Teddy smiled back at him, still feeling silly despite Finn’s understanding. “I suppose you’re used to sob stories.”
“Well, yeah.” Finn settled in the chair at the desk, facing Teddy. “But it’s hard for me, too, when there’s someone I can’t help, or when how I can help isn’t what they think they need to be happy. Losing a limb or mobility, having chronic pain,so many of the things I deal with are a big part of a person’s identity, and people don’t handle losing control of their identity well.”
“Like your father.” Teddy’s heart broke for Finn as soon as he said it, because that sorrow was bare and potent before Finn collected himself.
“Yeah. I’m still sorry I—”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m glad I was there when you needed someone to listen.”
Teddy had read between the lines of what Finn said that night, and part of him wondered if his father had killed himself, if he’d even had help. Teddy couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for him after already losing his mother.
He would have been angry and sad and confused, and now, as an adult looking back, he wanted to understand while still feeling all those same emotions.
“Thank you,” Finn said earnestly. “You know, that might be the toughest part of my job, recognizing that sometimes I can’t save everyone. It’s hard knowing I can’t always make a difference no matter how much I try.”
That was probably the most vulnerable thing Finn had yet shared with him, which made it easy to reply, “You make a difference with me.”
There came the sunshine again with the creases of Finn’s dimples. “Come on. We have to get some work done if we’re going to earn our date. You sure you don’t mind waiting for me after? Frankie’s my last patient, but that’s still another hour—”
“Actually, I have an idea about that.” An idea that had struck Teddy just that moment.
“Oh?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re done.”
They kept the exam short to get to Teddy’s exercises, making good time once they were in the workout room, but even so,Frankie came in before Teddy was finished, obviously showing up early now to see him.
Instead of saying hello, Teddy called out loud enough for both Finn and Frankie to hear, “How about I help Miss Nutcracker with her PT today?”
“What?” Finn blinked in confusion.
“I’m not ready to dance now,” Frankie sputtered in equal shock.
“Ever hear the expression ‘sometimes you need to run before you can walk’?” Teddy rolled to his feet, abandoning his last set of exercises to approach her.
She grabbed on to the bars of the walking station but seemed hesitant to let her crutches fall.
“Is that why you keep talking aboutThe Nutcracker?” Finn turned to Teddy with a creeping smile. “You’re going to teach Frankie to dance?”
The poor kid looked caught between being terrified and elated.
“We’ll start small,” Teddy said.
There were two obvious first steps in any dancer’s repertoire that would be beneficial to someone still learning their balance. Teddy moved to be in front of the walking station, motioning for Frankie to come closer at his right.
“Lose the crutches. You can do what I’m about to teach you without them. If you start to fall—”
“You’ll catch me?”
“No”—Teddy scowled—“you can grab onto the bar behind you. Grab me and I’ll go down with you.”
Frankie smirked.
“You too, Finn. Come on.” Teddy waved Finn over to stand in line with him at his left, and Finn obeyed with a crook to his smile.
After a moment Frankie threw her crutches aside and walked—gingerly—to stand by Teddy.
“Slow, minimal movement, shifting your weight between your feet. Right”—he leaned onto his right foot, lifting his left slightly—“back”—he stepped back with his left behind the right, putting all of his weight there—“change”—he stepped back onto his right, bringing his left up where it had started and shifting to do the same movements on the other side.
