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“It will not be six-months, mark my words.” Maybe I am acting a little cocky, but dammit, it’s time.
“Let’s see if you can impress me in a month.”
“Encouraging her only adds to the tenacity,” Evin states dryly. “You’re laying down a challenge.”
At the word challenge, I perk up. “I’m ready for the plan. Don’t go sissy on me. ”
“How did you refer to it? The full, brutal, pain-staking, and push my limits treatment?”
“Good memory.”
“I’ll work up something next week. Losing that boot means full weight on your entire leg. The impact will affect the reconstructed tendon. It’s weak. One wrong twist, turn, or off-angle step could mean setbacks. Don’t make me regret this.”
“You won’t.”
Evin hands me the boot, and we say our goodbyes, going to the truck. My mind is racing with excitement and readiness to finally get to exercising and stretching my knee full-time.
I’m lost in my world, frantically trying to keep up with the responses from my family group text. Evin’s phone rings, breaking me out of my daze, and when I glance over, an icy chill prickles over my skin. His body is stiff, jaw locked tight, and the normal brightness in his eyes is now dark.
We drive into the entrance of my neighborhood, and I realize we’ve been in the car for over twenty minutes. He hasn’t said a word. The look he shared with Dr. Rexwell before leaving the office flew right over my head, but now it’s sinking in.
“Sweetie, is something wrong?”
He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth, his aim staying forward.
“I thought you were satisfied with the appointment.”
“The appointment was fine. I enjoyed that split second of good news before you went straight for more.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m proud of you, your doctors and therapist are proud of you, fuck, everyone is over the moon with your progress. Instead of taking a few minutes to discuss that, you went in hard on the next steps.”
“Of course I did! It’s been eleven weeks. That man controls my fate when it comes to my leg, and he has to see my dedication and sense of urgency.”
He whips into a spot, slams the rental in park, and finally looks over. “Your dedication has never been questioned. But why the sense of urgency?”
“Are you kidding? I thought you understood how much this means to me.”
He gets out of the truck and comes to my side, offering my crutches. He walks ahead, unlocking the door and letting us in. I shuffle by him to the living room and wait for him to join me. The next sound I hear is the slamming of my bedroom door. I blow out a breath and hang my head, unsure of what is happening. There’s no time to go to him before he’s walking back through, fully changed.
“Going for a run.”
“We need to talk about this. Why are you so angry? Because I pushed for intensive rehab? Don’t you want me to get better?”
“Of course I do. You said it yourself, you’re athletic and your muscle memory is strong. You’re already ahead of the timeline.”
“I said that before reality crashed down!” I lash back. “Look at me, I’m helpless.”
“You are far from helpless,” he answers flatly.
“Everyone around me is inconvenienced with having Poppy duty. Annie has a calendar filled with my schedule. You refuse to leave me alone because you’re terrified something may happen. We fall asleep on the sofa and you have to carry me to bed unless we want to go through the hassle of putting this damn boot back on. I rely on others for almost everything. Without you around, I require a chair to shower. Do you have any idea how losing your independence feels?”
“No, I don’t know how it feels, but we see things differently. No one is inconvenienced. Mom has a calendar with your schedule, but if you paid attention, you’d know she has everyone’s schedule. Darby and Ashlyn’s appointments, the kids’ activities, birthdays, anniversaries, special occasions—all of it. You may not drive, shop, or do laundry yourself, but it’s only a matter of time. After next week, you can burn the shower chair.”
“For half of our marriage, I’ve been crippled. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Crippled? How can you say that? What about the things you are doing? Most nights, we eat a meal you cook alone and it’s always fucking incredible. You help Darby in her bakery and she loves it. Everything you did for Ashlyn’s baby shower? Helping Tessa organize my office? Taking over the job of handling the holiday gifts for my clients so she doesn’t have to? Do you give yourself credit for anything?”
“Evin, those things are menial. They have little purpose.”
“Purpose? They have a fuck of a lot of purpose for the others and me. What happened today in that office? I understand the motivation, but it was more. What are you trying to prove, Poppy?”
