“Anger can be a good motivator sometimes.” Shane started packing up his tablet and his notepad and paper. “Sometimes anger is a really good thing. And, in this case, if it got you back on track, I’m all for it.”
“Maybe,” Ryatt noted, “but it’s also hard because it reminds me that, no matter what she did, it still didn’t work.”
“You are wrong there. It did work. It worked well. For a time. Then a misalignment sent her body downhill and back here again, where we can address her alignment and set her to rights and get her back out of here again. Don’t twist the facts. What I’m more interested in with you is how you managed to turn around after your sister’s admittance here this second time and how you looked after your headspace when it happened to her. I still don’t get that. As a PT, I’d like to know what worked for you. Maybe it would work for my other patients.”
Ryatt took a deep breath. “It suddenly occurred to me that she might need more from me, more than ever before. And, while I’m sitting here and wallowing, she’d been looking after me, and now she might need me to look after her.” He frowned, facing Shane. “I didn’t explain that very well, but…”
Yet Shane studied Ryatt, a smile on his face. “I think you did pretty well with that,” Shane commented. “The good news is that hopefully your sister’s current issues are not as bad as you may be worried about. Plus, with Stan now potentially in her life for the long-term, any worries she has will be shared.”
“Is that a good thing,” Ryatt asked, “to share your worry?”
“I would say so. I see it with my patients. The ones with supportive partners seem to fare better overall than the ones going it alone, unless you have a really determined young lady, like Quinton, during her first stay here. Stan’s influence on her health and well-being should amplify her healing here, as he is a good person, intent on serving others.” Shane looked over at Ryatt, waiting for a response.
“I know he is,” Ryatt admitted. “Believe me. I do know that. I’ve seen him around. He brings the animals in every once in a while. Occasionally I tell him that I’m really not in the mood, and he just smiles and carries on.”
“And at least you can share that with him,” Shane noted. “However, it’s interesting that you’re not in the mood for an animal that has only love to give.”
“But when you don’t believe you deserve any love,” he replied, “it doesn’t matter how much love they have to give. You still don’t think you should be the one to get it.”
Shane stared at him for a long moment. “And that is a whole different ball of wax.”
Ryatt winced. “Thankfully it’s not your problem. That’ll be something I have to talk about with our lovely shrinks on staff.” He gave Shane an eye roll.
“Maybe,” Shane replied, “butareyou talking to them?”
Ryatt flushed and glared at Shane. “I suppose now you’ll tattle on me, huh?”
“No, not necessarily,” he murmured, “but you might want to think about it.”
“Think about what?” he asked.
“Think about talking to them about it,” Shane stated. “An awful lot going on in that head of yours could use some straightening out. Giving your stump time to heal and getting a properly fitted prosthetic would help too.” And, with that, Shane was gone.
As Ryatt slowly crutched his way back to his room—hating the crutches, yet acknowledging they kept him more independent—he admitted, at least to himself, how hard it was to accept help or lovebecausehe was depressed and fed up.… Sometimes it seemed like all this rehab was useless. His sister’s return seemed to prove that—at least originally.
When he got to his room, however, he found a note on the door.Call me. Then he realized who it was from. He smiled, made his way over to his bed, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Lana’s number. When she answered a few minutes later, her voice was distracted. “Hey, it’s Ryatt.” There was a momentwhere he could almost think that she had blanked out on his name.
“Oh,Ryatt.” And then she sighed. “Ryatt, here at Hathaway. I deal with outside vendors too, so I couldn’t even begin to place your name for a moment there,” she explained. “It’s been such a crazy day.”
“Not a problem,” he replied, slightly disappointed that she had no instant recognition of him by name. But then why would there be? It’s not as if he’d gone out of his way to be memorable in any good fashion. “I just wondered if you had any licorice for me?”
“I’m coming down your way. I’ll pop in.” With that, she hung up.
He frowned and shrugged. “Whatever.” If she needed to come, then that was fine. Almost instantly he pulled off his T-shirt and shifted onto the bed, groaning at the pain in his thighs after his workout session with Shane. When Ryatt looked up, she stood there, chewing on her bottom lip. He waved his hand. “Hey. Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she asked.
He frowned. “I just… I don’t normally show pain like that.”
“Maybe you should,” she suggested. “It makes you a little more relatable.”
He gave a brief nod, then looked at her hands. “What’s that?”
“Well, you mentioned licorice.” She opened the bag. “I found three different kinds, the soft Australian stuff, the regular”—and she held up a longer package—“and then these are the English type.” She shook her head. “I honestly wasn’t sure what you would like, so I bought one of all three. Just don’t eat too much at once.”
He laughed. “You know something? I’m not sure which I like either, so I’m happy to have an assortment to try.”
“Good.” She walked over and placed them on the night table.