Brave

Chapter 11: Affection

Dad arrives late one evening, as I'm getting ready for bed. Sure enough, he carries another bouquet of mixed flowers.

"Hi, Baby Girl," he smiles as he pecks my cheek.

"Hi, Daddy. Thank you," I say, receiving the flowers from him.

"How are you?" he asks, his eyes widening with curiosity.

I fill him in on all the days since he's been gone – walking with the prosthetic leg, practicing with cane, walker, crutches, wheelchair, changing my own bandages, the progress of my left leg.

And Ethan. I tell my dad about Ethan.

"The boy who saved your life?" Dad asks.

"Well, he's not exactly a boy," I laugh. "He's 25, I think. But, yeah, that's him. He visits often and he's been to therapy with me a few times. He's a physical therapist, too, so he's a big help. He encourages me when I'm frustrated, which is often. And he sent me those flowers," I point to the vase on the windowsill. The Gerber daisies are just starting to wilt, but their color is as vibrant as ever. "Oh, and look, he and his sisters put together this little gift basket for me."

My dad looks amused at the fact that I'm getting so excited talking about Ethan.

"Sounds like I should meet this guy," Dad comments.

"Yeah, you might want to thank him for saving your daughter's life," I tease.

"That, and make sure he takes good care of you," he smiles.

"Oh, good grief, Dad, it's not like that. I'm sure he's just being nice."

"I'm sure he is," my dad says with a knowing smile.

I change the subject before he can tease me any more. "Mom said you had some big news."

"Yes! I wanted to tell you in person," he says excitedly. "I'm going to be working from home for a few months!"

I stare at him with my mouth agape. This is unprecedented. My dad has never been home for more than a week at a time. We vacationed with him in Europe for a few weeks when I was in junior high, but he's never actually been home for longer than seven days.

"How?"

"Well, I've been with the company for a long time now, so I do have some leverage. I told my team that I need to take some time off to take care of you and your mom, and they agreed, very easily, I must say. I guess that's one benefit of being their slave for so long," he concludes with a wink. It never would have occurred to me to think that Dad would cash in on his good reputation. But I feel very honored that he wants to be with me, to help me. "I am also entitled to some FMLA time. I will do some work from home, some from Bloomfield Hills, and I will simply take some time off."

"FMLA?" I ask.

"Family Medical Leave Act. It entitles family members to a leave of absence to care for sick family members, just like this."

"Oh, Daddy. I'm so glad you'll be here for a while. I've missed you." He leans in to me and I give him a giant squeeze.

Mom has begun her leave from work as well, even though my release from the hospital was delayed a bit. This means that both my mom and dad are able to accompany me to physical therapy. Patrick shows them a lot of different helpful things, like helping me in and out of the wheelchair, spotting me when I'm walking with the prosthesis, helping me up if I fall. Or, more likely, when I fall.

Mitch, the social worker, has met with my parents as well. Shortly after his first visit with me, he made a trip to our house to advise them about making things accessible for me. From what I hear, my parents are having a ramp built on the front of our house. They will be converting the main floor office to a bedroom for me, and they will be adding on to the bathroom so that I have a handicap-accessible shower. The renovations sound kind of interesting, but at the same time, it feels strange since I'm the one who is handicapped.