“You fell asleep during a documentary about shipwrecks.”
“It was soothing.”
“The narrator was describing hypothermia.”
“Lovely voice.”
I brought the chair beside the couch.
Noah stared at it.
“Everything takes so much planning.”
“I know.”
“I can’t just stand.”
“Not yet.”
“I can’t carry my own drink and move at the same time.”
“Not yet.”
“I can’t even get into bed without someone waiting for me to fail.”
The last word sharpened.
“I’m not waiting for you to fail.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m waiting in case you need support.”
“It feels the same.”
I crouched in front of him.
“What would make it feel different?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you don’t want.”
He looked away.
“Don’t praise me every time I stand.”
“All right.”
“Don’t hold me before I ask.”
“All right.”
“Don’t look scared.”
“That one may be difficult.”
“Try.”
