Page 37 of How to Walk Away

When I looked up, Ian and the new nurse were watching me.

“I just got fired,” I explained. “Though not really. It wasn’t official yet. But right before the crash, they told me it was mine. The most amazing dream job ever. And I was going to rock it out.”

“They can’t do that!” the nurse said, all sympathy, like we’d been pals for years.

“Sure they can,” Ian said. “That’s how the world works.” No sympathy there. Dry as chalk.

“Bad luck,” the nurse said, and took my hand to squeeze it. It wasn’t until she touched me that I realized how cold my own hands were. “I’m sorry about your bad news.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay,” I said, and in a way, it was. A relief, at least. An impossible challenge that I didn’t have to rise to.

I had enough impossible challenges these days.

But in a much larger way, it wasn’t okay. I wanted that job, yes—but I also needed it. I had bought a fancy condo on the strength of my bright future. I had student loan payments and car payments and credit card payments. Plus, I had no idea what the medical bills were going to be like for this situation.

A panic about the future swirled inside my body like a dust storm. Another piece of my old life had just crumbled away.

Here’s the weird thing, though, about all the emotions swirling through me right then: I felt them intensely—and, at the exact same time, I could barely feel them at all. I have no idea how that works, but I swear it’s true. I felt full-out panicked and quietly numb simultaneously. I wondered if I’d ever feel things normally again—and then immediately hoped it would be a long, long time before I did.

Neverwould’ve been fine.

Ian was already back to business. “So,” he said, rocking back a little, “let’s recap. We basically made a map of your entire body today—and in the coming weeks, we’ll strengthen what’s working and try to wake up what’s not.” He spoke with his eyes on his clipboard, as if the topic ingeneral, and me in particular, bored him to tears. “There’s a great deal of mystery with spinal cord injuries, and we can’t always predict who will see improvement and who won’t. Your deficits are all at the patella level and below, and that’s the area we’ll focus on. Do you have any questions?”

As he waited for my answer, he looked out the window.

I shook my head.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then,” he said, turning away. “And next time,” he called over his shoulder, “you have to try.”

The nurse and I watched him go. I could have been irritated with him, I suppose, but I was too tired to be mad. In fact, I felt all remaining energy whoosh out of my body like a sigh as he left. The day was over. All I had left to do was get myself back into bed. Then I could close my eyes and sink into oblivion.

But just before I turned to look for the transfer board, another figure appeared in doorway.

Kitty.

Again.

“I thought I told you no,” I said.

“That was a long time ago,” Kitty said.

“That wasyesterday.”

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“Nope.”

“Fat Benjamin confessed to me after I got home last night that he still had a ponytail holder of mine from high school. And then he tried to put his tongue in my ear.”

I faced her dead-on. “I have many problems right now,” I said then. “But Fat Benjamin’s tongue inyourear is definitely not one of them.”

Kitty looked affronted. “I’m not asking you to solve my problems.”

“Yes, you are. Like you always do.” But not anymore. I didn’t say it, but she’d lost the right to ask that of me.

“Not this time,” Kitty insisted. “I’mhere to helpyou.”

“I already told you that you can’t.”

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