Page 31 of Brain Damage

I’m not sure what to say to that. Very soon, I’ll be a married woman. I don’t have to fend off any advances by making up excuses, even if those excuses are completely valid. I don’t have to date anyone ever again, and that’s a great feeling.

“So.” Leroy nods in the direction of the building. “I’ll let you get to work then.”

I’m relieved the conversation didn’t turn sour, and I’m not going to give it a chance to happen. I hurry inside the building, closing the door behind me. It’s only when I get to the elevator that I turned around and realize that Leroy is still standing in front of the building.

22

AFTER

Today is my first day of Walking Group.

I’m very excited to be in Walking Group. So far, I haven’t gotten to do much walking. Mostly, I’ve been stuck in my wheelchair. We’ve done a little bit of standing, and taking a few very careful steps in my room. But that’s about it.

I’m assuming we’re going to do a lot of walking in Walking Group. After all, it’s called “Walking Group.”

Walking Group is held in a small gymnasium, which has large windows on either side that pour light into the room. There are four other people in Walking Group, and we gather together at ten in the morning, forming a semi-circle with our wheelchairs. The first thing I saw when an aide pushed me into the room was a set of parallel bars, like the kind I used to use when I took ballet class when I was a kid.

“Are we going to do ballet here?” I asked in surprise.

It’s not that I didn’t want to do ballet, but I just didn’t really see the point. If I can’t even walk yet, what good would it do for me to be able to plié?

A small woman in green scrubs with straight brown hair pulled into a ponytail smiled down at me. “We’re not going to do ballet,” she said. “Those bars are to help balance during walking.”

That made a lot more sense, I guess.

The woman with straight brown hair turns out to be named Natalie, and she is joined by a young man named Steve, who is also wearing green scrubs. They start together on the far right, helping us to walk one by one.

I recognize only two other people in the group. One is an older woman, part of the old person crew that populates the hallway. The other is that guy Jamie, the one who smeared cream cheese all over his face. I wasn’t sure if he would recognize me, but then after a minute of me sitting next to him, he says, “Hey, it’s Helmet Girl.”

So one thing I soon realized about Walking Group is that nobody in Walking Group walks very well. It’s sort of ironic. The first person, an elderly man, needs to use a walker, and even then, Natalie is mostly holding him up. The man keeps leaning more and more forward, until his top half and his bottom half have nearly formed a right angle. When that happens, Natalie yells for Steve to bring her his wheelchair, and they get him to sit back down again. His turn is over.

Jamie goes next. Natalie wheels him over to the parallel bars, and says to Steve, “I’m going to need your help with this one. He’s a lot of work.”

Unlike me, Jamie seems able to move his arms and legs pretty well. But that doesn’t help much when he tries to walk. He’s able to stand without a problem, but then when he tries to take a step, he’s all over the place. He lurches forward drunkenly then nearly falls to the side. He looks like he’s intoxicated, although he clearly isn’t. Natalie and Steve are both straining to keep him upright, even as he grabs onto the parallel bars with his right hand. He takes a few steps then they carefully lower him back into his wheelchair.

“Wow, that was terrible,” I comment.

Too late, I realize how mean of a thing to say that was. Sometimes I honestly don’t know what I’m about to say until the words are already out of my mouth.

Jamie whips his head around to glare at me. His ears are bright red. “Let’s see you do better.”

Natalie wheels me over to the parallel bars for my turn. I feel a twinge of excitement in my stomach.

“Do you need my help?” Steve asks Natalie.

Natalie looks at me thoughtfully. “She’s small,” she says. “I think we’ll probably be okay.”

Natalie guides my right hand to the parallel bars. I close my fist around the cold metal. She instructs me to stand up, so I try, but I immediately start pitching forward. Natalie catches me then helps me onto my feet.

“Steve!” Natalie gasps. “You have to help me!”

Steve rushes over, and between the two of them, they keep me upright. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing wrong. Natalie keeps telling me that I have to try to stand up straight, that I am leaning too much to the left, but I’m trying to stand up straight the best I can. When they tell me I’m completely straight, that’s when I feel like I’m going to fall over to the side.

It takes several minutes and all we manage to do is just stand up. I don’t even get to take a step. By the time Natalie and Steve lower me back down into my seat, I can see a line of sweat along Natalie’s forehead. It’s definitely a disappointing start to Walking Group.

“Oh my God,” Natalie says, shaking her head. “That was really hard. I don’t know if she’s ready to be in this group.”

Oh no, no, no! I don’t want to leave Walking Group! I don’t want to be stuck in my stupid wheelchair all the time! Please let me stay!