At the end of the week I told Andy I could handle things on my own and he should get back to his clients. He had a pile of messages and I didn’t want his practice to suffer. He was reluctant, but finally gave in.
Thursday after he left I sat in the big chair in the living room with Jake and Annie by my side. Brad was at school. I was healing well, I thought. I needed less and less pain medication and was able to do most everything for myself, as long as I didn’t stray outside the rules for lifting or bending. But the depression I was feeling could no longer be pushed under the rug. Andy and I were still not supposed to have s*x but I had expected being with him would result in some physical s****l response on my part. It hadn’t happened. I was impotent.
“s**t,” I said out loud.
The do
