My Blossoming Redemption

EIGHT

I glance across as the door to his room opens, and Nicholas walks in. His eyes instantly meet mine before I look back at my husband.

Joel moans as he shifts his weight and stands up.

Is Nicholas working his angel magic?

No, Aspen, you're just being an idiot.

"Yes, Joel!" Henry cheers.

"Well done, Mr Watkins," Nicholas says with a smile. "I told you yesterday you could do it."

"Show off," Joel retorts.

"You're doing so well," I add. Joel looks at me for confirmation, and I give him a grin.

"I think that's one trip to New Zealand, right?" Joel jokes. Everyone in the room laughs.

"Right, let's do a little trip to the doors, okay?" Henry asks.

Joel nods, his confidence oozing now he's up.

Nothing prepares you for the sight of your twenty-year-old husband using an old person's Zimmer frame to steady his jelly legs. His perfect, young body ages years with just the frame attached to him.

I watch him do as Henry instructs him: the first few steps to get used to it.

And then he starts getting jittery. His legs shake a little, and he winces. It's like observing a tightrope – you know you want to continue watching but you also don't just in case that unease you're feeling is real.

"You got this Joel," I encourage.

"It's fucking happening again," Joel cries. I almost want to tell him off for swearing – but then I remember that I'm not my mother, and he's an adult. Just because I can't – or couldn't in her presence – swear, doesn't mean he can't.

"You're doing great," Henry says.

"I can't... my legs are too..." He stops moving, his hand shaking as it moves off the frame to grip his leg. He winces, and I jump into action. I move to his side and hold out my hand. "Don't touch me!"

"Joel, I'm trying to—"

"Go away!" He winces, and his free, trembling hand pushes me away.

"Joel."

"Come on, let's get you—"

"I want her out of here!" Joel bellows.

The room spins. How could he want his wife out? Why would he push me away?

"I'm going." I grab my bag from the floor and silently glide out of the room, letting the lakes of hurt stream down my face.

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"Aspen—"

I turn around. The kettle clicks at the same time as Nicholas walks into the relative's room. He looks flushed, those blonde curls ruffled a little where he's clearly rushed in here after me.

"What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be working and helping Joel?" I ask.

"Henry is in there with him. As I said to you a few days ago, it's not just about the patient," he offers. I gesture towards the kettle, and he nods. "Tea, milk with no sugar, thanks."