“Come in.” Sam would want to see her. She hesitated a moment and then entered. As he closed the door, he heard the joy in Sam’s voice as he said, “Hey, Penny.”
The longing was there as it always was. What would it be like to have someone so pleased to see you, even though they saw you yesterday?
He shuffled to the foot of the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Sam called.
“Shower.” He’d give them privacy. He used the railing to help him shuffle up the steps, trying not to put too much weight on his prosthesis. The painkillers hadn’t made a dent yet and aside from the rubbing, nerve pain shimmered up his leg, a constant reminder that one wrong step could take it from manageable to on-the-floor-in-agony pain.
He got out the clothes he would wear after the shower, as well as a fresh sock and liner and carried them into the bathroom.
Sam had installed a railing to help him, and he sat on the edge of the bath to remove his prosthetic limb.
What was he doing here?
Was he really so weak that he couldn’t cope on his own? Was a breadcrumb of affection enough to have him move across the state in the hope of more?
Apparently yes.
Perhaps his father had been right about him all along.
He pushed the thought aside as the prosthesis came free and he sighed. A moment of relief.
The therapist had said the pain would lessen the more exercise he did, and as his stump grew used to the prosthesis.
But he deserved the pain that came with it. He’d made such a stupid mistake.
He turned the cold water on, hopping under it with the help of the rail. The cold soothed his aching leg and he balanced there, eyes closed, as the water trickled over his body.
Was there any point to his life anymore? What was he supposed to do now his career, the only thing he’d ever wanted to do, was over?
He had his drawing.
Stupid idea. His doodles weren’t good enough to provide him with an income. They weren’t good enough to show anyone. His father had made that clear.
His fingers moved as if itching for a pencil.
He hadn’t drawn since the explosion. Hadn’t wanted to deal with the false praise the nurses would have given him for doing something other than staring at the wall all day.
Arthur switched off the water, the habit so ingrained in him that he did it without thinking. Water shouldn’t be wasted even if he was lost in thought.
It took him some time to dress. His hand hesitated as he reached for the prosthesis. Maybe he could get away with just his crutches tonight. Let his stump rest.
But Sam would think him weak.
Gritting his teeth, he placed on the fresh liner liner, and all the other layers until he could stand, and then he washed the ones he’d worn that day.
Voices drifted up to him from the ground floor.
“You can’t expect him to rejoin society in just one day,” Penelope said. “He’s going to need time, and you said he wasn’t a people person to start with.”
Arthur hesitated at the top of the stairs.
“The only time he left the cabin was to use the bathroom,” Sam said. “Gretchen wouldn’t even let me in when he had his leg off.”
“Which means he still feels self-conscious about it. It’s a lot to take in, Sam.” A pause and the clatter of plates. “You might cope differently to him in the same circumstance, but it doesn’t make his reaction any less valid.”
“I just want to help him, and he won’t let me.”
