Page 45 of Hearts & Embers

A few regulars noticed the sling immediately.

Questions followed, explanations followed the questions and sympathy followed the explanations. By the time I finally escaped the conversation and reached the area where I normally trained, I'd already repeated the same summary half a dozen times.

I completed the handful of rehabilitation exercises approved by my physical therapist before spending several minutes staring at equipment I wasn't yet cleared to use. I understood why the restrictions existed, but that knowledge did little to reduce the frustration of standing on the sidelines.

"You look like somebody stole your favourite toy."

I glanced toward the speaker.

"Feels that way, Mike."

He nodded toward my shoulder.

"Doctor still torturing you?"

"Apparently recovery requires patience."

"Who’s have thought it?” He said somewhat sarcastically.

The exchange generated several laughs from nearby members. By the time I left an hour later, my mood had improved slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to remind me that normal life still existed beyond doctors, medications, and recovery schedules.

Fortunately, Aurora helped considerably.

Over the following week we managed several dates despite the limitations imposed by our injuries. None of them were particularly elaborate. Most involved simple dinners, long conversations, and finding reasons to spend time together. The activities mattered less than the company.

Thursday evening found us sharing dinner at a small Italian restaurant within walking distance of her apartment. Aurora’s return to school continued successfully and she possessed approximately two hundred stories involving students determined to investigate every detail of her accident.

The conversation drifted naturally from there. Teaching, Firehouse 99, books, travel, and countless unrelated subjects filled the next two hours. I continued discovering new things about her every time we met which made me like her more and more.

Saturday afternoon we visited a museum.

The outing required considerably more planning than either of us wanted to admit because neither of us could move particularly quickly. Aurora still relied on her walking boot and I remained restricted by my shoulder. Together we probably equalled one functional adult.

"I feel ninety."

Aurora glanced at me.

"Only ninety?"

"Fine. Ninety-five."

"That's better."

The museum itself proved worthwhile. We spent several hours wandering through exhibits while discussing everything from history to architecture. More than once I found myself paying less attention to the displays than the woman standing beside me. Fortunately, she seemed equally distracted.

The physical side of our relationship, limited as it was, continued developing alongside everything else but taking it forward presented its own challenges.

The attraction between us had become impossible to ignore, but the timing remained spectacularly inconvenient. My shoulder limited movement while Aurora's leg created entirely different complications. Every kiss seemed to end with both of us becoming painfully aware of restrictions neither of us particularly appreciated.

The frustration escalated the following Tuesday evening.

Aurora had invited me over after work. Dinner had been eaten, dishes had been cleaned, and we were sharing the couch while discussing a television show neither of us appeared particularly interested in watching.

Her head rested against my shoulder.

My hand traced slow circles across her arm.

The arrangement should have been relaxing.