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“Come on. It’s just an hour.” Ronnie steered him into the makeshift gym and over to a bed. “We’re going to start you off with some transitions and go from there.”
“Transitions?” Steven asked.
She moved in front of him. “You’re going to move yourself from the chair to the bed and back again.”
“But I’m barely able to stand!”
Instead of responding, she continued, “Watch me first. I’ll show you how to support your weight on your arms until your legs are strong enough to hold you.” She grabbed a chair and demonstrated using the bars by the bed to pull herself up, then she shuffled to the bed before extending one hand to the bedrail and hoisting herself onto it.
Steven raised an eyebrow. She made it look deceptively easy, but she had full control of her extremities.
With a grimace, Steven gripped the arms of his wheelchair and pushed himself to standing. He grasped the bar and held onto it for dear life as he tried to shuffle his feet. They moved incrementally toward the bed, but it took way more effort than he was expecting.
“That’s it. Slow and steady.”
He shot her a glare and took another precarious step forward. His leg shook with the effort as he dragged his opposite foot behind him. The weight of the boot on his leg served only to further slow his progress. After what felt like an eternity, he finally made his way to the edge of the bed. He grabbed the bedrail, turned his body, and lifted himself onto the bed with his arms.
“Good, though you need to pick up that back foot more, or else you’re going to trip yourself.”
“Tell that to my foot,” Steven retorted. “It doesn’t obey my commands.”
She pursed her lips. “It doesn’t hear them.”
He scowled as he bent down and lifted his legs one by one onto the bed. Once he was securely in the middle, he lay down and stared at the ceiling, struggling to catch his breath.
“Now that you’re here, I’m going to have you do some leg exercises.”
Steven relaxed, but his sense of accomplishment was short-lived because Ronnie began a series of exercises that worked every muscle in his body. By the time they were done, he was panting.
It had been only fifteen minutes. He still had forty-five to go. This is ridiculous. I’ve never been this out of shape in my life.
“All right. Time to move back to the chair.” Once again, Ronnie demonstrated how to transition from the bed to the chair.
His muscles screamed as he lifted himself off the bed and shuffled to the chair. But it took less time than it had to get on the bed, and when he eased into his chair, Ronnie smiled at him.
“Since you’re doing so well, I thought you might like to have a bit of fun. What do you say?” Ronnie leaned against the bed.
What could possibly be fun about physical therapy? But he decided to humor her. “What do you have in mind?”
She wriggled her eyebrows. “What do you say we play a round of wheelchair basketball? It’ll give you a chance to work your upper body without worrying about your legs.”
He snorted. “You know, my grandfather used to be obsessed with me playing basketball because of my height.”
She grinned. “But it wasn’t for you?”
“I mean, I wasn’t against it, but I wasn’t really into it either. But I’ll try anything at this point.”
Her face fell, but she shook it off. “Not quite the spirit I was looking for, but I’ll take it.”
Without another word, she pushed him out of the room and down a hallway. They entered a gym that reminded him of middle school PE.
To Steven’s surprise, the court was filled with other people in wheelchairs. “I thought this was going to be just you and me, one on one.”
“What kind of challenge would that be?”
He swallowed, suddenly self-conscious, though he couldn’t explain why. Every single person on that court except for the physical therapist was in the same situation as him. They might have arrived there because of different circumstances—Steven noted a few guys with missing limbs—but they would understand what he was going through. Then he realized the real reason Ronnie had brought him out there: to show him that he wasn’t alone.
A few days later, Lanie picked Steven up from yet another physical therapy appointment. His muscles ached but nowhere near as much as his heart. The day he’d been dreading had finally arrived, and his sister was taking him to the cemetery.
