Absolution(41)

Releasing the brake on her chair, she turned abruptly and headed towards the pool.

“Hey!” he called, hurrying to catch up. “Hang on a minute.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she sniffed, glaring up at him as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “There’s no point.”

She pulled the towel off her legs and lay it down in front of her at the pool’s edge. He didn’t want the conversation to end like this, but he had nothing of value to add.

She carefully lowered herself onto the towel and lifted her legs into the pool, leaning forward and falling into the water. Bobbing to the surface a moment later, she began swimming the length of the pool, leaving him to stare after her.

Eventually, he slipped into the pool himself, sprinting a couple of laps to burn off the residual anxiety. He slowed eventually, keeping one eye on her, before finally giving up the pretense and pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the pool.

He smoothed his wet hair back and tried to catch his breath, watching her. Her stroke was smooth and graceful, powerfully pulling her body through the water. To the casual observer, she looked like any other swimmer.

But she wasn’t. She had a penchant for pushing herself beyond her physical limits when she was distracted, like she was tonight. Before long, he noticed her pace had slowed. As he weighed up how to intervene without copping another roasting, she finally swam towards him. The closer she got, the more evident it became. He slid back into the water and swam towards her slowly.

“I think I might need a hand,” she said.

Without further comment, he stood up, scooping her into his arms and carrying her through the water to the concrete steps at the far end of the pool. Climbing up the steps and out of the pool, the cool air pricked his skin, in stark contrast to the warm water.

She weighed next to nothing these days. There was no denying that she had lost a lot of weight since the accident, and putting it back on wasn’t as easy as it used to be, especially since she was using her braces most days now. She never commented on how her body had changed, or not being able to gain weight, but he could see it in her eyes every time he performed the range-of-motion exercises with her. That faraway look that told him she was trying to distance herself from everything. Self-preservation, he assumed.

He set her down gently in her chair, bending down to pick up her towel and hand it back to her. She took it without a word. She looked so vulnerable, sitting there, shivering. Knowing how much she would hate the observation, he immediately felt guilty. She had fought so long and so hard to regain her independence. She was strong and she was determined and she had a stubborn streak in her that had driven him to drink on several occasions. But she wasn’t invincible.

He pushed her over to the bench and sat down with a heavy sigh. Reaching over to snag his own towel from where it had landed earlier, he wiped his face and rubbed his hair dry. She sat facing him, staring at the empty bench, shivering.

“I know you thought you were helping,” she said finally. “But I really need to do this. I need to talk to him, I need to know, and I need you to back off for a while. Please?”

He continued to dry himself off, then stood up and wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking the end in to hold it in place. She wasn’t going to give up, he realised, watching as she rubbed at her legs half-heartedly. He wasn’t surprised.

He sat down again and reached over to turn her chair around and drag it backwards so she was in front of him. He started kneading her shoulders firmly, the muscles taut beneath his fingertips. After a few minutes, he eased off slightly. Her shoulders were shapely and toned, testament to the strength of her upper body. Also testament to the strength of her spirit.

“Okay,” he said, standing up and bending low to take hold of the handles of her chair. “If that’s what you want.”

She let him push her towards the changing rooms, something she rarely permitted.

“I do,” she said, the words coming out with a deep sigh, laced with both relief and fear.

An ache rose up in a wave from his gut, lodging in his throat. He was going to regret this, he could tell. He stopped beside the entry to the women’s changing room.

“I wish Tom were here,” she said quietly, taking control of her chair.

She propelled herself slowly into the changing room, her head bent as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.





CHAPTER 8




“Some choices we live not only once, but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.”