Page 14 of High Velocity

She stares at me for a moment, definitely uncomfortable under my scrutiny, when she suddenly drops her eyes to the floor.

“A little,” she admits in a soft voice, before adding more forcefully, “I think it has more to do with me than you though.”

I gently push. “How so?”

She shrugs, moving past me to the sink and turning on the faucet to wash the dishes. I grab a towel from the hook and step up beside her. She darts me a quick glance and sighs.

“I had a bit of a health scare a little over a month ago and ended up in the hospital. It wasn’t as bad as it initially looked,” she rushes to clarify. “But, apparently, serious enough for my boss to pull me off the job until things have stabilized.”

That confirms what I’d suspected when I first saw her over a week ago.

“What happened?”

She hands me the first dripping plate before answering.

“We’d just chased down a suspect and I was putting him into cuffs, when my chest got tight and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack. Next thing I know, I’m in an ambulance, hooked up to monitors as I’m being rushed to the hospital, and scared out of my brain.”

I know I must’ve made some sound, when her head turns and those hazel eyes lock on me.

“I lost my mom when I was twelve. One minute she was at the stove, cooking us Sunday morning breakfast, and the next she was on the ground; dead of a massive heart attack at barely forty.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath.

“Anyway…” She turns her attention back to the dirty dishes. “That’s what was going through my mind at the time. It turned out it wasn’t a heart attack but a panic attack. I was also diagnosed with hypertension and was put on medication for both. Then, to top it off, I was placed on indefinite leave. It’s all been a bit much to wrap my head around, so if I seem a bit uneasy, it’s probably because I feel like I’m still trying to adjust.”

Her head is down and I can’t see her eyes, but I could hear the barely contained emotion in her voice. I reach over and put my hand on her neck, squeezing gently.

“That’s tough. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

I understand only too well what it feels like to wake up in a hospital and have everything in your life changed, including your sense of self.

She shrugs her shoulders, and I’m not quite sure whether it is in response to my empathy or my hand on her neck, but I remove it anyway. Shouldn’t have my hands where they’re not wanted.

A moment later I break that rule already, when she says, “I shouldn’t complain. It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”

I toss the towel on the counter and grab her shoulders, turning her to face me.

“Don’t do that,” I urge her, crouching down so I can look her straight in the eyes. “Don’t belittle what you’re feeling, or what you’re dealing with. It’s a lot, trying to get a grip on a reality that is abruptly changed. Trust me, I know what that’s like, and I can tell you that trying to muscle your way through can come back to bite you.”

I have no idea if she knows I tried to end things when I was struggling two years ago, but her eyes well up with tears.

“Dammit,” she mutters, blinking furiously to keep them at bay. “This is why I try to avoid you. I can’t hide; you see too much.”

I chuckle at that admission and drop my hands from her shoulders.

“Only because I’ve been in your shoes. Turns out we have more in common than I thought.”

When I turn to grab the towel and finish drying the dishes, I inadvertently put my weight on the right side. A sharp hiss escapes me when a stab of burning pain shoots through my stump and I grab on to the edge of the counter for support.

“What is it?” Stephanie asks, immediately concerned. “Is it your leg? Do you need to sit down?”

Even though I don’t necessarily advertise it; the fact I’m an amputee isn’t exactly a secret. I shouldn’t be surprised she instinctively draws the link.

“Actually, I should probably head home,” I share, not really wanting to leave.

I’d prefer sticking around, exploring this newfound connection. Now that I have a better understanding of what happened to her, I can offer her my support, a listening ear, a strong shoulder.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt a sense of purpose. Since I’ve had the ability to make a difference.

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