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Can’t Hear You
Matt lay back at an incline, torso locked in the TLSO. His right leg rested on a foam wedge, the fixation frame an outline of damage.
A creak. He glanced toward the sound, then turned away.
Footsteps. Ben. A rustle of paper.
“Hey,” he said. “Figured I’d stop by. Brought lunch. Pastrami on rye. Thought you might want some real food for a change.”
“Thanks.”
The tray clattered. A chair scraped forward. “How’s PT been?”
“Transfers are… easier. That’s what they said, anyway.”
“That’s good. Means you’re getting stronger.”
He stayed fixed on the ceiling.
“I, uh, talked to Wood and Jackson the other day. They were asking about you.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“That you’re hanging in there. Taking it one step at a time.”
A laugh slipped out, dry and fast. “Yeah,” he muttered. “One step at a time.”
“Figuratively speaking, of course,” Ben said.
“You don’t have to dodge it, you know.”
“Dodge what?”
“This.” Matt gestured at his legs, right hand barely cooperating. “The fact that I’m… like this. You don’t have to act like it’s temporary.”
There was a pause.
“I’m not. I’m just trying to—”
“To what? To make this easier? For who? Me or you?”
Ben hesitated.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He looked down, done trying.
“You don’t have to be here,” he said. “If it’s too much.”
“Matt, that’s not—”
“Just go. You’ve got your own life. Don’t feel like you have to check in.”
He lingered. “I’ll be back.”
Matt didn’t react.
Chair. Steps. The door. Then it was only him again.
He wasn’t angry. Just tired of holding it together for everyone, even now, especially him.
Taking things one step at a time. What a joke.
The brace pressed into his ribs. His legs weren’t there. Not to him. Nothing was.
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