The last two weeks at the rehab facility were brutal; there's no other word for how rough it was. I had to learn to get around on crutches with a cast still on my left wrist while dragging around my right leg in a long cast, and a surgical boot on my right foot. Almost any pressure on the right foot was a new experience in pain, both in the foot and up the leg. And my missing toes hurt in a weird way, what's called "phantom pains". When they hurt, I'd try to reach with something to touch them, only to remember the toes were gone. And last, there was the unbelievable itching of my bones in my leg and the surgical scar under the cast. In some ways that was the worst of all.
Twice a day I had physical therapy, which at that point was mostly just learning to get around on the crutches so I could go home. I had to be able to get around the house, including going up and down the stairs, be able to get in and out of a car so my mother would be able to take me to doctors appointments and so on. I was able to do it, but only by stretching out across the back seat. Despite the pain of the therapy, I was highly motivated; I wanted to go home. Desperately.
Thankfully, I got it done. Two weeks after graduation, Friday morning, I was a bundle of nerves. I was awake by 6:30 and got myself dressed (with a little help from that cute redhead nurses aide, Carrie. Grace wouldn't need to know.). My dad took off from work and he and mom showed up at 11. "Ready to come home, Henry? Or would you like to stay another week?" he said with a smile.
"Thomas, do not even joke about such a thing!" mom chastised him. "Our sweet boy is coming home today!" She hugged me like I was a life preserver.
"Believe me, mom, there is no way I would have stayed here another day! I just want to get home, to be comfortable there, and to sleep in my own bed. I want to see both of you every day, see my friends and see Grace. I've missed everyone."
After a half hour of paperwork and saying some goodbyes to some very nice people I met there, staff and patients, dad wheeled me out to where the car was waiting. And there was a big surprise; Grace was waiting by the car!
I hugged her tight and said "Gracie, why didn't you come inside? I had no idea!"
"That was the plan. We wanted to surprise you!" She held me close and kissed my head as it rested against her breasts. She felt amazing, smelled delightful. And I'd be held by her all the way home. She had to get in back with me, and the way I had to sit across the seat meant I'd be resting my back on her body the whole two hour ride home.
I'm sure it wasn't the most comfortable thing for Grace to have my upper body weight on her the whole ride, but she never complained. She kept her arm around me, stroked my hair with her other hand, and we shared some small kisses every so often, with my parents right there. I could see my dad smiling at me in the rearview mirror.
"Henry" mom said, "Evelyn wanted to come, but there was no way she could fit with the way you have to sit. But she's so excited to have you home again. And Edina is making your favorite dinner, her pot roast with root vegetables and pop over rolls. And peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream for dessert. I told her you lost too much weight!"
"Oh god, I think I'm drooling!"
"Not on my shirt, you don't" Grace said with a warm, loving smile. I wished I could have turned so I could have held her. I did manage to give her breast a gentle, quick feel and she slapped my hand away, looking at me like I lost my mind. I kind of did. I gave her a naughty smile and she shook her head with a smile of her own.
When we pulled up at home, Evelyn came running down the stairs to the car and gave me a huge hug and kiss when I got out of the car, so huge she almost knocked me down. "My baby brother is home! It's so good to have you back!"
"It's great to be here, just don't put me back in the hospital, Ev!" We held each other and kissed cheeks. I always adored my sister.
Edina was next, coming down to the front and, after kissing Grace, she was the next to hug me. "Henry, your mother was right, you're too skinny! We've got to build you back up. You're going to need all your strength."
Everyone was making a big deal, except Grace. She just kept giving me loving looks and smiles, and I loved her all the more for her simple way about her. I used my crutches to hop up the steps to the front porch and then got into the house as everyone nervously watched me. Inside I made my way to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, breathing hard. It was tiring, but it felt so great to be there. To be home. I started crying and Grace sat next to me and held me to her shoulder. I had been having trouble since the accident keeping control of my emotions. A psychologist I spoke to a few times in the rehab center told me about a new term for what I was experiencing: PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. She told me it would be good for me to keep seeing a therapist when I got home in order to learn to deal with this problem. I said I'll think about it, dismissively.
