Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I'm grateful for her but also annoyed. See, I'm a hypocrite. I consider lying in bed until I rot but I followed Anthony's rules yesterday. I made sure I was hydrated, gave my muscles what they need to repair, and now I have to piss.
Finding me dead in this bed would be bad enough, covered in piss is unacceptable. I grind my teeth as I sit up, allowing a little smile to cross my face when I realize that today was easier than yesterday. It's still a struggle. I still lean to the side.
My head still tells me that my leg is still there and that has caused me to almost fall more times than I can count. My new normal sucks. But I also know that accepting it and moving past it needs to happen sooner rather than later.
I attempt to hop to the bathroom without the use of my walker and almost fall again like I did yesterday. I situate the thing in front of me and take care of my business in the bathroom before heading toward the kitchen to find something to eat.
There's no struggle between mind and body. As far as the fuel type, I need it to not only help me heal but to provide the stamina I'll need for physical therapy.
I do notice, however, the lack of alcohol in the house. I don’t know if that’s not around because Slick hasn’t thought about it or she’s afraid it’ll impede my progress. Maybe she thinks I’m going to use that as a crutch. I’m going to get drunk and lost in my feelings. Maybe she thinks I’ll form an addiction to it. Maybe I’m overthinking things and she doesn’t give a shit about what I do.
Her behavior yesterday, leaving physical therapy, makes me lean more in that last direction when I go through the living room of the small house. Slick is on a yoga mat, having pushed the coffee table out of the way to make room for it. She’s in a position so impossible I have to tilt my head to get a better understanding of how she’s able to do that.
Sweat rolls down her back, disappearing into the waistband of her athletic leggings. Her movements are static. I’ve taken a few of the classes she’s held at the Cerberus clubhouse and I know how hard some of those poses are. I know I have no hope of doing them myself, even before my accident.
She’s hot, her sports bra barely capable of holding her magnificent tits in place. I lick at my lips, wishing it was her skin, before I catch myself and spin around as fast as a one-legged man connected to a walker can and head toward the kitchen. The last thing the woman needs is me perving on her from across the room.
Like she did last night for dinner, there's a plate of food waiting for me in the microwave. I scarf it down without worrying about reheating it. Cold food is nothing new for any Marine.
I wash my plate and place it in the dish drainer because I'm not a complete asshole. I'm grateful to have had breakfast rather than having to come in here and scrounge for something to eat myself. And the eggs, bacon, and toast she made are a hundred times better than the oatmeal I was figuring I was going to need to make for myself.
I plan to sneak past her, maybe get one more glance at her body, before heading back to my room but she's sitting in the middle of her yoga mat, as if she's waiting for me. I nod in her direction before turning toward the hallway.
“Where do you think you're going?” she asks, her tone even and flat. I turn back to face her but don't say a word. “If you're not going to go to counseling, then you can meditate.”
I tilt my head to the side, looking at her with an expression that I hope translates to you've lost your damn mind. She pats the mat beside her, not giving up on her insistence. I slowly cross the room, wondering if this is the moment I'm truly gonna go insane because I head in the direction she's urging me into, rather than going back to my bedroom.
I can't admit complete defeat so I take a seat on the couch rather than the spot beside her on the floor. I'm pretty certain I can get up from the couch by myself, but I know I would need her help or struggle for an hour to get up off the floor.
She frowns but doesn't say a word as I plop onto the sofa. I know going to counseling will increase the chances of being allowed back at Cerberus. I know her offering this meditation in exchange for it today doesn't mean it's going to be on the table every single time, but I'll take what I can get. Besides, this is putting in some form of effort. Also, I can fake meditating.