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.
I don't want him forcing his way into my life, no matter how much I like him. I suddenly feel less comfortable with Ethan than I ever have.
"Sarah, I know I saved your life and all," he says dramatically. "But I like spending time with you, too."
I just nod. "Fine," I say, making it clear that the conversation is over because I don't know what to say anymore, or how to say it. He pushes my wheelchair out to where my mom and dad are waiting.
After we arrive home, I take my standard nap. It's crazy how just walking tires me out so much. But I guess the confusion of the morning didn't help either. Once I'm rested, my mom brings me lunch. It's not long before I hear her yelling to me, "Sarah! Sam is here!"
Sure, Mom, I'll come running right out to meet her, I think, even though I know it wasn't really an invitation for me to come out and greet her.
It was a warning.
Sam comes barreling into my room. "Guess what?"
"What?" I ask, my eyes growing wide.
"I got pictures of my apartment in Philly! This is where all the interns stay." She hands her phone to me and I scroll through the pictures.
"Sam, this is fantastic!" I agree with her as I squeeze her, curly hair and all. "This place looks so sophisticated. Will you have a room-mate?"
"No, I'll be entirely on my own. It's an efficiency apartment, but it's close to downtown, so I'll get to see all kinds of places when I'm not working." She eyes me up, trying to read my face for some reaction. "It's only for the summer, remember! I'm coming back August 28," she reassures me. "But, hey, maybe you can come to visit me!"
I narrow my eyes at her, "Very funny. I can't even drive."
"I'm serious," she insists. "Quit thinking you're never going to be able to do anything again. Maybe Ethan can drive you."
I roll my eyes and tell her, "Ethan is my new physical therapist."
"What?" She shrieks dramatically.
"I don't know why he didn't tell me," I grumble. "I knew he was a physical therapist, and I knew he worked at his dad's clinic. I'm not sure why I didn't figure it out."
"Wow, Sarah!" Sam gets that mischievous look in her eye. "He's handsome. He's established, and I bet he makes a lot of money."
"And he kissed me...." I bite my lip as I brace myself for another shrieking session.
"He kissed you." It's not a question. It's just a statement that leaves her eyes open as wide as saucers.
"Yeah, Sam, and he's going to be my therapist. Now I just feel weird about everything. It's almost like he's working everything out so he can stay in my life, or keep me in his." I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry. "It was so great when he kissed me, but now I feel like he's pushing me too hard. Like he's grooming me for a relationship. And he was dishonest with me! He should have told me, don't you think?" I hope that Sam has a wise answer for me.
She finally catches on that I'm really upset. "First of all, has he ever lied to you about anything before?" She asks.
"How would I know if he lied about it?" I say sarcastically.
"Calm down," Sam tells me. "I'm trying to help you here."
I sigh deeply, flopping back onto my bed. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so confused and I feel so stupid."
"Why do you feel stupid?" She asks.
"Because I let him kiss me. It's like I'm just a stupid damsel in distress and I let him kiss me because he's my hero," I say, the sarcasm in my voice becoming thicker.
"Well, I know it's not exactly like that," she says, trying to bring me back down to rational thinking. "I know that you like him. So what is it that makes him attractive to you?"
"Well, he saved my life, so that's got to count for something, right?" I say weakly.
"Of course, but it can't be the foundation for a lasting relationship."
"I know. He's very sweet and thoughtful, oh, and funny. He's good-looking, for sure. We get along so well and I'm definitely attracted to him. Kissing him was pretty nice, but it's almost like he's planting himself in my life permanently. Oh, and the social worker at the hospital said it's common for victims to develop romantic feelings towards their rescuers."
"Well, that doesn't sound like you," Sam says, practically snorting with laughter.
"I know, right?" I laugh. "I'm too sensible to fall in love with him just because he saved my life."
"Of course you are. That shrink doesn't know what he's talking about!"
"The thing is, I really do like him. I think he's just moving too fast. I don't even know how I feel about myself yet. I lost my leg a month ago, and now my hero is falling in love with me. Besides, he's a Christian and I'm not, so I'll never be good enough for him. I should just draw the line and tell him that I can only be his client, not his girlfriend."
"Stop that nonsense!" Sam becomes very serious and furrows her brow. "You know you're still gorgeous, right? And smart. And funny. Like it's going to matter to a guy that you only have one leg."
"It might." I pout. "I'm just uncomfortable about everything now anyway. It seems like he's pushing too hard, sending me flowers and kissing me. Doesn't he get how confused I am? I just...ugh, I don't want that right now!"
"But part of you does," Sam says calmly.
"Maybe. But I want to be an active participant, not just have it forced on me, you know?"
"Then why don't you just tell him that?" Sam suggests kindly.
