I stared at the sudsy cloth in my hand and wanted to throw it against the goddamn glass, shouting that I needed to get out of this body that I was now trapped in. But that would only cause her to come running back into the bathroom, and I’d be envious that she could move that fast and freely, and then she would have to pick up the washcloth since I was unable to do it myself.

Instead, I washed my balls and anticipated her return, so I could get hosed down and be put back in my cage, like the fucking prisoner I’d become.

Eight

Whitney and I had just finished dinner, and while she cleaned up, I was reading The Boston Globe on my tablet, articles about the bombing still monopolizing the first several pages. No matter how hard I tried to take my mind off the incident and what it had left me with, I couldn’t. The bombing was everywhere I looked.

But it wasn’t on Whitney’s face as I glanced up from the screen, watching her walk in and take a seat on the chair next to me.

“How’s the pain tonight?”

“Steady.”

She’d worn her hair in a braid since my shower, the long tail hanging over her shoulder. She was playing with the ends when she asked, “Do you want to do some exercises before I leave for the night?”

Something had been weighing on me since she had agreed to take this job. Now that she’d seen one of my most vulnerable moments, the timing felt right to bring it up.

“I want to ask you something first.” I studied her face as I spoke, taking in each reaction. “In the note you left me in the hospital, you mentioned that I had saved you. What did you mean by that?”

She sighed. “Oh boy, we’re going in deep.”

“We don’t have to if it’s too much.”

She broke off one of the small flowers from the vase and held it up to her nose. “I suppose I wouldn’t have written those words if I wasn’t open to talking about them.” She twirled the short stem, staring at the white petals. “I had a brother, David, who was eighteen months younger than me. They called us Irish twins since we were born so close together. For a little while, we even had the same haircut, thanks to some gum I’d gotten in mine, so my mom had to cut off my long locks.”

When our eyes finally connected, hers were exploding with emotion, a look I hadn’t understood in the hospital but it was now so obvious.