31. Annette
Chapter thirty-one
Annette
Regret
Idaho feels different.
Not because the mountains are unfamiliar.
Not because the hospital is larger than Briar Cove General.
Because every hallway reminds me of one I left behind.
The Boise Regional Spinal Rehabilitation Center occupies three floors of the university medical campus main building.
Bright windows.
Wide therapy gyms.
Patients learning to sit.
Stand.
Walk.
Live again.
On paper it's exactly where I always dreamed I'd end up.
Dr. Lawson meets me outside the rehabilitation unit. "You must be Annette Whittier."
I shake his hand.
"Welcome to Boise." He gives me a quick tour, introducing therapists, nurses, physicians, and residents whose names I know I won't remember by lunchtime.
Everyone smiles.
Everyone is kind.
Everyone tells me how much I'm going to love working here.
They're probably right. That somehow makes it worse.
***
My first patient is nineteen years old.
A college baseball player, three weeks removed from a spinal cord injury.
He's angry.
At the accident.
At the wheelchair.
And at everyone trying to tell him recovery takes time.
"I don't need another pep talk."
His words are sharp enough to cut glass. I pull a chair beside his bed. "I wasn't planning to give you one."
That catches his attention. He studies me for a moment. "Then why are you here?"
I smile gently. "Because somebody once reminded me that healing isn't about how fast you get there."
His shoulders relax just enough. And for the next twenty minutes we don't talk about walking.
We talk about tomorrow.
One small goal.
Then the next.
When I leave his room, he thanks me.
It's quiet. Almost reluctant. But it's there.
Dr. Lawson catches up with me in the hallway. "I've been trying to get through to him for days."
I shrug. "He just needed someone to listen."
He smiles. "I think you're going to fit in just fine."
I thank him.
Because it's easier than admitting the truth.
The person who taught me how to encourage someone through impossible healing...
Was the man I walked away from.
***
That evening, I carry a cardboard box into my apartment.
It's small. Clean. Completely furnished.
It doesn't feel like home.
I unpack my coffee mugs. Two of them.
Before I realize what I'm doing, I stand there staring at the second mug.
My chest tightens.
Slowly...
I wrap it back in newspaper.
Place it inside the kitchen cabinet.
Close the door.
Some memories hurt too much to leave sitting on the counter.
Mom calls just after seven.
"Have you eaten?"
I smile despite myself.
"Hello to you too."
"I asked a perfectly reasonable question."
"I had a salad."
"A real salad?"
"Mom."
"That means no."
I laugh. The sound surprises both of us. There's a long pause.
Then, very softly...
"How's your heart?"
The laughter disappears. I look out the apartment window as the sun settles behind the mountains. "I made the right decision."
"I didn't ask about your decision."
Another pause. "I asked about your heart."
I close my eyes.
For the first time since leaving Briar Cove...
I don't trust myself to answer.
***
Week Two…
The spinal rehabilitation unit begins to feel familiar.
Not easy.
Never easy.
But familiar.
Every patient arrives carrying a different version of the same question.
Will my life ever feel normal again?
I don't have answers, only encouragement.
One small goal.
Then another.
Celebrate every inch.
Never measure today's progress against yesterday's loss.
Somewhere during morning rounds, Dr. Lawson smiles as I finish working with another patient.
"I've noticed something."
I glance up from my chart. "What's that?"
"You never tell them what they've lost."
He pauses. "You always remind them what they still have."
His words stay with me the rest of the day.
Because I suddenly realize...
I'm giving everyone else the grace I refuse to give myself.
Mom calls every evening.
Sometimes we talk for twenty minutes.
Sometimes only five.
She never asks if I've changed my mind.
She never mentions Jamie.
Instead, she asks if I've eaten. Whether I'm sleeping. If I remembered to buy groceries.
Normal questions. The kind that somehow make everything feel a little less lonely.
Before hanging up one night she says quietly,
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Another pause.
"Annette?"
"Yes?"
"You don't have to earn being loved."
The line goes silent.
She doesn't explain.
She doesn't need to.
***
Week Three…
The FaceTime request appears just as I'm finishing my notes for the day.
Keisha
I answer with a tired smile. "Hi."
She studies me for exactly two seconds. "Nope."
I blink.
"Nope what?"
"Nope, I'm not doing the polite version tonight."
Despite myself, I laugh. "I didn't realize there were versions."
"There are."
She points toward the camera. "And you've officially earned the honest one."
I lean back against the couch. "Should I be worried?"
"Probably."
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then she asks quietly,
"Did Jamie ask you to leave?"
"No."
"Did he stop loving you?"
"I don't know."
"That's not what I asked."
