CHAPTER 15 STORE-BOUGHT BONES
STORE-BOUGHT BONES
Phoenix
The cool, rubber-scented physical therapy rooms represented normalcy, his workday routine. Under Nadine’s tough and patient tutelage, Phoenix learned the purpose of every mat, table and set of parallel bars. He practiced over and over, his muscles memorizing new routines.
Early on, Nadine explained how Phoenix was lucky. She showed him his portion of her notebook.
“LBK—left below the knee—means you can walk with a completely normal gait. You’re really just missing an ankle and a foot.”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked dryly.
She liked his work ethic. “You really push yourself,” she commented.
“Well, better that than to picture my mom wheeling my chair or sponge-bathing me,” he deadpanned, huffing between repetitions of sit-ups to strengthen his core muscles.
After a few weeks together on a daily basis, Nadine got his vibe pretty well. He refused her encircling arms and grimaced as he stumbled while practicing on stairs, hopping with one hand on a railing. She cocked an eyebrow at him, a sure sign she was about to give advice.
“I know you’re really pushing yourself towards independence, and that’s great.” He nodded, waiting for the but while forcing himself upright. “But,” she continued, “if you do need help, or need to look foolish, don’t let pride get in your way.”
Sweat dripping, he pulled out his ready shield of sarcasm.
“Easy for you to say as you stand there on two feet, two perfectly good hands on your hips as you judge me.”
“Hey,” she said softly, “I like you well enough I’d give you one of mine if I could.”
Damned if that genuine look of concern didn’t make his chest swell with emotion.
“Nah, no donor limbs for me, with the rejection drugs and all. But you’re really thoughtful, you know that?”
She rolled her eyes. “With all that sweet talk, your girlfriend better get here soon,” she warned.
He looked away. “There’s no girlfriend.”
Even so, Phoenix thought of Orchid. She’d be returning from China the following Saturday. And expecting him at the airport. He couldn’t even get himself to a Starbucks, much less JFK.
“Any woman would be crazy to turn you away,” Nadine assured.
“There’s some kind of crazy going around, all right,” he responded.
“Speaking of crazy,” she said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “can you believe all your progress in a month?”
“Yup,” he shrugged, “tomorrow’s the one-month anniversary of my accident.”
Nadine leaned back to examine his expression. “You know, maybe a month is too early, but people sometimes celebrate the anniversary of their near-miss with death as an ‘Alive Day.’ It’s better than mourning what was lost.”
“You can ask me in a year, but you’ll have to pardon me if I don’t feel like celebrating right now.”
The mischief effervesced higher in Nadine’s eyes. “You might change your mind when I tell you what we’re doing today.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, curiosity piqued. “You going to stretch me until I cry? Make me do another umpteen push-ups?”
She stood, pointing at his chair. “Not quite. Let’s go get you fitted for prostheses.”
“Today?”
“Right now.”
Phoenix pulled the chair closer. Then he pushed to a stand and lowered himself into the seat.
“Ok,” he said, placing a hand on the push rim, “where to?”