The Amendment (The Contract 2)

“It’s had weeks,” I snarled.

“The damage was severe, and we knew it could take longer. You knew that. You also knew all the work would be on you.” His gaze was intense. “Your attitude will also affect your recovery, and the last little while, you’ve put in the physical effort, but not the mental. If you believe you won’t walk, then you won’t—no matter what I do to help you.”

“What about the pain? It hits me and renders me numb—why can’t you get that to stop?”

He spoke slowly. “You’ve been checked and tested, Richard. Several times. Some pain is normal, but what you describe…” His voice trailed off. “There isn’t a cause that can be found, and I agree with the doctor’s assessment. It could be a phantom pain—something locked in your psyche only you can break.”

I pounded my hands on the armrests. “Enough of the mental bullshit mumbo jumbo. It’s not in my fucking head. I feel it. I live it. If you’re not up to the challenge, I’ll find someone who is. Do your job. Fix me.”

He picked up his bag, not reacting to my anger. “I am doing my job, Richard. You’re the one who isn’t giving one hundred percent. I think you need to talk to someone—someone who can help you work out this anger.”

I glared at him. I was getting tired of people’s advice. The carefully chosen words that included professional and mind over matter. All bullshit.

“I can help heal your body, Richard. You need someone else to help heal your mind.”

“Get out,” I snarled.

He sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Call me when you’re ready to get back to work.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He shook his head. “Your stubbornness is something I had hoped would work for you. At the moment, however, it’s messing with your mind. You need to figure this out. You need to find your reason, Richard.”

I yanked the chair to the left, ignoring him.

He pulled the door shut behind him, leaving me with my thoughts.

The pain was driving me insane. It happened every time I was forced to move. At the start of exercises, when transferring to the bed. It was the same damn pain I recalled having before I passed out in the car. Excruciating. That was what was holding me in this chair. I was furious that no one was addressing the issue. I needed a new specialist—someone who would listen. Not some head doctor.

A few minutes later, Katy came in. She regarded me for a moment, then spoke.

“Was that completely necessary?”

“What?” I snapped.

“Telling Colin off.”

“He was pissing me off. I pay him to do a job, and he isn’t doing it. None of them are.”

She crossed her arms, looking at me with the same thinly disguised impatience Colin had a few moments ago. It angered me further, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

“You have something to say?”

“He’s right, Richard. I think you need to talk to someone.”

I threw up my hands. “Great. Now you want me to talk to a shrink or something?”

“Yes. Maybe if you talked about how you’re feeling instead of bottling it up inside, it would help. Maybe you could get past whatever is stopping you from moving forward.”

“You think it’s that simple?” I sneered.

She sighed, looking weary. “I don’t think any of this is simple. I think it’s so complex that we need help.”

I gripped the armrests. “What would help is getting out of this chair. Being productive. Being a man.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Is that it? You don’t feel like a man? You think walking defines who you are?”

I exploded.

“What defines who I am is gone, Katy!” I yelled. “I sit in this fucking chair every day. I can’t walk. I can’t go for a run. I can’t play with my children. I can’t make love to my wife. I can’t go into the office and be productive. I depend on you and strangers for everything. I’m trapped, and I fucking hate it!”

She stared at me, her expression filled with sorrow. She crossed the room and kneeled by the chair, gripping my arm.

“I know things seem dark, Richard. But this isn’t going to be forever. We have to keep hoping. You have to keep working and pushing. If anyone can do this, you can. I know it.”

I shook my head, the ugly, angry words out before I could stop them.

“So typical of you, Katy. Always trying to find the positive. See the good. Letting me walk all over you, the same way I did when you worked for me, as if in some way it would change the situation. I hated it before, and I hate it now.”

Her expression changed. The woman I knew, the woman I loved, disappeared. The light in her eyes dimmed as she stepped away from me.

“You’re back,” she murmured.