Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"Are you staying for lunch?" I quickly asked.

"Are you inviting me?"

If you'd like to stay, you can stay." I said, retreating from any show of feeling. Being wounded so many times in relationships when I was completely healthy made me hesitant. Now I had even more reason to be.

"That's not much of an invitation. My ego's bruised, but," he added grasping the handles of my chair and starting me around. "I'm starving so I'll bear it."

He couldn't see the smile on my face as we started back toward the house, but it was there, sitting firmly on my lips like the memory of some wonderful soft kiss.

.

I had to believe Austin had at least one ulterior motive to his wanting to be at lunch. He spent most of the time talking about different foods with Mrs. Bogart. He believed the diet I followed was important. I could see she wasn't happy about having her menus challenged or him dictating anything to her. but Austin had an unobtrusive way about him and complimented her on so many different things that by the time lunch was over, she was smiling at him, albeit reluctantly, nodding her head and looking at him with approval.

"That young man knows his sniff." she told me afterward. "I've seen some pretty poor excuses for therapists in my time. Believe me, it's important to have a good one."

Austin had left instructions for activities I should follow when he wasn't here. He wanted me on the leg machine for at least ten minutes, three times a day. Mrs. Bogart hovered over me when I got myself from the chair to the machine. but I insisted on doing whatever I could do myself, by myself, Nothing haunted my thoughts as much as Doctor Snyder's warning not to become dependant on anyone. Independence was the key to the doorway of any real recovery. I thought,

Even if it meant it would take me ten times as long to get something done for myself, I would do it myself. I quickly learned how to get myself out of bed every morning, how to dress myself, and even as painful and as awkward as it was, to put on my own shoes and socks.

Sometimes. I would get so exhausted. I would fall asleep in my chair, my head down, my arms dangling, and when I woke, either after twenty minutes or an hour. I would ache in new places. Mrs. Bogart retreated, waited in the wings, or sometimes. I think, just stood there outside my doorway. listening. Maybe she was hoping I would scream for her and be more dependent on her. but I wouldn't call her unless it was absolutely necessary. I was still timid about some things, like getting myself in and out of a bathtub and had to have her assist me there.

Austin was to come every weekday for the first two weeks. It got so I looked forward to his arrival more than anything else. Gradually, he increased my activities. I exercised to his music and grew stronger and stronger. He spent lots of time just going through the basic movements of everyday life, showing me ways to let out of bed easier, move my body better to avoid pressure sores, and how to manipulate my wheelchair to get the most efficient use of it. It took a few attempts. but I was finally able to get myself up the ramp outside.

During our frequent breaks. Austin would tell me about some of his other clients, two of whom were at a rest home.

"Both of them still have pretty young minds. There are a lot of similarities between them and young people handicapped in one way or another. I just look past the wrinkles and gray hair and think of them the same as anyone else trying to regain mobility or movement to accompany their youthful mentality. I was thinking that it would be perfect if we all went brain dead first, like some switch..." he said looking away and smiling. "Yes, a switch would be flipped and our bodies would shut down instead of our bodies weakening or sickening and then leaving us..."

"Looking out of windows?" I suggested.

"Yeah." His smile became a flag of firm resolution. "I'm going to get you out of here. Rain. You won't be stuck behind any window. You're doing terrific. What do you say tomorrow we try some of that aqua therapy. It's supposed to be close to ninetyfive degrees and sunny. I bet it would be fun."

"I don't know." I shook my head fearfully.

"C'mon, take a chance," he urged.

I laughed.

"Not much really of a chance for me to take, is it?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"I don't have much to risk anymore, right?"

"Wrong. You've act more to risk. You have all this extra experience and knowledge to hand down."

"What extra knowledge?" I asked, turning my eyebrows in toward each other.

"You know how to defeat tragedy," he told me.

I wasn't sure if everything he was doing was contrived, planned, right down to his smiles and laughs, but for now. I didn't care. It all made me feel too good and hopeful and that was something I wasn't about to surrender, even in the face of deceit.

"Okay," I said. "We'll go swimming. Or rather, you'll go swimming and I'll be a float."

"No you won't. You'll see," he said.

After he left I went through my wardrobe, searching for my bathing suits. I had the one I used as a uniform at Dogwood and I had two others, but they were both two-piece, one so abbreviated it was technically a bikini. I laid them all on the bed and pondered. It would take me hours to try them all on. I thought, but my fear of looking bad was motivation enough to give me the strength,

Mrs. Bogart looked in on me while I was struggling with the school suit.

"Why are you putting that on?" she asked and I told her Austin's plan.