I HADN’T REALIZED how much I’d come to depend on Ethan since being discharged from the hospital until he had to leave for a road trip with the team.
Physically, I could get along relatively well without him at this point in my recovery; I managed most things necessary to care for myself reasonably well on my own, and the other WAGs were more than capable of assisting me with those things that were still problematic.
But my emotional state was another matter entirely.
Only two days had passed since the team had left, and I felt as though I were falling apart. I thought about Ethan constantly. I missed him more than could be healthy, and it wasn’t just because I felt safe when I was with him; I was getting attached.
I had no business getting attached to him.
Ethan had a son and a dog to worry about, not to mention a high-profile career. He’d been incredibly kind and generous to open up his home to me, but I couldn’t afford to fall into the trap of thinking this could be anything more than what it was—a good man offering a helping hand to me at a time when I was in desperate need.
If we kept going how we had been so far, at some point, I’d be taking advantage of his sympathy and compassion by continuing to stay. Maybe not yet, but I knew it was coming, and probably sooner than I’d like to think.
Snoopy and I had been staying with London so far during this road trip, but that arrangement was about to come to an end due to a sled hockey tournament her team would be participating in. When she dropped me off at the hospital this afternoon for outpatient therapy, she’d be taking Snoopy over to Ravyn’s house, and then she and Erik would be heading out of town for a couple of days. Ravyn would be picking me up later.
London’s house didn’t have any stairs for me to contend with since she had to get around in a wheelchair, but both of us were constantly checking to make certain Erik, her toddler, wasn’t underfoot or in the way of her wheels. He was almost as fascinated by my crutches and the cast on my leg as he was with his mother’s wheelchair, which was proving to be an issue.
We both spent an enormous amount of time worrying about crushing his toes under my crutches or getting his fingers caught in the spokes of London’s wheels, because that child never stopped moving and sticking his fingers into places fingers didn’t belong. He was a quick, sneaky little guy.
One second, he’d have us convinced he was content to play with his blocks and giant Legos on the floor, and the next, he would be climbing the entertainment center and dangling four feet from the ground, seemingly holding on with a single finger and threatening to topple the entire thing over on top of himself.
That child was determined to give us both heart attacks.
It didn’t help that Snoopy kept egging the little boy on. Although, his barking tended to alert us that Erik might be doing something he shouldn’t be, so I supposed he was helpful in that way, at least.
London was a good influence on me, though, whether I liked to admit it or not. If ever there was someone who deserved to indulge in a bit of self-pity, it was London, but she was constantly reminding me to focus on the things I could do for myself and not on those I couldn’t.
“Dana told me they’re planning to take your cast off this afternoon, before your therapy session,” she said conversationally at one point while prying Erik’s fingers free from her wheel spokes for what had to be the tenth time in an hour.
“Yeah. They’re switching me to a removable walking boot, I think. Something I can take off when I need to, like when I take a bath.” And none too soon if you asked me. The itching was killer, and no amount of baby powder seemed to help.
Granted, if my biggest complaint at this point was itching, I supposed I was doing pretty well. Perspective, right?
“That should make it a lot easier to get around.”
“And to get clean,” I pointed out, laughing.
“That too.” She winked. “Maybe you can forget about the crutches soon, then.”
“Probably soon. I think I’m going to have to use them to help with balance and weight bearing for a while.”
“Still…” She gave me a pointed look, just before reaching around and dragging her son off the entertainment center once again, somehow seeing him out of the corner of her eye. “Progress is progress. Don’t knock it.”
“Trying not to.”
A few hours later, she left me at the hospital for my therapy session and drove off to deliver Snoopy to Ravyn’s house before heading out for her tournament. Erik was still giggling and babbling to himself from his car seat in the back.
Before therapy, though, they took me to an exam room to remove the cast. My sigh of relief when they cut the plaster off my leg was louder than I’d anticipated.
The technician chuckled. “Let’s get your leg washed and dried, and then I’ll get you fitted in your walking boot.” She brought in a basin of warm water, as well as towels, washcloths, and soap, then settled in to give my leg a sponge bath.
