Page 137 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
“I’m sorry Ava called you. You’re already dealing with so much.”
“Not a problem,” Arianna assured her. “Sophie adores Paisley, and this will be a treat for her. Just keep me posted, okay?”
“I will,” Molly promised, although she had no idea when she’d have any news to share.
Ava was the first to find her. “You must have broken the sound barrier getting here,” Molly said, hugging her.
“Just about,” Ava admitted. “How are you doing, Mom?”
“Lousy,” Molly admitted. “I still don’t know anything. I don’t even know if...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Ava grabbed her and hugged her fiercely, and that was when she broke down and sobbed. Her daughter led her to a seat, pulled out tissues and simply sat there, an arm around Molly’s shoulders. Funny how many times it had been Molly hugging her distraught daughter. Failed sports team tryouts, subtle discriminations that had hurt, breakups, career setbacks—Molly had been there for all of them, walking her daughter through life’s challenges the best she could. Now their roles were reversed. Only they weren’t mother and daughter, they were two women facing a typhoon-sized life storm together.
“There isn’t even anyone I can call,” Molly opined. “The only family he has is that cousin of his and I have no idea how to contact him.”
“He has us,” said Ava.
Us. What a great word that was!
Molly called in sick the next day. The rest of the crew could worry about the supply of flower stamps and whose package had gotten lost. For the moment nothing mattered but Reggie. It was the same with her daughter and her friends, who were all with her in his room when the doctor arrived to check on him.
“Well, now, young man, it looks like you’ve got quite a fan club,” he said to Reggie, who didn’t have anything to say in return. “The good news is that your stroke was a mild one and you received medical help right away. The not so good news is that it’s going to take you a while to recover.”
“How long?” Molly asked.
“A lot of that will depend on Reggie here and how hard he works.”
“He’s a hard worker,” Molly said, and squeezed Reggie’s hand.
“That’s good. A positive attitude and determination are key.”
The stroke had occurred on the right side of Reggie’s brain and would affect movement on the left side of his body.
“It’s going to be a long road,” Arianna warned Molly. “Once they discharge him, he’ll have to go to rehab and start physiotherapy and occupational therapy right away.”
“I’ll be with him every step of it,” Molly said. “Just so we get to the end of it,” said Molly.
“You will, and even if he doesn’t make a full recovery, he’ll still be able to function.”
“You are going to recover, Reggie Washington,” Molly said to him when it was finally the two of them alone. “Completely, do you hear? You aren’t getting away from me that easily.” She heard a weak chuckle as she bent to kiss his forehead. The Reggie she knew and loved was inside that injured body and he would find a way to break free.
But when she visited him a couple nights later, she found it hard to keep a positive attitude.
“My arm don’t feel like it even belongs to me,” he complained. “I’m half a man.”
“Only for the moment,” Molly said.
He shook his head. “Walk away, Molly. Keep the ring and walk away.”
“Walk away? What kind of lightweight do you think I am?” she protested in disgust.
“I’m no good to you. I’m not gonna get better. You don’t need to be stuck with me.”
“I am not stuck and I choose to be with you.”
He looked down at his affected arm and then began to cry, sobs that shook his big body.
She stooped and hugged him fiercely. “Reggie, we’ll get through this. Don’t give up.”
