When Sparks Fly

“I’m so excited to have a walking cast! This means I’ll be able to manage stairs on my own again. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be able to drive.” I chew on my bottom lip, both nervous and eager for that potential development. I could actually drive now if I wanted to, but I’ll feel a lot better about it when my arm is stronger.

While I can’t wait to have my independence back, I’m aware that my PTSD around driving, particularly on the freeway and in the rain, is worse than ever. Thankfully there’s more than one way to get to Spark House, including a slightly longer back road option. And I’ll have Declan or my sisters there as support until I’m feeling confident behind the wheel again.

“Don’t push too hard too fast, Ave.” He gives my thigh a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll take it easy. It’s just nice to finally be able to start real rehab and move around without always needing help.”

“You know I don’t mind.”

“I know and I appreciate that, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about the prospect of doing up my own bra.”

He chuckles and pulls out of the parking lot. He had a million and one questions for the doctor about my walking cast, including what the limitations would be and what exercises I should be doing with my no-longer casted arm. He left with a folder full of resources and a rehab schedule. I’ll start physical therapy for my arm tomorrow, and while I’m aware it isn’t going to be rainbows and sunshine, this is part of the road to recovery.

“Do you think we could stop by Spark House on the way home? I’d love to surprise my sisters.” I hold up my bony arm. I need to shower and wash away the dry, flaky skin, but I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt so it covers the lizardy grossness for now. I’d forgotten how quickly a muscle loses its mass when it’s rendered immobile for six weeks.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you’re on the mend.” He gives me another disconcerted smile as we head toward Spark House.

I clasp my hands in my lap to stop myself from picking at my nails. Declan, true to his word, filed and painted them for me a couple of days ago. It was probably the most hilarious and sweetest thing he’s tried to do. He kept messing up, getting polish on my skin, complaining about how tiny the brush is, and how did anyone do this without getting polish everywhere? It’s not the best job, but they sure look a lot better than they did, and now I’m not tempted to pick at hangnails. Instead, I want to pick the polish until it flakes off. “Maybe in a few days I could try driving, once my arm isn’t so stiff.” I roll my wrist. It aches, the muscles tight and weak from disuse.

“If you want to, sure. We can hit some back roads so you can get comfortable again behind the wheel.”

I upgraded from a sedan to an SUV. We decided after the accident to replace my car with something bigger that would make me feel safer.

For the first while, the anxiety over getting in a car was pretty intense. It’s gotten much better since Declan’s been taking me out on adventure dates. I picked up on the fact that he made each trip a little longer than the last and always finished it off with a stop at one of my favorite cafes or ice cream shops.

“The drive to Spark House would be a good start. I’m itching to get back to work full-time, and I think once I’m comfortable behind the wheel again, it’ll be easier.”

“I can drive you until you’re ready to do it on your own, Ave.”

“I know you can, or my sisters can pick me up, or I can call an Uber, but I have to be able to function on my own, and relying on everyone else to taxi me around defeats the purpose.”

Declan reaches across the console and gives my hand a squeeze. “Let’s take it one step at a time. I get that you want things to go back to normal, but there’s really no rush.”

“You can’t take care of me forever.”

He releases my hand so he can signal his turn down the Spark House drive. “I could, but I doubt you’d let me.”

* * *

It only takes a couple of days for the stiffness in my wrist and elbow to dissipate and some of the strength in my arm to return. Sure, it fatigues easily, but I can deal with that. Having the use of both of my arms and hands is freaking magical. As is having a walking cast. I still have to rely on my crutches, but man, is it ever nice to be able to do mundane, normal things like wash my own hair. Although, I’m not opposed to letting Declan help me out in the shower should he feel like offering his assistance.