CHAPTER SEVEN
I sat on the mattress, my legs dangled over the edge, and waited for the physical therapist to show.
After being wheeled back from Dr. Allen’s yesterday, I had tried to walk to the bathroom. In the short distance from the chair to the toilet, my head became heavy and my vision blurred. Even though I’d leaned on the wall for support, my knees shook and I fell into the bathroom. All last night and this morning, when I wanted to go to the bathroom, my Mom insisted on helping me.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked. Mom stood by my bed.
She picked up the pad of paper we kept by the hospital bed. She wrote something, and handed it over. Work. He wants to be here, but can’t.
I nodded, acting like I understood. I mean I did. But I also wanted him with me. Dad built things in a factory. He u
