A new life?

20. Seeing Hamilton

Regina

Robin wakes me up earlier than usual to ask if I want to help him make breakfast. Of course I want to. I've told him several times in the last weeks. We end up making waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. They turned out to be very delicious. We finish cleaning up just in time before Tink arrives. Robin didn't help me to get dressed, because that's what Tink wants me to try in physical therapy today. Every day we include more everyday tasks into our sessions. I need to learn them in order to get my independence back and live without needing Robin's constant assistance. Once all my injuries have completely healed it'll be easier for me. We also did some more transfer exercises. Tink is very pleased with the progress I made and gave me permission to do transfers alone as long as someone is around in case I need help. The next step will be dressing independently and using the toilet. While I can transfer alone now I still need Robin to help me get dressed.

When Robin wakes me up from my nap I can already smell the gnocchi and Gorgonzola sauce he made for lunch. They taste just as good as they smell. When I ask him what we'll do this afternoon he says it's up to me as long as it's nothing too exhausting, because he has plans for tonight that require me to stay awake longer than usual. I ask what these plans are, but he becomes all secretive and refuses to tell me. I'll find out when the time comes is all he says. I can't do anything but wait. To pass the time I decide to take a relaxing bath and later watch a movie on Netflix with Robin. I always said we don't need Netflix. Daniel and I have been arguing about it for weeks and in the end I gave in. Now I have to say it's rather useful, because I don't need to change the DVD when I want to watch another movie.

It's four when the movie is over and time for me to get ready for whatever Robin has planned. Not knowing what we'll do makes it even harder to choose an outfit. In the end I go with a high waisted knee long pencil skirt and a long sleeved red blouse with lace details around the neck and along the selves. I apply some light makeup and my favorite red lipstick, which is kind of my trademark. I let my hair fall around my face in it's natural curls instead of straightening it. The outfit is completed with a pair of black boots and a black jacket with faux fur around the collar. Robin says it's perfect for what he has planned. He says I look "absolutely breathtaking". He doesn't look so bad himself in his light grey tuxedo and dark blue button down shirt. Before we leave the apartment Robin gets a blanket from the living room to cover my legs and keep them warm. Stubborn like I am I argue with him until he gives up. However I agree to a compromise, we take the blanket with us in case I'll need it when it's getting colder later in the evening.

We leave the Millennium Tower, which the apartment building on 101 West 67th Street is called, and walk down Broadway passing by Columbus Circle on our way. The streets are filled with tourists, who occasionally stop in the middle of the sidewalk to take a picture. For us New Yorkers it's just annoying that they block the way, but in some way I can understand them. The city is beautiful and the tourists usually stay only a few days so they feel obliged to capture every moment on a picture with their cameras to make it last. Unlike us they don't see the city every day. Now I consider them even more annoying than usual. When I try to push my wheelchair all by myself I constantly have to either sidestep them or stop so I don't hit them. That soon becomes too exhausting for me and I let Robin push me the rest of the way. When we turn right onto West 49th Street I'm pretty sure where we're going. I know I'm right when we approach Serafina's and he opens the door for me. It's an upscale Italian restaurant, which serves delicious food. A young waitress leads us to our in the back of the restaurant.

Robin really did his job with choosing the restaurant. He thought of everything so far and remembered that Italian is my favorite. Our table is perfect, secluded and away from prying eyes to give us some privacy and with only one chair. Like the perfect gentleman he is, Robin helps me out of my jacket before getting settled himself. The waitress lights the candle in the middle of the table and hands us the menu. A few minutes later she is back and we order our drinks. Normally I'd go with red wine, but with the medicine I'm still taking I can't have any alcohol and so I order a ginger ale and Robin a coke. We take our time to go through the menu and discuss our options.