Chapter 12 - Learning the Weight of a Step
The second surgery took place after the swelling eased. The surgeon repaired what he could, addressed the fractured bone, and explained that recovery would be measured in months, not in reassuring dates circled on a calendar. The numbness in my foot gradually improved, but he couldn't promise how much strength I'd regain.
On my first morning home, I cried because I couldn't put on a sock.
Greer sat at the end of my bed and waited until I was finished. She didn't tell me I was strong. She asked which drawer held the clean towels and whether I wanted toast.
Physical therapy began with movements so small they embarrassed me. My therapist, Daniel Cho, noticed the way I watched the doorway every time someone approached from behind.
“Do you want me to tell you before I touch your leg?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, surprised by how badly I needed him to.
Meanwhile, my employer's compliance team reviewed the charge. The card issuer provisionally credited the disputed amount while requesting documents from the venue; it wasn't a final ruling. I remained employed, with office-based work and reduced travel duties, but the inspection commission belonged to the colleague who had completed the assignment.
He sent me photographs of the ship. I congratulated him and then sat with the phone in my lap for a long time.
One evening Thatcher called. He had moved out of the apartment he'd shared with Sloan. He wanted to apologize again.
“Don't make yourself another person I have to forgive,” I told him.
He was quiet.
May you like
“Then I'll just tell the truth when they ask,” he said.
That was enough. I didn't need a rescuer. I needed witnesses who would stay witnesses after the noise died down.
