Page 94 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

There's something reassuring about hearing that laugh. Not loud. Not forced. Just...easy.

She gestures toward the gym. "Ready?" She leads me past treatment tables and exercise stations toward the far end of the room where several workstations are set up to resemble parts of a home.

Kitchen counters. Cabinets. Shelving. A small laundry station.

I stop. "This is different."

She smiles. "It is."

"I thought we'd be measuring range of motion."

"We already know your shoulder is healing.Today I'm more interested in how you're living."

I glance around the room.

"So... this isn't therapy."

"It absolutely is."

She walks toward a waist-high cabinet and places a ceramic mug inside the upper door.

"Show me how you'd reach for your morning coffee."

I blink. "Seriously?"

"Very."

I step forward. Without thinking, I start to reach with my left hand.

Pain reminds me immediately. I stop. Switch hands. Reach again.

This time the mug comes out easily.

Annette watches without writing anything down. "Did you notice what happened?"

"I used the wrong arm."

"You've spent years moving without thinking." She smiles. "Now we teach your body to think again."

It sounds simple when she says it. It isn't. The next twenty minutes are filled with ordinary things.

Opening a cupboard.

Sliding a plate across a counter.

Pulling a sweatshirt over one shoulder.

None of it is difficult. Until it is.

By the time we finish, sweat dampens the back of my neck, my shoulder throbs, and my ribs burn every time I shift my weight.

Annette notices before I say anything. "Let's sit."

"I'm fine."

She gives me a look. "The chair wasn't a suggestion."

I smile despite myself as we settle into two chairs near the windows overlooking the snowy courtyard.