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Chapter 32
Aro
I wanted, no, I needed, for things to get back to normal.
People have done their best to treat me the same way they always have, but I can tell when they catch themselves saying something they think will annoy or offend me. More than once I’ve caught glances when one of them use the word feet when talking. I figured not saying anything would make it easier, but it hasn’t helped.
I notice the glances at my leg when I walk into the room with the cane.
Instead of hiding my prosthetic, I’ve taken to wearing basketball shorts. Maybe if they see it all the time, it will become normalized and less of a curiosity.
Wanting to get back to normal is why I’m making my way to the damn indoor pool for fucking yoga.
Before Costa Rica, I wouldn’t miss a session. It had everything to do with watching Slick twist her body in all sorts of positions, and I’d be a liar if I said that wasn’t part of the reason I’m going to participate today.
What’s normal about today is Slick up front in her sports bra and tight athletic shorts. What’s normal about today is that the room is full of grunting people, the room peppered with laughter when someone falls out of a pose.
Months ago, that would’ve been me. Yoga has never been my thing. I could blame my bulk for my inability to do a lot of the poses, but my problem has always been spending the sessions watching Slick rather than trying to perfect what I’m doing.
Another difference about today is my increased inability to do the poses because my balance is completely fucked after my amputation. I know with practice I can get my body to perform the way I need it to, but having the journey there witnessed by so many is already embarrassing, and I haven’t done the first move yet.
Ugly points to a mat he set up beside him. I give him a quick nod before bending into a downward dog. The movement is awkward, my prosthetic making me ache in a way it normally doesn’t. This is what Anthony warned me about. He told me to pay attention to where the thing was hitting at my incision site because these are the things that need to be adjusted when I get my permanent prosthetic. He was adamant about not saying it’s fine because the slightest rubbing or pinching can cause sores and then it’s back to hobbling along while those areas heal.
When we’re instructed to move into a different pose, I snap my eyes to the front, certain I could feel her watching me, but her eyes are closed.
I’ve been back for days and she seems adamant in avoiding me. Not once have we been in the same room alone together, and I get the sinking feeling that she wants it that way. She seems completely fine with the current situation, and as much as I thought I wanted that, I’m finding that it honestly sucks.
I was the one worried about her getting territorial and bitchy, but other than the half-assed salute she gave with her beer the day I arrived back at the clubhouse, she hasn’t acknowledged me at all. It’s as if I’m invisible or something, and I fucking hate the way it makes me feel.
I resist the urge to throw a tantrum because doing so in front of others is exactly what I wanted to avoid in the first place. I never thought the tables would be turned.
Jesus, I fucking miss her, and I know how fucked up that is. I know I’m getting exactly what I thought I wanted, but I’m not the first person in the world to make a mistake, to misjudge a situation.
But hell, I’m paying the fucking price right now.
I spend the rest of the class growing angrier and angrier with myself. This isn’t a new feeling for me.
Each time I fall out of a pose or teeter because my prosthetic isn’t linked to my fucking brain like my real leg, I want to give up and storm out.
I can’t because I know I’ll get there. I refuse to have limitations, but it will take possibly months or years to do some things. I’m an extremely fucking impatient person.
No one laughs when I tip over. No one laughs when I grunt in discomfort, not even when it’s an arm stretch I’m not flexible enough to accomplish.
And that’s like waving a giant flag, saying that people are afraid to act normal around me.
I’m about ready to walk away from fucking all of it after falling over with a growl of energy, almost knocking Boomer out of his perfect fucking compass pose. Where I’m all burly muscle and bulk, he’s lithe and flexible, his muscles capable of doing exactly what he tells them to do.
