Page 60 of Sing it, Sam

I buckle down and get the information packs done by ten-thirty. I even have time to copy and scan Mrs Ferguson’s medical file. It seems to calm Kathleen somewhat, as a smile manages to break through when she dismisses me for morning tea.

When I stroll down the corridor on my break, what I find has my feet rooted to the ground. My heart blooms in my chest with each shuffle of Sam’s feet behind a walker.A walker.

His back is facing me. Paige is close by his side, her height an obvious advantage in assisting him. She mumbles what I assume to be words of instruction or encouragement.

I lean up against the wall and watch on in admiration as he shuffles a couple of metres to his doorway. They disappear from view.

I close my eyes and silently thank the heavens for the progress Sam is making. When I compare the Sam who used to stare at the walls, never venture out, or socialise, to the Sam meandering the halls, in a walker no less, I wanna pinch myself. Witnessing Sam on the improve fills me with such pride. If something I did or said has helped him try, then that’s just all kinds of awesome.

I bring my head back down to reality and walk closer to his room. Paige emerges from the doorway and smiles as I approach.

“He’s doing well,” she says in a quiet voice.

A burst of heat pinches at my cheeks. “Awesome,” I gush.

“We just need to work a bit more with his fine motor skills.”

“What do you mean?”

“Activities with his hands—threading beads onto string, drawing, squeezing a rubber ball. Anything that helps with coordination of eye-and-hand movements.”

It dawns on me that my craft activity scheduled for tomorrow would be perfect. “Ha. Maybe I should get him to come scrapbooking.”

“Yeah,” she replies, sarcasm evident in her tone. “If you can drag him there, then I’m all for it.”

I shrug. “I’ll give it a go.”

Paige continues down the hall and I make my way into his room.

Sam is flat on his back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Beads of sweat mar his forehead, and his cheeks are flushed dark red. His chest rises and falls as he noisily draws breath.

“You okay?” I ask, rushing to his side.

“Don’t panic,” he grumbles. “Just getting used to the walker.”

I snatch up his hand and flip over his wrist, flattening my fingers against his skin. His pulse beats hard and fast beneath my touch.How can his body react like this to such a small amount of exercise?

“You’re panicking, Janie. I’m fine.”

I let out a heavy breath. Paige wouldn’t have left him alone if he wasn’t.Why am I so protective all of a sudden?“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m quite the marathon runner. Just puffed.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a series of deep breaths in and out, the redness in Sam’s cheeks fade to a peachy–pink. I scoop up his drink bottle and bring the straw close to his lips.

He gulps the water down and lets out a loud ‘ahhh’ afterwards. “What, no Gatorade?” he asks with a wink. “Need to replace all the lost electrolytes.”

Funny man.“Nah. We’re all out.” I chuckle and put the drink aside.

I take his hand in mine and squeeze gently. We stare at each other for a while. It’s then I realise that Sam hasn’t blinked for a good ten seconds or more. I widen my eyes, trying to beat him at the game I figure he’s playing.

Still not having blinked, he widens his eyes. “I’m world champ at this,” he boasts.

I draw in a deep breath and grit my teeth, fighting my body’s will to close my lids.

“You’re an amateur,” Sam blurts out.

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