Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"This family," she said without a beat. "It's always been."

She said goodbye and marched out, her heels clicking away and fading as she went down the corridor and out the door.

.

That night I wrote my two hardest letters, one to Roy and one to my real father, telling them both what had happened to me and what I had been doing as a result. I followed Doctor Snyder's advice and filled my letter with optimism, almost making my tragic accident sound like a little fall.

"For a while," I concluded in both letters. "I want to remain at home completing my therapy. Some day in the near future, I'll reconsider my plans to return to England."

I told them both not to worry about me and I promised them both I would stay in touch.

I had the hardest time falling asleep that night. Writing the letters had stimulated happier memories. My father had filled me with such hope and promise and I had been looking forward to seeing him again and becoming part of his family more than I had looked forward to anything in my whole life. Now that seemed impossible,

I thought about how terrible Roy was going to feel and how he would somehow blame it on himself that he wasn't here protecting ine. I was afraid he might do something else to get himself in trouble and I had warned him in my letter not to do anything that would make me feel worse. I hoped he would listen, but I knew how headstrong he could be.

Everyone came back to me that night. I saw myself with Beneatha at dances. I saw myself walking with Mama and listening to her happy chatter. I recalled my long walks with Randall Glenn in London, our touring of the city and our strolls along the Thames. My memories were all memories of me moving. How terrible it is to lose something we all take so much for granted. I thought.

Before long my pillow was soaked with my tears and I had to turn it over to try to sleep on it. I didn't fall asleep until almost morning and I wasn't very good in my therapy sessions. Doctor Synder came to see me t

o talk about it.

"I'm glad you're moping about and crying about yourself," she said, which surprised me. "Hate yourself for what and who you think you are and that will give you more motivation to improve and change and become the woman I expect you to become."

She reached out and seized my wheelchair wheels, turning them around so I had to look at myself in the mirror.

"Go on, stare at that girl. Is that who you are. Rain?"

"I don't know who that is," I said.

"Exactly. Drive away this stranger who has taken over your body. Drive her out through your therapy and your determination to take control of your destiny again."

"I'll never hold a man's hand and walk again. I'll never dance."

"You will."

"How?"

"You will hold his hand and roll along with him and you will dance in your mind and you'll be so strong, he won't see you as anything but standing beside him. That's the way it is between my husband and me and that's the way it will be for you," she assured me.

"Go on, get out of here and take charge of your life. Rain Arnold."

I smiled at her.

"Will you come to see me?"

"No,'" she said. I lost my smile. "You'll come to see me." she corrected and I laughed. "That's more like it. I've got to go to see some patients who really need me now," she concluded and started out.

"Doctor Snyder."

"What?" she asked turning. "Thank you."

"Thank you," she returned.

"Why?"

"Every time I see determination in a patient's face. I get stronger myself. You'll understand. In time, you'll understand." she said.

I watched her wheel herself out and then I sucked back my renegade tears and reached deep down inside myself to dip into that well of grit Mama Arnold had created in me.