two oars…”

I tune out as she babbles about how we will both hop in the river and splash our way around the island ten or twenty times. I don’t bother to point out that I can’t help her carry the boat to the dock, but she surprises me by unlocking little wheels on the boat slings. She’s whistling her way down the ramp before I can respond, and she hoists the boat into the water on her own, reminding me that my mom is still jacked.

I scratch my chin and stare as she sets the oars up near the boat. “How will I get in? This is all awkward…”

Mom braces herself on the dock and tells me to squat low and take her hand. I do and step into the boat with my good leg, which is not the leg closest to the water. “You couldn’t set up the boat in the other direction?” I grumble and clench my core as the boat rocks.

Mom steadies it with one foot. “Just sit down, kid.”

I lower my butt into the seat, acknowledging that this is already a fantastic workout just climbing aboard. Mom is in her element in the seat behind me. “All right, O. Grab your oars. You remember. Yes, now strap your left foot to the boards. I set the footpad as big as it goes. I hope it works okay for your monster feet.”

I grunt at her and get myself situated. I haven’t rowed with her for a long time, but we sometimes do the rowing machine for workouts with football, and I’m sure my technique is still good. Mom pushes us off the dock, and when I glance over my shoulder, she’s pretty much just holding the boat steady while I do all the work. She grins at me. “Doesn’t the burn feel good, baby? Do you miss it?”

I glower at her because she’s right. This feels amazing. Mywork at physical therapy has been very focused on small movements for my ankle. Then, I’m sometimes allowed to do seated upper body workouts, and if I’m very, very polite, Prachi lets me do one-legged squats.

But this is grabbing every part of my body except my right leg. I feel the movements in my hips. I feel my whole back working the oars in the river, and when I lean back, I feel the sun on my face as I dig in, which gets us going a little faster. “All right,” I admit. “This is nice.”

Mom chuckles and starts bossing me around like she’s the coxswain. She must have already worked out today because otherwise, I don’t think she’d be able to stand just sitting there holding her oars out of the way. We make a full lap around the island before she joins in, confident I’m not going to tip the boat with my uneven pressure.

We do two more laps before she calls it, and we approach the dock. There, we do the whole dance in reverse to get me out of the boat and the boat back up on the slings.

I lean heavily on my knee roller as I follow her. “That was pretty good, Mom. I’m sorry I was a jerk about it.”

She smiles. “Just wait until you can walk on that cast. One of the guys from the masters team is an orthopedic surgeon. He thinks you could be rowing fully, regularly, by October.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I haven’t let myself think about October or anything beyond finishing my spring semester classes. Even that’s new for me ever since my body broke.

“Mom, October is…I don’t even know where I’ll be living in August.”

She beckons me to follow her to her car and helps me get my scooter in the back seat. Once we’re both buckled inside, she turns on the air and says, “I was thinking about that, too. I know how much you love team sports. Did you know they have a crew team at Oxford?”

My eyes fly wide. “Mom, what did you do?” Thora’s already furious with me for helping her fly to England. She will murder me if I show up there on the crew team. “I can’t just enroll at Oxford. I didn’t even finish college.”

Mom waves a hand and puts the car in gear, heading back toward the bridge to the highway. “You’ll finish your classes in a few weeks. Did you know the dean of admissions at Oxford was an Olympic rower, too?” I snort at my mother, who apparently has a PhD in meddling. Mom nods. “She’s a little younger than me, but we’re on the same online forums.”

“Mom. You are insane. I can’t just move to England and row boats now that I’m done playing football.”

She scoffs like I’m the one being ridiculous. “Why not? You love team sports. You’re an accomplished athlete. And you need a little time to figure out your next steps in the world. What’s the harm in a little master’s degree?”

“Okay,” I pat her hand. “Let’s pretend this idea isn’t utterly ridiculous. Why Oxford? Why aren’t you sending me to your old stomping grounds in Boston or something?”

She rolls her eyes, absolutely fed up with my apparent stupidity. “Two reasons, kid. First, you can compete for your university as a graduate student in the UK. Second, you can go win back your girl!”

Like it’s so easy. Like she’d ever consider being mine. But Mom’s idea does rekindle the curiosity Wyatt set off about a career in sports psychology. Who better to step into that role than someone who has walked that walk?

Mom drops me off at my apartment, where Wyatt’s room is totally empty, Gunnar is half packed, and I realize that I’m powerless against the river of change flowing through my life.

Maybe my mom’s idea isn’t so ridiculous. It certainly beats living in my parents’ basement while I figure out what comes next for me. Oxford is a big place. If Thora tells me to go pound sand, our paths don’t need to cross. And I can getto some of Wyatt’s games while I’m over there figuring out how to walk again.

I text Thora that I’m sorry, I’m here if she’s willing to talk, and I lock myself in my room to scrape together a passing set of grades for the semester that just ended.

CHAPTER 35

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