I look away.
She waits.
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
Her voice softens.
"So, answer the question."
The apartment suddenly feels much too quiet.
Finally...
"No."
"Did he ever make you feel like you weren't enough?"
"Never."
"Did he ever make you feel like your dreams didn't matter?"
"No."
"Then why are you punishing yourself?"
The words hit harder than I expect. "I'm protecting his future."
Keisha tilts her head. "Or are you protecting yourself from believing someone could actually choose you?"
I don't answer, because I can't. She already knows.
"You've spent your whole life believing everyone else's future matters more than your own."
A tear slips free before I can stop it. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
"I know." She smiles sadly. "And one day you'll figure out whether those are the same thing."
Before hanging up she points at the screen one last time.
"And eat dinner."
"I had lunch."
"Annette."
"I'm going."
"Good."
The screen goes dark. For a long time, I sit there staring at my reflection, wondering if I've spent my whole life confusing sacrifice with love.
***
Week Four…
Friday evening.
I'm halfway through reheating leftover soup when my phone buzzes across the kitchen counter.
Incoming FaceTime — Sadie
I smile.
That's unexpected.
The moment I answer, Sadie grins.
"Hi!"
"Hi."
She glances off-screen.
"I think we're ready."
Before I can ask what she means the screen shifts.
Brooke squeezes into view. "There she is!"
Then Becca appears carrying an enormous bowl of popcorn. "Oh good," she says. "We didn't miss the beginning."
I laugh. "What beginning?"
"Your surprise party!"
"My...what?"
Paige suddenly pops into the frame, slightly out of breath. "Sorry I'm late!" From somewhere in the background, Liam calls, "I wanted to be invited!"
"You absolutely were not," Paige says without turning around.
The women burst into laughter.
A second later, Liam's face briefly appears upside down in the corner of the screen.
"Hi, Annette!"
Paige shoves him away.
The call erupts into even more laughter.
For the first time in weeks I laugh so hard my stomach hurts.
Becca points toward the camera.
"There she is."
"What?"
"That smile."
She nods approvingly. "We've missed it."
Before I can answer, Becca narrows her eyes.
"Now..."
She folds her arms. "Have you been eating?"
Every woman groans.
"Becca..."
"What?"
"You're impossible."
"I had teenagers," she says matter-of-factly. "Some habits become permanent."
She looks back at me.
"So?"
I can't help smiling. "I've been eating."
She tilts her head. "Properly?"
I laugh again. "Yes, ma'am."
"There." Becca smiles. "That's all I needed."
The conversation wanders after that.
Brooke shares another story about Caleb pretending he doesn't enjoy bookstore events.
Paige tells us Liam somehow locked himself inside the equipment room.
Again.
Sadie admits Colby still can't decorate cupcakes without making an incredible mess.
Ninety minutes disappear before any of us notice how fast the time has gone.
As everyone starts saying goodbye, Brooke smiles.
"We're doing this again."
"I'd like that."
She laughs. "That wasn't a question."
As everyone waves, Sadie hesitates. "Oh... before I forget."
The others glance toward her. "Colby said Jamie's back skating with the team."
Nobody looks at me. Nobody waits for my reaction. It's simply one friend sharing a piece of news.
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
"I'm glad."
And I mean it. With everything I have.
The call ends a few minutes later. The apartment is quiet once again.
But somehow it doesn't feel nearly as lonely.
For the first time since leaving Briar Cove I realize that Jamie wasn't the only one I left behind.
I'd left people who had quietly become my friends, my family.
Somehow, even from two thousand miles away they'd found a way to remind me I still belonged.
***
Week Five…
Monday mornings always begin the same way.
Coffee.
Charts.
Morning rounds.
Today, my first patient is a forty-eight-year-old construction foreman recovering from multiple fractures after a scaffolding collapse.
His name is John.
He crosses his arms as I enter. "I'll never get back to work."
"We don't know that yet."
"I do."
His words are sharp. Defensive. Fear usually is.
I pull up a chair beside him. "We're not going to worry about six months from now."
He gives me a skeptical look. "We're going to worry about today."
He sighs. "I can't even walk across the room."
"No." I smile gently. "But you stood up yesterday."
He shrugs. "With help."
"So today we'll try again."
Silence.
Then he quietly admits,
"I'm tired of needing people."
The words leave my mouth before I even think about them.
"Needing help doesn't make you weak."
He looks at me.
"It makes you human."
Something catches in my chest.
Jamie.
Those weren't my words anymore.
Somewhere along the way...
They'd become ours.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Lawson joins me while I finish my notes.
"You've got a gift."
I smile politely. "I'm still learning."
"I hope you never stop."