“Yeah, I’ve seen her.”
He pauses after that, and I wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Well, how is she?”
“Uh, well I’ve seen her, but I haven’t actually talked to her.”
“Patton, what the fuck, man? You went to work at the same hospital as her. We promised...”
He almost snarls. “You don’t think I know that? I know. I’ll talk to her.”
We talk about the guys, Cole and his girlfriend Hope. We talk about therapy, and when I hear his name on an intercom, I realize that he called me from work. “I gotta go.”
“Thanks for calling, man. Talk to you soon. And talk to Cora.”
I hang up. We’re all going through things since that day and we’re all dealing with it in different ways. I’ve been so lost in my own misery that I sometimes forget how it’s affected the other guys. I’m going to have to start checking on them and making sure they’re all right, and I’ll do it as soon as I fix everything with my family.
“How was everyone’s day?” I ask as I come in from another day at therapy. I missed dinner, but I’m sure Peggy will understand.
“Jeremy, look at you!” she exclaims, and when I smile at her it’s like the past year never happened. It’s like I’ve come home and she’s excited to see me.
She starts toward me, but I hold my hand up to her and toward the kids. Their faces are so bright and happy, I’m so glad to see them looking at me the way they are right now. “I’ve been working in therapy more and more, practicing a lot, but I’m still not the best, and walking takes a lot of concentration.”
Peggy looks disappointed for just a second, no doubt because I didn’t let her come to me, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment by falling on my face. “That’s why I’ve missed some of our lunches. Don’t be mad.”
She’s shaking her head. “I’m not mad. You should have told me, but I’m not mad.”
It makes me feel so happy to see how happy my family is with my hard work. Just walking through the house proves harder than I expected, but I do it.
I take a couple steps farther into the kitchen, making it to the table, and sit down carefully.
Josie and Jaxon both sit on each side of me. “You’re doing so great, Dad,” Josie says.
I reach over and ruffle her hair. “Thanks, honey.”
Jaxon is looking at me in such awe, I do the same to him. It feels good to see my kids look at me this way again. It’s worth every bit of pain these last few weeks of pushing myself harder.
Peggy returns to the kitchen and brings me a plate of spaghetti that she had to reheat. “I’m proud of you,” she says, and the kids echo her too.
“I’ve got a long way to go still, but at least I’m making headway.”
Peggy smiles at me. “Absolutely! I think this is great. You can come to Josie’s basketball game tonight!”
“What?” I say, surprised that Peggy has made such a huge leap. Doesn’t she realize I was worried the whole way in here I was going to fall on my face? Walking into a high school gymnasium and then finding a seat all while trying not to get tipped over by crowds sounds like an impossible request. If I took a hard spill in the gymnasium, my daughter would be humiliated. It isn’t worth the risk.
“The wheelchair made you feel conspicuous before, but now you can use your legs,” Peggy insists with a huge smile, not realizing what she’s doing to me right now.
These aren’t my legs, I want to scream.
“It isn’t that easy, Peggy.” I push my plate away, having lost my appetite.
Peggy eyes my barely touched plate of food and narrows her gaze on me. “Nothing is easy, but we’ll be there too. I’ll help to steady you if you need it.”
She sees me as a burden. She shouldn’t have to help me.
“It’s not the right time,” I tell her.
The kids are looking between us, and the happiness that shone on their faces only minutes ago is long gone now.
“Of course it is. You’ve made it to the baseball games. Why can’t you come to your daughter’s basketball games?” Peggy asks, taking the plate from the table.
I fist my hands in my lap. Why is she being so unreasonable?
I’ve been to a few of my son’s baseball games, but only because I can park out by the outfield and watch from my truck. I was able to stay away from people. “Baseball is outdoors. It’s different.”
Peggy opens her mouth to argue, but Josie beats her to it. “Quit fighting. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to go.”
“Josie, no, I want to go, I just can’t,” I try to explain to her.