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“I thought maybe we could just do it here,” Caleb said, that grin still in place. “If you’re up for it.”
“I don’t have anything with me,” I said slowly. “We don’t have the bars or weights or anything.”
“It’s just one session,” Caleb said quickly. “What could it hurt?”
“A lot,” I said firmly. “Even missing one session could set you back in your recovery. I know how eager you are to get back to work.”
“All right, all right,” Caleb said. He sighed and raised his hands in defeat. “I’ll get my shoes.”
He walked slowly into his bedroom, using the wall for support. His crutches were leaning against the front door. I rolled my eyes when I saw them. He wasn’t supposed to walk without them, not even a few steps. At PT, it was different. I was there to make sure nothing went wrong but here? At his apartment? It was a huge risk.
“You need to use those,” I said when he returned, pointing toward the door. “Your crutches.”
“I’m doing fucking amazing without them,” Caleb said. He laughed lightly. “Watch this.”
He let go of the wall and slowly made his way toward me. It was only about three normal steps, but for him, it took about ten.
“It’s your funeral,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Always the pessimist.” He grabbed his crutches and shoved them under his arms. “Can’t you just be positive? Just one time?”
“I’m positive during every single PT session,” I argued.
“Oh yeah,” Caleb said. “You’re a freaking ray of sunshine.”
“Whatever.”
He grinned as we slipped through the front door and headed to my car. Caleb had called me the night before to ask for a ride to PT. I was happy to do it, but I was always nervous. Things between us had been so strained lately. I didn’t know how awkward the car ride would be.
After his playful banter at the apartment, though, everything felt normal. We laughed and talked the entire way to the hospital. He teased me, and I poked fun at him. We flirted, and he even pulled me in for a kiss at every red light. By the time we pulled up to the PT building, my mood had drastically improved.
“Let’s get you started on some weights today,” I said. “You think you’re strong enough to walk around without crutches? Prove it.”
“Bring it on, baby.” Caleb grinned and followed me toward the weight bench.
I loaded it up with two-and-a-half-pound weights while he positioned himself. When he saw the size of the weights, he snorted and rolled his eyes. I just shrugged and motioned for him to try. He tucked his foot beneath the foam cushion and slowly began to lift. His face immediately contorted as pain shot through his leg. The bar barely lifted before he dropped his foot, breathing heavy.
“What the fuck?” he growled and his face flushed with rage.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Relax. This isn’t supposed to be easy.”
“I feel so damn weak,” he said.
“You’re not.”
“It’s two pounds!” he yelled.
“And next week, it’ll be five,” I said. “Then, ten. Then, fifty. You’ll get back to your old self again, okay? It just takes time.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay.” He said it, but I wasn’t sure that he believed it.
“And you said I was never positive.” I snorted.
He smiled weakly and let out a half-laugh. It was progress.
I tried to keep his mood light as he tried the weights a few more times. After that, we did a couple laps on the bars and then, he was done.
Our PT sessions had become harder each week. I knew Caleb was really starting to feel the resistance. He was almost finished, which was when most patients wanted to give up. I knew Caleb too well to think he’d ever go down that path. He’d rip himself apart before he would walk away from a challenge.
