Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Eden
The physiotherapy clinic smells like eucalyptus body lotion, rubber mats, and stale coffee.
But at least the walls have color instead of the hospital’s stark white.
The girl at the counter is way too smiley.
I’m surprised that is actually a thing, but apparently so.
She just sits and smiles at her computer. It’s creepy.
In fact, everyone here is disgustingly friendly. Stepford Wives but worse because they’re all pretending that pain can be measured on charts and solved with time. Maybe some can, but other scars never heal and ache when you’re least expecting them too.
I sit beside Felix in the waiting area while snow spirals past the front windows outside. My knee bounces anxiously until his hand settles over it.
“Relax,” Felix whispers.
Not going to happen, but I nod anyway.
There are elderly people doing stretches in the corner. A woman with a shoulder brace talks softly with the receptionist. Somewhere farther down the hall, someone groans in pain, and the sound crawls beneath my skin.
I want to leave. I want my mom, and I don’t care that I sound five in my head. I’ve taken my family for granted, assuming they will be here to see me through life, marriage, and kids. I never, not once, ever imagined this.
My throat burns, and my chest aches. I choke back the sob that sneaks up out of nowhere and grips me. I cover my mouth to try and beat back the sudden barrage of emotion.
Felix notices immediately, his hand going to my back and rubbing in small circles.
“You okay?”
No. Not even remotely.
“I’m fine.”
His thumb rubs once over the back of my neck, and a little shiver races down my back.
“Eden Hale?”
Felix tenses as I look up to see who called my name. A tall and far too attractive man in black scrubs smiles warmly at me. I lift my hand into the air.
“Hi, I’m Jonathan. Come on back.”
Felix stands with me, and I glance up at his face. Even though his expression is hard to read, I feel like he is suddenly pissed, which makes no sense.
The physiotherapist glances between us.
“Oh, family can wait out here if you’d like,” he says.
Before I can answer, Felix jumps in.
“Where Eden goes, I go, but thanks.”
Something about the firmness in his voice makes my stomach flip. Is he jealous? I blink, confusion added to the already mixed bag of emotions swirling as wildly as the wind outside.
Jonathan nods slowly.
“Okay.”
Felix helps steady me as we follow Jonathan down the hall. My lone crutch creating an uneven rhythm on the linoleum floor.
“It’s really getting nasty out there,” Jonathan comments, looking out a large window.
He’s not wrong. The world outside is blanketed in fresh white powder. Once, I thought it was pretty, but now…it’s just another reminder.
Jonathan leads us into an assessment room. A long metal bar runs along one wall. Resistance bands hang from hooks and a medical table is covered in crinkly paper. My anxiety spikes instantly.
“Alright,” Jonathan says, pointing to the table. “Why don’t we start with you telling me what happened and the injuries we’re focusing on?” He looks at his chart. “Your medical records haven’t arrived yet.”
I bite my lip, and Felix grips my hips, helping me up onto the table before standing beside me and lacing our fingers together. I glance at them for a moment and realize that it feels normal to have him here.
Shaking myself out of the thoughts, I look up at Jonathan.
“I was in a car accident Friday night.” I glance at Felix. “We both were,” I say softly, and then I list my injuries as if I’m ordering a meal from the McDonald’s menu.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he says, making notes and asking more questions about pain and mobility. He is quiet for a minute and then points to my sprained ankle. “Let’s start with your ankle and work on movements to help build back your strength.”
“Okay.”
Felix stays close by, and I get the feeling he won’t move even if Jonathan comments.
Jonathan adjusts the table so that it is upright like a chair.
“Sit with your back here.” He taps the raised piece. “And swing your legs up straight. We’ll need to remove the boot for this.”
Felix lifts my legs, but when Jonathan reaches for my Aircast, his face darkens.
“I’ve got it,” Felix says, and the room fills with tension.
“It’s okay, Felix.”
He looks at me, and I swallow hard at his angry stare.
“No, I’ve got it,” he says again, and Jonathan backs off.
I’m not sure what to make of the overly protective attitude, but I let it go while Jonathan smiles as if nothing happened. As soon as the boot is off, Felix comes to stand by my side and grips my hand.
“We are going to start with ankle circles. This is a simple mobility exercise. You’ll rotate your foot in a circular motion to move the ankle joint through the full range. Start small, ten to the left, then ten to the right.”
I do as he says. It hurts but doesn’t feel sharp. It’s more like a deep, annoying ache.
“Excellent. You’re doing great.” He counts to ten for me. “Good, now a little larger.”
I repeat.
Then he gets me to do something called an ankle alphabet. I lift my leg slightly off the table and use my foot to trace letters in the air. I only make it to M before I have to take a break.
“Good, now sit up straight and take a few slow deep breaths.” I nod. “Nice, we’ll work on your forearm next.”
Jonathan holds out his hand and smiles. I place my casted arm in his open palm. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Felix glare. But when I look at him, it’s gone, and I wonder if I imagined it.
“Since you still have a cast, and will for awhile yet, I want you to open and close your hand. This is best on a flat surface. Sit at a desk or kitchen table and keep your arm like this.” He holds my arm at a 90-degree angle from my body. “And now slowly open and close your hand.”