That's the reason she's been my best friend since forever.
I have therapy again two days later, and it's beyond awkward.
"Hey, Sarah," Ethan says, greeting me with his bright smile. He doesn't kiss me, and for that, I'm thankful.
We go through the motions of therapy, but I'm unusually quiet because I'm tired and emotional and so confused. I walk and walk and walk and walk. My body is obeying, but my heart isn't in it right now.
Ethan takes me by the hand at the end of the appointment. "You're a walking miracle, you know that?" He asks with a smile.
Something about that statement, that word, infuriates me, and it sets me off.
Miracle! Ha!
"Why do people keep telling me this is a miracle?!" I cry, yanking my hand out of his. "This is not a miracle! If God can do miracles, then tell me why he didn't save my right leg!"
"Sarah," Ethan replies calmly, trying to impart some of his calm to me, obviously.
"No! It's not a flipping miracle, so just stop saying that! I don't want to hear that any more!" I turn to stomp across the gym to my mom, who's standing there looking a bit dumbfounded. But I forget that I haven't quite perfected my stomping ability yet, so my body lurches forward and I fall flat on my face.
My mom rushes to me, and I feel Ethan's hands on my hips. I swat him away, yelling, "Don't help me!"
Ethan, whose voice is still calm, responds. "I'm not going to help you. You're going to do it by yourself. I'm going to talk you through it and keep my hands on your hips so you don't fall again."
He gives me instructions and I follow them easily so that I'm standing again in no time. "Good job," he tells me quietly. I ignore him and walk out of the gym, followed by my mother.
At my last therapy session for the week, I'm even more moody. I thought it would feel better to get out of the hospital and back to my normal life. But this is nothing like normal. It's a freak show and Ethan is the ringmaster, calling the shots on my life, which is now spiraling out of my control.
I do my exercises, feeling empty the whole time, like my life is slowly draining out of me. I don't react to Ethan's praise or any of his attempts at small talk. When the session is finally over, Ethan asks if we can talk privately, and I agree.
He leads me to his office, where he closes the door and sits down in a chair in front of me. His blue eyes are clouded with worry. "What's going on?"
"What do you want from me?" I demand, my eyebrows squashed into what I'm sure is a very ugly frown.
The look on his face is pretty much what I'd expect. Sheer bewilderment. Because I'm a tempest, a shrew, and probably borderline psychotic.
"I...I don't know what you're asking, Sarah."
"Why are you doing all this? Coming to the hospital, sending me flowers, kissing me!?"
"Well, I thought that part was obvious," he says, his face relaxing a bit. "I like you a lot Sarah. And I'm very attracted to you."
"Right," I scoff. "What's there to like? I'm practically a leper. I'll never be like anyone else. And I feel like this is just pity from you. But on the other hand, it's kind of creepy. It's like all of a sudden, you own me. I'm just your pathetic little girlfriend who can't do anything for herself so you took it upon yourself to plan my life out for me."
"Oh, my gosh, Sarah, where did all that come from?! None of that is true," he says. "If I had met you in a bar near campus, or at the mall, I would still have pursued you. Because you have something special and I want to get to know you better. You are something special."
I have to admit that his words soften my heart a little. But I still feel...cornered.
"I like you, too, Ethan. It just feels forced. Like you're suddenly involved in every part of my life and it's a little too close for comfort, you know? I'm just so confused. My life is suddenly vastly different than it was a few months ago. Trying to figure out where you fit in...it's just a little too much right now."
He nods, looking down at his shoes. He's not wearing the cowboy boots today. Then he looks back at me. "I can respect that. You've been through a lot. I'm not trying to force you into anything."
I sigh deeply. "I know. I just...I guess I just want you to back off for now, okay?" Even though I try to say it in the nicest way possible, I can tell he's hurt.
He swallows hard and gives me a curt nod before he wheels me out to the waiting room.
The following day, I receive a phone call from the receptionist at Broadwell. She wants to go over my schedule with me for next week. There are some date and time changes, and she wants to make sure they will work for me.
"Sure, those times should work," I tell her. "But why the changes?"
"Your new therapist needs to schedule at those new times."
"My new therapist?" I ask, my voice going cold.
"Yes, from now on you will be seeing Fern for physical therapy. Is that okay?"
"Yes," I utter in a hoarse voice.
I hang up, feeling numb. I know I'm the one who said he was being too pushy. I'm the one who said I needed space. I feel awful, knowing I've pushed away one of my strongest advocates. I wanted him to back off and he did. But instead of feeling relieved, I feel sick. Confused. Rejected.
Most of all, I feel alone again.
* * * * *
Do you think Sarah is overreacting? Or is Ethan coming on too strong?
Thank you for reading! <3