“I can really shower now?” I asked.
“You can really shower now, as long as you sit in the shower chair. Eventually, you’ll be able to stand in the shower if you’ve got rails. One step at a time, right?”
I nodded. “And I can dip my toes in the pool on a hot day?”
“If you can find a pool that’s not all dried up.” She winked at me. “Heck, you can get all the way in the pool if you want. Water’s gentle on the body. It’d be a good way for you to get some exercise and maybe start to gradually build the strength up in the limb.”
Rebuilding the strength seemed an insurmountable task. I couldn’t believe how thin my leg had become, just from lack of use. It looked like all the muscle had melted away. Wouldn’t surprise me much, considering how much I’d sweated inside the plaster, but still. It was hard to reconcile that this was my leg, the same one that had been so full and fit only weeks ago. Especially when compared to my other leg, which still seemed full and whole and healthy.
Once I was all cleaned up and they’d shown me how to tighten and fasten the hooks and latches on my boot, I spent the next couple of hours going through physical and occupational therapy sessions. Today’s focus was on learning how to get around in the boot, which was a lot more difficult than I’d anticipated.
It was definitely nice to be able to walk again, though.
By the time Ravyn picked me up at the end of the day, I was exhausted.
“Look at you!” she said when I met her in the parking lot. “Talk about an improvement.”
“You have no idea how good this feels.” I was using the crutches for balance but trying to put my weight on my leg, like they’d told me to.
“Mind if we get takeout for dinner?” she asked. “We can pick something up on the way home and eat sitting out by the pool.”
“Do I mind?” I almost spluttered. “I am dying to dip my toes in the water.” For that matter, I wouldn’t mind dipping the rest of me in the water, either. I didn’t have a swimsuit right now, but I wasn’t sure I’d let that stop me.
“I can imagine.”
We stopped at a Chinese place halfway between the rehab center and her house and picked up our food to go. As soon as we got to her place, we both changed clothes—she put on a swimsuit and I dug out a tank top and a pair of shorts.
We took our meal out with us and ate it straight from the Styrofoam containers. Once I was seated, I unlatched my brace and let my legs hang over the edge of the pool, my feet dangling in the water. I let out an indulgent moan almost as soon as the cool water hit me.
“You can get in, you know,” she said.
“I know. I will.”
Probably.
Maybe.
One thing at a time, though.
I opened my to-go box and dug in, just as Snoopy jumped into the water and splashed us both. We did our best to protect the food from the water, but there was only so much we could do. That dog seemed determined to get us wet. He barked happily and swam all the way across the pool before climbing out on the other side. Then he raced around, his tail wagging like crazy, and repeated the process.
“Better eat fast,” Ravyn said.
“No joke.”
By the time we finished eating, Snoopy had worn himself out and was floating along on a foam mattress-like thing that he’d confiscated, and the sun was starting to set.
“Wanna get in?” Ravyn asked.
“In this?” I could just imagine the T-shirt clinging to my body. It might even be see-through once it got wet.
“Why not? Who cares? No one’s going to see but me and Snoopy.”
She had a point.
“I’ll help you get out afterward if you have problems.”
That sealed the deal for me. I set my to-go box aside and lowered myself into the water, practically groaning at the sensation. The water felt cool and silky on my skin. I hadn’t experienced anything so relaxing or indulgent in recent memory.
Ravyn got in, too, after taking care of our trash.
“Don’t you worry about the chemicals messing with your hair color?” I asked.
“Nah. It’s more work keeping the dreads in good condition than it is keeping the color vibrant.”
“What about your tattoos? Don’t they fade?” She had more ink on her skin than most of the people I knew combined.
“Sunscreen is your friend when you have tattoos.” She swam over to the other side of the pool and grabbed a ball that was floating. As soon as she tossed it, Snoopy leaped off his makeshift bed and swam for it, then brought it back to her. His tail was working overtime.
