Chapter 8 - TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS AN HOUR
Tessa returned to nursing school.
She complained constantly.
Anatomy.
Clinical rotations.
Sleep deprivation.
Terrible vending-machine coffee.
I loved every complaint.
Her sister, Rachel, received a kidney transplant after nearly two years on the waiting list.
The donor was anonymous and came through the standard transplant system.
Tessa called me crying.
I drove to the hospital.
She hugged me so hard I nearly tipped sideways.
“Careful.”
“Sorry.”
“I'm expensive.”
She laughed against my shoulder.
Rachel recovered.
Tessa graduated eighteen months later.
I sat beside Rachel at the ceremony.
When Tessa crossed the stage, I shouted louder than anyone.
She later accused me of behaving like a soccer parent.
I accepted the charge.
My own rehabilitation continued.
I regained limited voluntary movement in both legs.
With braces and parallel bars, I could stand.
With a walker and assistance, I could take several steps.
My doctors remained cautious.
So did I.
I no longer measured success in distance.
Some days, the wheelchair was freedom.
Some days, standing felt extraordinary.
Both could be true.
Then Tessa started working at a rehabilitation hospital.
Her first paycheck was framed.
I teased her.
She reminded me:
“You met me at twenty-five dollars an hour.”
“I remember.”
“You were horrible.”
“I was wounded.”
“You were horrible before the shooting too, according to Hector.”
Traitor.
One evening, I took Tessa back to my old bedroom.
The room where she had first told me Arya canceled therapy.
The support bar remained near the bed.
I had deliberately kept it.
Tessa touched it.
“Why is this still here?”
“Because I don't want to forget.”
“Forget what?”
“That this is where my life restarted.”
She looked at me.
“You mean where I washed your back?”
“Very romantic.”
“Extremely.”
I reached into the bedside drawer.
She immediately stepped backward.
“No.”
I froze.
“You haven't even seen it.”
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“If that's a ring, put it away.”
I stared.
She laughed.
“You look offended.”
“I had a speech.”
“You always have a speech.”
“It's excellent.”
“Save it.”
“For when?”
She kissed me.
“When you can ask because you're ready, not because you're grateful I stayed.”
Then she left me holding an engagement ring.
Again.
I stared at the door.
“Brutal woman.”
From the hallway:
May you like
“I heard that.”
Of course she did.