I settled in and my family joined me. It was nice, but a bit uncomfortable, the way everyone hovered over me. Did I need a drink, was I hungry, did I need to use the bathroom (oh brother). Everyone but Grace, who just sat with me with her arm around my waist. I loved everyone for their concern, but I really loved the way she was treating me as she normally did. I needed to feel like I was back to normal. I got up, with a little difficulty and told everyone to just sit, I had to use the bathroom, and I asked my dad to come just in case I needed help. I could actually go by myself; what I needed was a word alone with him.
"Dad, this is all getting to be...just overwhelming. Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, son, what do you need?"
"Could you take everyone and leave Grace and I alone for a while. We need a little alone time. You understand, right dad? I mean, I know everyone will know what's up, but...you get it."
He looked at me, unsure for a minute, but he knew how things were. "Sure, Henry. We'll go pick up a few things from the store. I understand. Just try to remember, we're all so happy to have you home again."
"Thanks dad. I love you."
"I love you too, son. I can't wait until you and I can get on the golf course again."
I went to the bathroom and thought to myself, Golf. I hadn't even thought much about that in the last 2 months. And driving. How long would my right leg need to be able to be strong enough to drive a car? Damn, I was tearing up again. All these things I took for granted. Dancing. Playing pick up basketball. Damn.
I went back to the living room and my family went out to the stores, taking Edina, who asked Grace to keep her eye on the roast. , Dad said they'd be back before dinner, about two hours away. When they were gone, Grace could see my good mood had crashed.
"Henry, baby, what's the matter? You're home. And we're all alone. Talk to me."
"When I talked to my dad, he mentioned how he couldn't wait until we could play golf again. And it hit me, it could be a year before I'm strong enough for that. And things like dancing and driving and sports in general. All those things I'm not going to be doing for a long time. Some maybe never. Even making love to you is going to be difficult."
"Nonsense. Henry, it's going to take time, but your leg will get stronger, and you'll learn to walk and balance yourself again. You know, sometimes you don't appreciate what you have. You can be a real ass like that."
"Gracie, what do you mean by that?"
"I mean think if this all had happened to Gus, for example. No best rehab in the state. You're going to have a personal physical therapist coming here to help you when the cast comes off. No one in my neighborhood can afford that. Most couldn't even go to an outpatient facility. Your parents will replace your car when you're ready. You think most people I know can afford to do that if their insurance doesn't take care of it? You really need to get your head out of your ass." She looked at me with a touch of anger.
Damn. She was so right. Maybe I'd lose six months, maybe a year, of doing some of the things I loved. But I would get better, with a lot of help money can provide. So many people didn't have that advantage in life.
"Grace, honey. You're right. I don't always appreciate what I've got. It's just...I don't know. I feel like I keep losing my balance. Emotionally. The therapist I saw in the rehab told me I should keep seeing someone on the outside. She said I have something called PTSD. That I'd keep reliving the accident over and over, even though I can't remember it. I thought yeah, sure. I don't need that nonsense. But I'm not so sure. I feel like nothings right. First that cop, then this accident. I keep thinking what's next?" And I broke down in tears for the umpteenth time.
Grace held me as she did the night I was arrested. I don't know how long I cried. A long time it seemed. "Henry, you do need help. And I'm glad you see that. I've never heard of PTSD, whatever it stands for, but it sounds like you're suffering and you need some help. And if you're willing to get it, I'll stand by you and hold your hand and anything else you need. Especially your heart. I love holding that." She kissed me, a long and tender kiss. A tender kiss that turned into a loving kiss, which turned into a passionate kiss. Then another and another and another. I hadn't been thinking of wanting her sexually when I asked my dad for a little privacy but now that was changing. Her proximity and her love were bringing out the familiar desires.
We kept kissing and touching each other, my hands finding her breasts over her shirt and her hands on my chest under my shirt. She started to lift my shirt up my body and over my head before I thought of something. "Gracie, honey, I don't have any condoms."
"I've been on the pill for a month now, Baby. No more condoms" she said, kissing my face all over.
