27. Roman
27
ROMAN
“Alright, Doc, what are we doing today?”
Is it a figment of my imagination, or is she nervous?
She lets go of her bottom lip that she was chewing on and says, “I thought we’d try the parallel bars today.”
I glance toward the bars and sigh. I hate that fucking harness.
“Without the harness.”
My head snaps back to Lily. “What?” When she only gives me a patient and knowing look, I say, “Lily, I just barely mastered standing on my own. And now you want me to walk?”
She nods in answer.
I look around the room, panic instantly rushing through my veins. This is a huge ask, even for Lily.
“Are we using the FES pads?” I ask, looking for some kind of crutch.
She shakes her head. “No. You can lean on the bars if you need to.”
I gape at her. “ If I need to? Lily, I’m going to need to. I can’t walk.”
Her eyes narrow at me. She’s been getting more and more strict about me not using that kind of language.
Sure enough, she growls, “Don’t make me paint a rah-rah motivational slogan on the wall. You know I’ll do it.”
My gaze slides over to the bars, my heart beating harder and harder against my ribs. I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming. We’ve been repping the same exercises for a while now; I should’ve known I was due for another push-that-feels-too-hard. I guess I got lost in the enjoying-Lily part of therapy.
“So, you want me to just…stand up between the bars and walk?” I ask in a voice that’s too shaky for my liking.
“Yes,” she answers firmly, walking over to the bars. “We’ve worked on all the movements separately, and we’ve built up your strength… so, now it’s time to put it all together.”
“Why can’t we put it all together with the harness?” I’m pleading, but I’m so terrified of what a failure right now might look like that I don’t even care.
“Because you’ve been using it as a crutch, both mentally and physically.” She takes up a stance between the bars, one hand on each side, and gives me an expectant look. “We’ve been putting this off, and you know it. Come on.”
I glance toward the lifting area, wondering if I have any shot at convincing her to just do strength training today, to give me one more session before we try for something this big, but she sees right through me.
Her voice is gentle as she says, “Roman, you’re ready. I promise.”
My stomach clenches, but I nod, albeit reluctantly. Having no more excuses, I spin my wheelchair toward the parallel bars.
Lily waits patiently as I orient myself. Once I’m stationed at the end of the bars, I lock the brakes on my chair, place my feet on the ground, and take another deep breath to ready myself. Then I grab the bars and pull myself to my feet.
Lily shoots forward to steady me as I do it, her hands bracing on my ribs to both help slightly with a lift and to ensure I don’t do a faceplant if everything gives out.
Gritting my teeth, I adjust my white-knuckled grip on the bars and shuffle my stance slightly to feel more balanced.
Then I do it again. And again.
“Roman,” comes Lily’s soft voice.
My gaze jerks up to meet hers. She’s only a few inches from me, her hands still on my sides, her expression one of determination. I don’t know what mine is, but whatever it is, it makes something flash in her eyes that I can’t read.
“I told you once that I understood why you didn’t want to let yourself hope for this, do you remember that?” she asks. I nod once, stiffly. “Do you remember what else I told you?”
I think back to that first heart-to-heart, the one that made me finally commit to giving a shit about my recovery again. But all I can remember about that moment is Lily asking me to trust her.
When I shake my head, that look flashes in her eyes again.
“I told you that it was okay not to hope for it. That I would carry that hope for you.” Her voice drops to a near-whisper. “I’m going to carry it for a little while longer, okay? I just need you to trust me.”
My chest tightens with so much appreciation, so much adoration for this girl, I almost can’t breathe around it.
Forcing the words past my lips, I say, “I trust you.”
A smile appears on her face, and she looks so happy that I’m filled with a burst of determination. I straighten my back and say, “Alright, let’s do this.”
Impossibly, Lily’s smile gets bigger. “When you’re ready, then.”
Looking down at the floor before me, I shift my weight onto my left foot, gripping the parallel bars like my life depends on it, and I will my leg to move.
It takes a second, and it happens at a snail’s pace, but eventually, my quad muscle twitches and my leg moves. My foot slides forward, never fully getting off the ground and without utilizing the proper heel-to-toe motions that Lily has drilled into me, but it does move. It’s a step.
“God,” Lily breathes out, the word made of wonder. I don’t even think she realizes she said it. She’s still holding on to me, still looking down at my legs.
I don’t let myself feel anything because the left side is the harder side. This next step is the true test.
Sucking in a big breath, I attempt the same thing with my left leg. I shift my weight to my right side, engage my left quad, and try to take a step.
I barely move an inch. My left quad is still weak enough that I can’t get my foot off the ground enough to move it.
My held breath whooshes out of me in defeat.
“That’s okay. I’ll just give you a little bit of help for this one,” Lily consoles me, dropping into a squat. She places her hands on my leg so she can better guide me, then looks up and gives me a nod of encouragement.
I grit my teeth…and try again.
Shifting my weight onto my right foot, I attempt to engage my left quad muscle. Again, it barely twitches in response. But when I feel the gentle pressure of Lily pulling my knee forward and lightly lifting by my hamstring, a shock goes through whatever passageway my brain couldn’t access before. And my foot lifts the tiniest bit.
“Perfect,” Lily hums, her smile visible even from where I’m looking down at her. She emphasizes the heel-to-toe movement as I work on the weight shift, and then I’m taking another step with my right foot. No assistance needed this time.
“Come on, Roman, you can do this,” she encourages, her brow furrowing as she holds her hands around my left leg but doesn’t touch. She’s merely ready to, if needed.
I once again will my leg to move, as hard as I possibly can. I visualize my leg working and my foot moving. I picture myself walking .
Slowly, my thigh twitching more than once, I lift my leg, my foot clearing the ground. Then I drop it back down a few inches from where I started.
“Roman…” Lily says in wonder. She straightens and takes up the place she started with: standing before me, ready to catch me as I fall but giving me a look that says she believes with her whole heart that I won’t. I feel a flicker of disappointment that she doesn’t put her hands on me again, while part of me recognizes that also means another crutch has been taken away that I don’t need.
“Do it again,” she breathes, looking down at my legs.
I take another step, if only to get closer to her before she can back up. Because my eyes aren’t on my legs anymore.
They’re on her.
I both see and hear the sob that bubbles past her lips. So, I take another step, wanting, needing to be closer to her.
And then I take another. And another. And by the time I reach the end of the parallel bars, a tear is running down Lily’s cheek.
“You did it,” she says on a cry, lifting her head to look up at me. “I knew you could, but…”
I shift my weight slightly to make sure I can let go of the bar with one hand, the other one still holding firmly. And I lift my hand to Lily’s face.
“I think I’m ready to carry that hope now,” I whisper.
Her eyes fill with tears all over again, and when another runs down her cheek, I brush it away with my thumb.
And then, I kiss her.
It’s everything and nothing like our kisses before this. She tastes just as sweet, and I want her just as much, but things also feel…different.
I’m not kissing her to feel something—I’m kissing her because she’s everything .