“Yes, I suppose,” said Jonas, a confused frown fixed on his face.
“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Just wait a few moments.”
Jonas watched over his shoulder until she left the room. When the door closed behind her, he turned back around and looked down at his feet. He had thought maybe he’d leave the office today having at least taken a few steps. He moved the walker forward an inch, then two, stepping in behind it, each step looking more like a limp. He didn’t have pain anymore—the prosthetist had fixed that—but it was like walking when your muscles were sore; there was still an ache.
“Jonas?” He heard a surprised voice from behind him.
He hadn’t heard the door open, and the voice made him jump, his heart picking up, blood thudding in his ears. He whirled around instinctively, forgetting about his prosthetic leg. He slipped, and reached to grab the walker but missed, falling ungracefully to the floor instead.
He sat there for a moment, eyes closed, his face pricking with heated embarrassment. First day of therapy—already made a fool of myself. What a precedent.
“I’m sorry for startling you. I just—I was just surprised to see you here.”
Jonas opened his eyes to see Brennan leaning over him and watching him with an expression of concern.
“B-Brennan!” He half scuttled backward, bumping into one of his crutches where it leaned against the parallel bars and knocking it to the ground with a loud clatter. His embarrassment mixed with frustration, churning in a potent mass deep in his chest. “What are you doing here?”
She hesitated, looking slightly hurt. Her eyes found his left ear again. “My aunt,” she said. “She’s a physical therapist. Well, the physical therapist here. Kim Richards? I was shadowing her today, but I was taking a break during your visit. She sent me to give you some pamphlets …” Her voice trailed off.
She frowned, looking down at the various materials in her hands. “About exercises for amputees?” Her eyes traveled to Jonas’s, the confused look still fixed on her face.
brennan
Jonas glared at her. His eyes were angry and his face was red. The bottom of Brennan’s stomach had dropped out, leaving the anxiety free to invade her entire chest. She shouldn’t have startled him, shouldn’t have even come in.
He reached up and grasped one of the parallel bars for support, pulling himself clumsily up until he was standing, ignoring her when she offered him her hand to help.
Brennan studied Jonas. He didn’t look like an amputee and hadn’t the other times she’d seen him. Her eyes darted to the sweatpants he was wearing. Then again, he’d always worn long pants—if he did have a prosthetic leg, she wouldn’t have known it. And it would make sense; it would explain what was off about him.
“Jonas?” she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. He had turned his back on her and didn’t seem to hear, so she cleared her throat, eliciting an angry “What?” from him.
“Are you, I mean, are you—” She was tripping over her words. She didn’t want to say it aloud because she got the feeling that this—finally, the explanation—was the reason he was so frustrated all the time.
Jonas whirled to face her, much better balanced now that he was back on the crutches. “Am I what?” he snapped. “An amputee?” He said it like he was disgusted by it.
Brennan didn’t even nod; she was too mortified that she’d created this situation in the first place. She took a step backward. Stupid, stupid, STUPID, her brain shouted, until the word rang in her ears like someone was actually shouting into the stillness of the therapy gym.
Jonas was directly in front of her now, glaring down at her. She hadn’t quite realized before how tall he really was. It made her want to shrink even more than she already had. “Yes,” he snapped. “Yes, I am.” He forced a short, bitter laugh. “Now you know my little secret.” He shook his head, looking annoyed. Brennan wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at her or at himself. Probably both.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said falteringly, as he turned to leave. “Did you think it would have mattered?” Her mind went to the car accident, and she realized suddenly. “And the fender bender—it wasn’t really because you weren’t paying attention, was it?”
“No,” he said darkly, over his shoulder. “It was partly because I wasn’t paying attention. But probably not for the reason that you think. And yes, partly, the leg thing. But don’t you get it? I didn’t want you to know that! I’m tired of the leg being the first thing people notice about me! I’m not just the guy with the missing leg!” Brennan stopped short as his face went slack, like he’d said a little bit more than he’d meant to.
His features hardened, his dark eyebrows drawing low over his eyes. He continued on his way out, and she followed him, trying to convince him not to leave, her words spilling out, one attached to the other in a long stream of blather that felt sort of useless (but she had to try anyway). “You still have to make your appointment for next week! I was supposed to show you to the front desk.” She was holding his walker and the pamphlets.
Jonas shook his head, continuing doggedly onward. “I’m not making an appointment for next week. I’ll go somewhere else—if I go at all. This has all been a terrible idea. It was a mistake.”
“Please.” Brennan was begging now, her voice wavering. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, which was stupid, because she was angry. Angry at herself. Angry at Jonas for giving up so easily. Angry at the fact that she was losing one of her aunt’s clients on the first day of shadowing. ANGRY, not sad, she yelled at her stupid brain. “My aunt is lovely,” she tried. “It’s all my fault. Don’t blame her. I’ll never be here again. If you come back, you can count on that—”
Jonas whirled around once more, causing Brennan to have no choice but to stop short or run face first into him. She tried not to be distracted by all the things she could notice when she was this close to him, like the little crease that formed on his forehead between his eyebrows when he was irritated (always) and how soft his dark hair looked up close. “Listen,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Your aunt is fine. But this—this walking thing—it’s clearly a mistake. I’m not going to embarrass myself again. So I’m not coming back. Okay?”
Brennan didn’t say anything; she didn’t trust herself to. She swallowed.
He turned around once more and called for the nurse going down to hold the elevator, before disappearing onto it.
The doors closed with a ding, leaving Brennan standing there, with the pamphlets and the walker in her hands and half the office occupants staring at her. At some point, she became aware of how she must look, watching the elevator like maybe if she watched hard enough, Jonas would step back out.
She snagged a nurse and managed to get out that her aunt’s last patient had left without his walker and pamphlets, shoving them clumsily into her hands and watching as the nurse headed off to the stairs to hopefully intercept Jonas.
Her face flushed even hotter as she muttered “Sorry” to the still-watching waiting room occupants and disappeared into the back offices, going immediately to the bathroom to hide from everyone. She closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, hugging her arms and staring at a crack in the tile flooring. She wasn’t ready to tell her aunt that she’d just lost one of her patients.