Page 1 of Laying His Claim
Chapter 1
“A couple hundred steps, and you’re all done. Just five more minutes,” Anna urged. “You’re doing great.”
“I can’t!” Jalissa protested. She was exhausted and her whole body felt sore. She hated the hospital therapy room; to her it was nothing more than a torture chamber she was obliged to visit every day, to walk, push, pull, stretch, and roll. She felt like a puppy being trained.
“You can,” Anna insisted. She placed a supporting hand at Jalissa’s back. Jalissa was sure it was partly to encourage her and partly to keep her steady on the treadmill.
Jalissa wondered if Anna pushed all of her clients this hard. After all, it had only been two weeks since Jalissa had woken up from a coma and 18 months is a long time to be lying in a bed, insensible to the world. The doctors and therapists had all assured Jalissa that she was young and strong. They were confident that with the right therapy and care, she’d bounce back. Especially, they’d enthused, since she seemed to have such a loving group of friends who looked out for her; visiting often, sitting by her bedside, reading to her, even telling jokes, despite not knowing whether she could hear them or not. Jalissa chose to believe them.
“Ican,”Jalissa repeated, both to herself and her therapist. She ground her teeth in determination and gripped the handlebars, placing one foot in front of the other with deep concentration.
“Ça y est,”Anna encouraged. When she woke up from the coma, she was surprised to learn that she was also bilingual. French and English. Most people who lived in the Province of Quebec were. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”
Sweat poured down Jalissa’s forehead, stinging as it rolled into her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to wipe it away. Nothing was going to distract her from her goal. She wanted to walk with more grace and a bit of pep, rather than her current hesitant, almost painful movements that made her seem like the people in the geriatric ward. If every step was agony, then so be it. She’d work until her feet bled if she had to.
The treadmill wound slowly down to a stop and Anna clicked it off. “You did great, Jalissa,” she said, and gave the younger woman a brief hug.
“Floor exercises now,” Jalissa panted.
“Don’t you want to wait a few minutes? Catch your breath?”
“No. Now.” She dragged one of the padded floor mats away from the wall, smoothed it out, and lay on her back. The T-shirt and sweatpants she wore hung off of her body, hiding her thin arms and legs that were the result of being on a tube feeding for—she couldn’t believe it—a year and a half!
The thought of it made her dizzy. No, wait, it made her angry. Mad as hell! Who wouldn’t be after waking up to discover you have no idea who you are? As she began her routine, she studiously avoided her reflection in the bank of wall-to-wall mirrors in the therapy room. Why would she want to look into the face of a stranger? All she could see was a too-thin woman with huge brown eyes, warm brown skin, and natural hair that was carefully braided and drawn back from her face. Looking at herself evoked a vague feeling of familiarity, as if the woman in the reflection was a nodding acquaintance. She was someone who always arrived at the coffee shop at the same time she did every day on the way to work, so that over time they got into the habit of smiling and saying, “Good morning.”
But what did she know about that woman on the inside? Who was Jalissa? Was she fun at parties? Was she kind? What did she like to read?Didshe like to read? What about her family?
Jalissa stared up at the ceiling, divorcing herself from her own recalcitrant body as Anna moved her legs from position to position. She had no family; at least, that’s what Kaiya had told her. That beautiful, serene, concerned woman who came to her hospital room every day, to hold her hand and chat. The woman who, the nurses said, had visited several times a week since her accident, to comb her hair, do her nails, and carefully apply a dab of lipstick to her lips.
Herfriend,Kaiya, had told her. Her best friend since they were kids.
One evening, in the throes of a frightening dream, she had cried out for her mama. And that was when her new - old - friend had sadly informed her that Jalissa’s parents were dead. No details, except for the fact that they had both passed before she’d turned eighteen. She’d been too dazed and exhausted to find out more, but she understood that she was alone in the world now, except for her friends.
“That’s it, Jalissa. We’re done for the day,” Anna announced, stretching out her hand to help her up. Jalissa ignored it, rolling over onto her hands and knees before rising awkwardly. She was done hanging onto others just to stand or walk.
“I can make it back on my own,” she said.
Anna beamed, “Wonderful.”
* * *
“Knock, knock.” Kaiya mimed knocking on the door jamb as she entered, making Jalissa laugh. If anyone could enter without knocking, it was Kaiya, who had been her rock during that awful, lost time.
Jalissa was sure there was something familiar about the fuchsia and turquoise design on the small bag Kaiya was swinging from one hand. It triggered a feeling of excitement and pleasure inside her, even though she couldn’t connect the dots between the bag and her reaction.
Kaiya’s quick, observant eyes were on her face and she broke out into a grin. “You know what these are, don’t you!”
“Not exactly,” Jalissa hedged, “But I feel… I’m certain it’s something good.”
Kaiya plopped herself down on the edge of the bed and bumped Jalissa with her hips. “Move over, woman!”
Jalissa slid over a bit, giving her ample room, unable to take her eyes off the bag.
“It’s not somethinggood;it’s somethingawesome!”Kaiya plunged her hands in and brought out two clear boxes. Inside of them, Jalissa could see heavenly golden mounds of profiteroles, capped in chocolate and topped with cream.
She held out her hands like an eager child. “Give!”
“These are from your favorite patisserie,” Kaiya explained, handing over a plastic fork.