She tossed the ball for him a few times, focusing on wearing him out, which gave me a bit of a reprieve. Not that she’d been prying or trying to get me to talk about anything, but after spending the day with London and then in therapy, all I could focus on was trying to rest and recover.
Ravyn pushed one of the floating mats in my direction. “Get on that. Put your feet up and relax for a while. You’ve had a big day. The sun’s setting, so you won’t burn.”
That was more tempting than anything I could’ve come up with on my own. I shimmied onto it and stretched out, resting my head against the slightly raised pillow and reveling in the sensation of the cool water slipping and sliding over my hips and legs. It was so relaxing that I found my eyes closing, and soon I was dozing off with the water lapping against me.
When I opened my eyes again, it was almost fully dark out. Ravyn had gotten out of the pool and turned on the outdoor lights in the backyard, and she was stretching out on a lawn chair with her sketchpad and pencils. Snoopy had climbed onto my lap and was sleeping, his tail dragging in the water as we drifted.
“Come on,” I said, trying to rouse him.
He whimpered in protest.
“I need to get out,” I said, laughing, but he didn’t budge.
“You’re going to have to shove him off you,” Ravyn said, not looking up from her sketchpad. “Holler if you need help. He’s getting kind of big for that.”
It wasn’t easy, but I managed to force him off me. He swam over to the stairs and got out, then made another running leap into the water. Apparently, after his nap, he was ready to play some more.
I rolled off into the water and swam over to the stairs. Ravyn had moved my brace and crutches for me already and laid out a couple of towels, so I was able to dry off and suit up again before joining her under the umbrella.
She passed a bottle of water over to me. “You ever think about getting a tattoo?” she asked conversationally, but I got the sense that it was a weighted question.
I took a sip and peeked at her sketchpad.
It was a butterfly, with a ribbon for the body, done in all sorts of shades of teal and purple. She’d thrown in a couple of splashes of pinks and greens for contrast.
I had to swallow hard, because even if I didn’t know the specific meaning behind each of the elements, I got the distinct impression that she’d designed this butterfly specifically for me.
“What does it mean?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice level, but it was starting to fade out on me, like it had in the hospital, and I felt choked up.
“The teal in the ribbon is for sexual assault survivors. The purple is for domestic violence survivors. And I thought the butterfly could be you.”
I started crying again, which drove me crazy. I was so over crying all the time. But there wasn’t any way I could have stopped it this time. Ravyn had taken me by surprise so thoroughly that there was no other reaction possible.
She set her sketchpad down on the table, laying her colored pencil on top of it, and passed me a towel since there were no tissues out here. “Good tears or bad tears?” she asked.
“Good tears.”
“I thought so. You don’t have to give me an answer now. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want it. And if you wanted something different, that’s okay, too. I won’t mind or be offended. I just got the inspiration to draw it while you were floating in the pool, and I wanted to make the offer.”
I nodded and dried my eyes, and she got up to haul Snoopy out of the pool so we could go inside.
“Where would you put it?” I asked, but only after I trusted my voice enough to chance speaking.
“Anywhere you want it. You can have it somewhere it’s hidden and just for you or somewhere you can show it off. There are lots of possibilities we could explore. I’ve done some pieces for women who’ve had mastectomies, and they cover the scars. We could do something to cover one of your scars if you wanted. Not right away—you’ve got to let the scar heal for about a year first, at least. Anyway, no need to make up your mind now. Let’s dry off and clean up so we can get inside and watch the game.”
I gathered up the towels and trash from our meal, tidying our mess while Ravyn did her best to dry the dog. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the design.
Before we went into the house, I took out the cell phone Ethan had given me, and I snapped a picture and sent it to him in a text message, asking for his opinion. He probably wouldn’t answer until late tonight, because they weren’t allowed to have their phones on so close to game time.
But he surprised me by responding almost immediately.
It’s gorgeous. But so are you.
I tossed my phone onto the pile of stuff we needed to carry back inside, but now I had the faint hint of a smile trying to break free, and I didn’t think I’d be able to stop it.
And to be honest, I didn’t want to stop it.