Fear and, more fear

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It's not gonna come up. It's just... not.

I push Faith's wheelchair through the hallways of the hospital on our way to the rehab centre.

She's probably not even thinking about it even for a second. Faith's not the kind of person who likes to dwell on the past all that much. She's more of a deal and move forward kinda person. There's no way that it's gonna be bothering her at all. I just have to stop thinking about it and it will be over. Except that I can't stop thinking about it. The only way I'll be able to stop thinking about it is if I ask her if she's still thinking about it, and if I do that then if she has stopped thinking about it, she'll start again, and start wondering why I'm so curious about it. And if she hasn't stopped thinking about it, she'll just start wondering why I'm so curious about her thinking about it.

That would just open up a whole can of bad that I really don't want to have to deal with. Everything's fine. The woman I love is alive and well, which is the only thing that matters. Isn't it? That is the only thing that matters... I think. Of course, not thinking about it would be a lot easier if I could stop thinking about wanting to stop thinking about it. God, what's my damage? Now suddenly I'm thinking about thinking about wanting to stop thinking about it. Could someone just go ahead and hit me over the head with a two by four right now?

Nothing happens and we keep going down the hall together.

Please?

Again nothing happens.

There's never a tragedy around when you need one.

"Hey DK?"

Looking down at my girlfriend in the wheelchair, I see her looking back up at me as best she can.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

She's been asking that a lot all of the sudden. It's starting to bug the crap out of me.

"Of course, I'm... I'm fine."

"Yeah? Cause you know if you wanted to talk about something, I'm here for you."

"I know. But there's nothing to talk about. Everything's fine."

"Okay..."

We turn down one of the corners and reach the front of the rehab centre.

Oh look...

"Here we are."

Two orderlies open the doors from inside to let us through.

"Hello Ms Lehane, how are you feeling today?"

"Good, actually, so good that I'm not even sure that I need therapy to get back on my feet..."

Not this again.

"Faith, come on, you were in a coma for eight weeks. You need time to recuperate."

She scoffs at the idea.

"I didn't need any therapy after my last coma. I think I'll be fine."

Why does she have to be so difficult about this?

We stop near one of the first exercise areas. I move around so I can face her.

"That's cause you had eight months to let all your injuries heal. This time it's different, you've only been out for eight of the LONGEST weeks of my life. You need time to rest and recover. Just... let them do their job, Faith?"

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