The Amendment (The Contract 2)

I thought of the angry words I had thrown at her. The way I had snapped at Gracie. My impatience with my helpless infant daughter who needed to be fed.

I had failed them all yet again.

They were better off without me. If I couldn’t be the Richard I used to be, they would all be better off without me.

I rolled myself back down the hall, not interested in food or coffee, and stared out the window at the backyard. The water of the pool glimmered in the sunlight, beckoning. I longed to slide into the cool liquid and swim a dozen lengths, kicking and gliding through the water with no thought, and float on my back, carefree and relaxed the way I used to do after coming home from a productive day at the office.

But even that was lost to me.

I hung my head, feeling the weight of my despondency sitting heavy on my shoulders.

Everything felt lost to me.

The sound of the front door opening, and then footsteps made me lift my head.

Katy came back.

I spun the chair, expectation lifting some of the gray fog that seemed to permeate my head these days.

But it was Graham who walked in, his expression serious, a spark of anger in his eyes.

I met that anger with my own. It didn’t take much to fan the flames that lurked below the surface all the time. The fact that it wasn’t Katy was all it took to make it rise to the top and erase all rational thought.

“I suppose Katy ran to you with her sob story?” I snarled.

He sat down. “She came to see us, but there was no sob story.” He tilted his head. “She told us what happened this morning, and of course, defended you, the way she always does.”

“If you came to lecture me, spare it, Graham. I’m not in the mood.”

“I came to tell you that your wife and children are safe. They’ll be staying with us for a while.”

I narrowed my eyes, my chest aching at his words, yet still too angry to reply.

“Katy tells me you want to be alone and concentrate on your healing.”

“It would be a nice change not to be bothered all the time.”

He pursed his lips, studying me. “I had no idea people caring about you bothered you so much, Richard. However, it seems there is a lot about you I didn’t really know.” He paused. “There was a time, not very long ago, you would have welcomed our intrusion in your life.”

“That was before this,” I hissed, slapping my legs. “Before the life I knew was taken away.”

He rubbed his chin, then stood. “You have lost the use of your legs for now. I cannot imagine the implications that has had on your life or your psyche. However, I fear the loss of being mobile is nothing compared to the losses you’re risking with this behavior.”

I curled my fists onto the arms of the wheelchair, but I remained silent.

“You have a wife who loves you whether you can walk or not. You have two little girls who worship you. You’re highly respected in your field. You have friends who care. Enough money that your world can be changed and adapted to work within the boundaries needed if you don’t recover.”

“Your point?” I snarled.

“Unless you change, unless you come to terms with the accident, you will lose things far greater than the ability to walk.” He tilted his head. “Where is the Richard I know best—the fighter who lets nothing and no one stand in his way? Where the hell is that spirit? Why have you given up before you’ve even really tried?”

“I have tried,” I shouted. “Nothing is working.”

He shook his head. “No. You haven’t tried. Stop lying to me. To yourself.”

“Fuck you, Graham.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I think you’re the one fucked here, Richard. You need to get your head out of your ass and back in the game. Remember what you have to lose and harness that anger into getting out of that chair.” He glared at me. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

I snapped. “Get out.”

He didn’t move.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I have tried. I have done everything I was told to do, and it hasn’t fucking worked!” I shouted, slamming my hands on my thighs. “I push through the pain every time I do my exercises. I live with it, never knowing when it’s going to hit and steal my strength away. I have given it everything I have, and I’m still stuck in this godforsaken chair with no answers as to why!”

He shook his head. “Katy is right. You’re in denial, and you need to talk to someone. Be honest. Going through the motions isn’t going to get you out of that chair.”

Our gazes locked. Anger wasn’t what I saw in his expression. Worry and disappointment were heavy in his eyes. Neither of which I could cope with right now. I spun my chair around, unable to look at him anymore.