Brave

Chapter 13: Awkwardness

Wait. What now?

I stare at him for several minutes, his unexpected news completely blindsiding me, no words forming in my mind or on my lips. Finally, I stutter, "Uh...oh...okay."

Why did he do that? I just wish he had told me or asked me...or something.

We start with some stretches and balance exercises. Then Ethan helps me to don a temporary prosthesis once again so I can practice walking, telling me that this one is very similar to the one that will be made for me.

He wheels me to the parallel bars and tells me to stand up. I study myself in the mirror at the end of the bars while Ethan attaches a gait belt around my waist. It seems kind of unnecessary because my balance and strength are so much better than when I first started out in the hospital, but I assume it's probably a liability thing and that he has to keep it on me or something. 

I start walking and I'm glad Ethan is behind me. I don't plan to fall, but I like to feel him close. But at the same time, I'm fighting feelings of irritation that he assigned himself as my physical therapist without even consulting me.

I find a good rhythm and begin to walk better than I thought I would be able to. I'm stronger than I thought I was. I'm proud of myself for getting the hang of it, but then Ethan makes some notes and has me try a few different things to try to make my gait more natural.

Suddenly, I feel very closed in. Not claustrophobic, but like Ethan is moving in on my territory. He visited almost every day in the hospital, brought me gifts, kissed me! And now this. It's like he's claiming me as his own, and I don't think I like it very much.

I find that his suggestions begin to irritate me more than they should. I was doing fine, wasn't I? Why should I have to change anything?

I try what he tells me and it makes my gait feel more awkward at first, but I can see how it will smooth out my walking in the long run. I don't want him to know he was right, but he is the professional here, for heaven's sake.

"How does that feel?" He asks when I get to the end of the bars.

"Fine," I mutter, and I can tell he's taken aback my response to him.

He has me do a few more things, including some work on climbing stairs, and then we finally finish up.

"Okay, Sarah." Ethan wraps up the session. "You did great. I'd like to see you three times a week until your new limb arrives. Then we may go up to five sessions a week. And here are some exercises I want you to do every day." He hands me a sheet with exercises illustrated on it.

It feels strange to have him speak to me so formally. Before we leave, I ask if I can speak to Ethan alone. My parents wait by the reception desk. He wheels me into his office.

"I was surprised by the news that you were a physical therapist, but now you're my therapist?" I say, venting a little of the pressure that had been building during our appointment. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

He doesn't answer right away. Finally, he says, "You never asked."

"It's kind of relevant, don't you think?" I demand.

He swallows hard and answers, "Of course. I guess I just wasn't sure how to tell you. I mean, Hey, I'm going to be your therapist kind of puts a damper on a friendship, and uh, a relationship."

My emotions are in turmoil. I believed that Ethan was sincere about kissing me and holding me the other night. But now I'm thoroughly confused. He's pushing too hard and I don't like it. And it seems odd to work with him as my therapist; the lines between personal and professional are crossed. I didn't even think they allowed that kind of thing.