I wince as I make a fist.
“Good, but if the pain is sharp, stop. It will ache and hurt, but it should never be a stabbing pain.”
I nod.
We go on like this for forty-five minutes. My brain is as tired as my body and feels just as beat up.
“Okay, that is it for today. I want to see you three times a week, and as you get stronger and regain flexibility, we will add more movements to your at-home exercises.”
Stupidly, I don’t wait for Felix to put the boot on in my hurry to get out of this place. Sliding off the table, I put all my weight on my ankle. Pain shoots up my leg.
“Dammit,” I yelp, lifting it off the floor.
“Eden, it’s okay.” Felix wraps his arm around my waist immediately. “Let me get your boot on.”
I nod.
“Make sure to ice it and keep it elevated when you get home. Try not to put too much weight on it for the rest of the night,” Jonathan says, calmly like he’s dealt with overprotective and worrying men before.
“But…she’s pale,” Felix says. “She can barely stand. Look at her. Do something.”
“Felix, I’m alright. I should’ve waited for the boot. I’m okay,” I say, but he won’t even look at me.
“Mr. —” Jonathan looks at his paperwork as if he’s hunting for the answer.
“Felix.”
“Felix, the goal is recovery. Avoiding all discomfort entirely isn’t realistic. And yes, I’m sure that putting all of her weight on it caused a sudden jolt of pain, but it is unlikely that it caused further damage.”
Jonathan looks up from his paperwork and then holds out a sheet with exercises and a schedule.
“Take your time and see you at your next appointment.”
He opens the door and walks out, leaving me alone with Felix.
Felix locks the Aircast in place before handing me the crutch.
It hurts more now, and I suck in a deep breath.
“Dammit. I hate this,” I mumble.
I feel like such an asshole. I’m weak and tired, and…I don’t know.
“Hey. Hey.” Felix’s hand cups the back of my neck gently. “You’re okay.”
“I feel like such a burden.”
A stupid, exhausted tear trails slowly down my cheek, and Felix immediately wipes it away, his fingers lingers on my cheeks.
“You were in a nineteen-car pileup,” he says firmly. “You’re lucky that you’re walking at all. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You did great today, Jonathan said so.”
I nod despite not feeling lucky. I can hardly breathe. Lucky would’ve been all of us surviving. Not this. Not me watching my parents die.
“Eden, recovery after trauma like this takes time. Not just the physical but mental and emotional as well,” Felix says, pushing the loose strands of hair away from my face before kissing my forehead.
An inappropriate jolt of electricity races down my back
“You’re doing really well,” he says quietly and cups my cheeks. “And remember you have me.”
“I can’t even put pants on by myself.”
“That doesn’t make you weak, and again, that’s why you have me.” Something unreadable flickers across his face. “Your body survived something catastrophic. Stop punishing it for struggling afterward.”
The words are a smack to the face even though he didn’t mean them to be. My mum said something like that all the time. I thought she was just being my mum and trying to make me feel good.
I look down at the exercises and recovery timelines and immediately feel overwhelmed.
“I just wish I were more like you. You have to be grieving, but you’d never know. I hate the whole world seeing my pain written across my face.”
“I’m only doing this well because of you. You’re my support, Eden. I have no one either.”
Felix’s eyes fill with emotion, tugging on my heart. It’s as if we are entwined together in this strange way that I don’t think anyone will ever understand but us.
“Can we go?” My voice sounds so small.
“Sure.”
Felix takes the papers, folds them up, and stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans. Leaning on Felix all the way to reception, we stop so I can book a dozen more appointments.
Outside, the cold is brutal on my lungs. I used to love winter. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at snow with the same love and magical wonder.
“I don’t want to go,” I say quietly once Felix gets in the car.
He pauses.
“To the funeral home?”
“I just can’t do it today. I’m so emotionally drained.”
Felix studies me for a long moment.
His face softens. “Okay.”
Relief hits so hard I almost cry again.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He puts on his seatbelt and starts the car. “I’ll just run inside and get information instead.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He gives me a tiny smile. “No arguments. I want to. Just believe it already,” he says and there is an edge of humor but also a firmness, as if helping me is as natural as breathing.
The drive there is quiet, and my body aches everywhere now. An ache so deep I feel it in my bones. The kind that settles inside you and refuses to leave. The kind that marks you and reminds you every chance it gets.
When we pull into the funeral home parking lot, I want to throw up. The sign alone is enough. Pembroke Funeral Home and Chapel.
Felix notices me spiraling before I even say anything.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
Blinking back the pain, I look him in the eyes, and he gives me a small smile.
“I’ve got you.”
“What about you? Don’t you have to do this for your brother as well?”
He looks sad when he says, “It’s already been handled.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eden.” His eyes hold mine steadily. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, so please stop.”
Then he’s gone.
I stare out the windshield as the snow falls around the car, but it is the woman crying on a man’s shoulder near the entrance that captures my attention.
My chest feels hollow as if someone has scooped out everything important and left the shell behind.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to bury my parents when I still expect them to walk through the front door. This is all just a terrible joke or a huge misunderstanding, right? I grip the necklace that they gave me last year. The silver turtle pendant gives me the smallest bit of comfort.