Page 115 of How to Walk Away

At that, Kitty nodded. “Exactly!” She pointed at me. “He specifically mentioned paraplegics.”

I had not heard myself described that way before, and the word gave me a little start. But I pushed past it. “I still don’t see what this has to do with math.”

“There was a specific study on people who had lost the use of their lower limbs—people in wheelchairs—and those findings totally hold true. One year after the accident, they’re exactly as happy as they were before.”

I stared at her.

“Isn’t that great?”

“That’swhat you’ve been waiting to say all this time?”

“Yes! You’re going to be okay. Aren’t you glad to know that?”

“Undecided.”

Then, as she came in for a final hug, she said, “I just need you to remember that, okay?” She squeezed a little tighter. “There are all kinds of happy endings.”

***

NEXT, MY PARENTSshowed up at the door—with a top-of-the-line wheelchair with a bow on it. Literally: a bow. Like I’d just turned sixteen and they’d bought me a convertible.

I just stared. “This is the worst best present ever.”

My dad came over for one of his signature hugs. “The titanium was developed by NASA,” he said. “It has razor-thin inverted wheels, like all the basketball players use.”

“Dammit,” I said. “Now I have to join a basketball team.” I thought about Pop-A-Shot with Ian, and wondered if I just might.

My dad wanted to walk me through all its features and do a little demo, but I shut that right down.

“He loves that thing,” my mother said. “Spent all day yesterday scooting around in it.”

My dad rubbed one of his shoulders and confirmed, “Arms are a little sore.”

They were both soexcited. My mother loved its compactness—how trim it was. “From just the right angle,” she said, “you can barely tell there’s a chair there at all.”

“So I’ll just look like I’m weirdly floating down the street with my legs bent?”

But she pooh-poohed me. “You know what I mean.”

Everyone was civil. Everyone was elegantly polite. You’d never even know that we’d all just bounced back from being estranged. And then something weird happened: Just before Kit headed to the airport with my dad, she stepped in to hug my mom good-bye.

And my mom just didn’t let go.

How long does a normal hug last? Five seconds? This one went on for five minutes. So long that Kit wound up opening her eyes to look at me like,What the heck?

Nobody said anything, either. We just stood there, in silence, and let it happen.

It was the first hug my mom and Kit had shared in years.

When my mom finally let go, there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and turned to my dad. “She’s going to need something to eat in the airport.”

My dad sensed what was coming. He looked at his watch. “You’re sending me to the sandwich shop?”

This was becoming her signature thing. Sending him for sandwiches. Especially when she wanted to have girl talks.

My dad shook his head. “We don’t have time.”

“We do!” my mother said.

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