Her heart sank. She was really going to have to say this – here, now, with him staring at her with hope in his eyes.
“The damage to my spine is irreparable,” she said carefully, not wanting to lead him on. “And it is permanent. But I had an opportunity, one that changed my life. I learnt how to work with my body, instead of against it. Learning to walk with braces and crutches gave me back some of the freedom that I lost. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. I try to split my time between braces and chair now, depending on what I need to do. Long distances are easier with my chair. Accessibility is better with my braces.”
She tried to sound confident, matter-of-fact. In control. Through the silence that hung over them, the air seemed to explode with questions.
“I don’t understand,” he frowned. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to – I mean, how is that even possible?”
“I compensate. It’s a technique. To an extent, I can still control the way my legs respond, even if they aren’t getting the messages from my brain. Braces keep my legs straight, giving me the support I need to stand. By using the muscles in my hips, my back and my abs, I can raise my hip. My leg follows and the rest is just forward momentum. It has its challenges – I mean, I have to see what my legs are doing in order to direct them – but it’s better than being in my chair all the time.”
“I had no idea,” he mumbled, as her words sank in. “So, you can’t feel anything – at all?”
His eyes were heavy with sorrow. She tried to rise above it, to tell herself that she could do this, purely because she wanted so badly for him to see how well she was handling everything – how together she was. But it wasn’t that easy. This was Jack. He knew her inside out – at least, he had, once upon a time. She couldn’t smoke-screen him as easily as she could everyone else. What if he saw the truth, despite what she said?
She found herself staring at her coffee cup again, her heart racing. “Below my hips, everything is pretty much numb. The best way I can explain it is that my legs feel like they’re packed in ice – not cold, just kind of… disconnected from the rest of me, if that makes any sense. Sometimes they tingle, sort of like pins and needles.”
Almost like they’re waking up but they never do.
“Does it hurt? I mean, the pins and needles thing?”
“Not really. It takes me by surprise sometimes, though, sort of comes out of the blue, y’know? It can be a bit uncomfortable. My neurologist says I’m lucky, overall. I don’t have any muscle spasms, just a bit of back pain sometimes. Callum helps me with massage and exercise, and I swim. That helps.”
She found herself wanting to downplay everything, not wanting to scare him. She waited, giving him time to process. After a few moments, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, sitting back in his chair.
“I’ve replayed that night over and over in my head,” he said, staring blankly at the coffee mug in front of him. “I dream about it – the accident. Sometimes it feels like I can take control of what happens, like I can change things – some things. Nothing important, though. It doesn’t matter how hard I try or what I do, I can never change how it ends.”
She thought about the running dream. It was different all the time, but the overall feeling of helplessness remained long after she woke up. Was it the same for him?
“I think about what I could’ve done differently, what might’ve happened if I’d done this instead of that – if Callum hadn’t needed a lift and we’d taken the bike instead of my car, if we hadn’t taken River Road… if we’d just been somewhere else – anywhere else – at that exact moment.”
She sat mesmerised, staring at the top of his bowed head. “I don’t remember any of it. I don’t even remember waking up that morning. I remember the day before, and I remember waking up in the hospital. The rest is just… gone.” She made an attempt at humour to lighten the mood. “I’m kind of pissed off, to be honest. I’ve only ever been to that one Pearl Jam concert and I can’t even remember it.”
He didn’t smile.
“The two most dangerous words in the English language – what if,” she said, the wistful smile fading. “They can drive you mad. You can’t spend your life wondering about what might’ve happened. It doesn’t matter how much we want to change things, the fact is we can’t. The only thing we have control over is the present and the future. The past is gone, over. We have to move forward – we don’t have a choice.”
He reached across the table and laid his hand gently over hers. She fought the urge to pull away, the gesture so familiar yet so terrifying. Afraid to look up, she watched as he slowly turned her hand over, gently running his fingertips over the calluses at the base of her fingers. She cringed, trying to ease her hand out of his, but he held fast.
“Please don’t,” she whispered. “I hate them.”
“Why do you hate them?”
“Look at them – they’re ugly.”