214 Palmer Street(19)
“It’s not that I want to read hateful notes. I just think it might help jog my memory.”
“I get it. It has to be frustrating.”
“It is.” She settled back into the pillow and took a deep breath.
“I’m going to take care of you, so no more worries. You trust me, right?”
Before drifting off to sleep she managed to answer, “Of course I do.”
TWELVE
Without having to go to work, Sarah would have thought her days would be empty, but recovering turned out to be a full-time job. The doctor made it sound like she’d had a minor head injury but nothing about it felt minor. The things she’d previously done almost on autopilot now required enormous amounts of effort. Showering was equivalent to an hour’s hike. Leaving their bedroom and walking down the stairs to the first floor required extra energy. Naps were a common part of her routine. Truthfully, she felt like sleeping all the time. If not for Kirk prodding her to go for walks, and pushing her to get out, she’d have checked out of life completely. It was depressing being less than her former self. Kirk recognized her emotional state and bolstered her spirits. For the first time in their married life he put his business in second place, ignoring phone calls and letting other team members make decisions about the dealership. She’d hear him on the phone saying, “I’m with my wife right now, so you’ll just have to handle it.”
Because she couldn’t trust herself to drive safely, Sarah agreed to temporarily give up her car. “There’s no point in it sitting in the garage for the next few months,” Kirk said. “You can drive mine whenever you want and when you’re back to driving on a regular basis, we’ll get you a new one. You can have the pick of the lot.” It made sense. Besides, they had a five-car garage, which held three vehicles, even after hers was taken back to the dealership. Two of the spots in their garage held what he called his babies: a vintage Ferrari, the exact model Kirk had yearned for in his high school years, and an Aston Martin, similar to one driven by James Bond. Not that Sarah ever drove either of them, but she knew where Kirk kept the extra set of keys, so in a pinch she had access to a car.
After she’d been home from the hospital a week, Sarah and Kirk established a routine. Kirk came and went from work but was always there to drive her to doctors’ appointments and to her physical therapy sessions. She couldn’t even imagine how physical therapy could help her, but as it turned out, it was exactly what she needed. She’d been told to dress comfortably, so she wore yoga pants, a T-shirt, and her most comfortable athletic shoes. When she and Kirk walked into the room, the space resembled a private gym more than a medical facility. Phil, her physical therapist, greeted them with a smile. He was in his forties, with graying hair and a slight paunch, which she found surprising for someone in his line of work. “You must be Sarah Aden. Welcome,” he’d said. “I’m glad you’re here.” He had a toothy grin, the kind that looked over-the-top silly in pictures, but endearing in person.
As they made their introductions, Phil shook hands, first with Kirk then turning to grasp Sarah’s hand. He held her gaze for a moment before letting go.
“My doctor suggested physical therapy but I’m not really sure how you can help me,” she told him honestly.
“I’m familiar with your medical history,” he said. She imagined him poring over a folder, then flipping through the doctors’ notes, maybe making a few notations of his own, but of course, no one did that anymore. He probably accessed her health chart online. “As I’m sure you’re aware, everything in the body is interconnected. Exercise has physical and mental benefits. There’s also been studies that show that physical activity speeds healing. Beyond that, we’ll be addressing your issues with vertigo by doing exercises to improve your balance, which will help avoid falls. What do you say? Are you willing to give it a try?” Again with that toothy grin, one canine tooth overlapping its neighbor.
“That’s why we’re here,” Kirk said, clasping his hands. “Let’s get started.”
Phil lost his smile. “There’s a waiting area right outside those doors. The Wi-Fi password is posted on the bulletin board.”
Kirk said, “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m very protective of my wife, as I’m sure you can understand, considering she was attacked on our own property. I want to be part of her recovery, so if you don’t mind, I plan on staying right here.” He folded his arms.
“Of course,” Phil said. “Not a problem.”
Sarah had thought the first appointment might be more of an introductory session, but Phil didn’t hold back. He went right to work, putting her through her paces. He demonstrated exercises that looked easy enough, but when she finished repeating them, doing three reps of eight each, her limbs felt sore and rubbery. Every time she felt like saying she couldn’t do another one, Phil would push her and when she completed them he’d say, “There you go, Sarah, now you’re doing it.” He sounded genuinely excited, which made her want to do a little bit more.
From the side of the room, Kirk kept a watchful eye. When she noticed him frowning partway through the session, she winked, which made him smile.
By the time the hour was over, Sarah was drenched in perspiration. “Next time I’ll bring a towel of my own and a change of clothes,” she said, dabbing her face with a towel Phil had handed her.