Her love

Chapter 20

(Hi y'all, I'm more comfortable using abbreviations but for those who don't know what these abbreviations are I will be putting them below.

PT is physical therapy(therapist)
OT is occupational therapy
SLT is speech and language therapy.
PA is physician assistant

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"I have a son...he's 28 and single..." I smile.

"Mrs. Howard, I have a boyfriend." I tell the older black woman.

She laughs, "He's coming to pick me up today."

This lady was relentless and I loved her for it. We'd grown close in the past 3 weeks when I was her PT every Monday and Thursday. I was always happy getting to see her, she was southern hospitality embodied. Or what I imagined it to be. She was sweet but critical and had no qualms about expressing when I worked her too hard.

"Is he now?" I raise a suspecting eyebrow smiling.

"Yes, Everytime he picks me up, you're not here. Did I mention he's a lawyer." She slips in. She had been obsessed with us meeting since learning I was Ugandan like her son who'd grown up there for half his life before his adoption.

I crack another smile and look over at the OT and we share a smile. "Yes, I think you did. Wednesday are my continuing education days."

Different hospitals have different requirements for their therapists to continue growing in their knowledge of their respective fields. I chose Wednesdays as opposed to a week off every 2 months, to go to lectures at different universities our hospital is affiliated with, but everyone's does it differently.

"Well, he'll be here today. He's a handsome young man." I finish looking at her chart and help her up from the mat.

"After seeing you, I have no doubt." I gently guide her to Anna her OT.

I smile, "She's all yours girl."

"Thanks, Kat. How are feeling these days?" She asks taking over guiding our patient.

"Better, you know. Just have a limited range of motion." I smile.

"Don't we all." Mrs. Howard chimes in, making us laugh.

It's been two months since my hospitalization and I'm took 2 weeks off of work just to recover. I was definitely feeling better but anytime I moved the wrong way I got a reminder.

I was still living at Santi's please we never really discussed what would come next we just fell into this routine. Waking up leisurely together, though I am usually staring at his sleeping face before he wakes, which he always takes as invitation everytime he catches me. I smile remembering that I've never been much of a morning person before I started living with him I guess this what being taken care of feels like.

Sometimes he's up before me though and everytime I open my eyes I see, his face swept in longing sadness and apprehension. Sometimes I catch that same look, after we have sex and are silently holding each as our breathes slow down to a normal tempo. Everytime unease settles in my stomach, we hadn't really talked about us since the hospital and honestly I didn't mind. Just anticipating the conversation scared me.

What hurt me was that in the past few weeks Santi hasn't said he loves me.

It shouldn't hurt, but he'd made me so used to hearing some from of the words from his lips everyday-

"Mi amor,"

"Amor,"

"Cariño,"

"Mi vida!"