Chapter 11

Ipulled into the parking lot, the familiar brick facade of the physiotherapist"s office looming ahead. Stepping out of the car, I let the warm breeze from the beach on the other side of A1A ruffle through my jacket as I walked briskly toward the entrance. The glass door swooshed open, and the faint yet by now very familiar smell of antiseptic mingled with sweat greeted me.

"Hey," Dan called out from across the room, a clipboard in his hand. His eyes were serious, and his brows were creased with concern. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"Sure," I replied, following him down a narrow hallway to a vacant consultation room. The sounds of exertion and the clank of workout equipment dulled to a murmur. I felt like I was being called to the principal's office, and my kid had misbehaved.

Through the half-open blinds, I caught a glimpse of Matt, idle in his wheelchair, absorbed in something on his phone. Dan closed the door and leaned against it, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know what to do," he confessed, the frustration evident in his furrowed forehead.

"Matt is giving up."

"How do I help him?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping for some kind of revelation.

Dan sighed, the sound heavy with helplessness. "He lacks the motivation to do the work."

"Is there anything that might give him that?" I pressed, thinking aloud. "His children? The prospect of him being able to play with them in the backyard again?"

I exhaled sharply, feeling the enormity of the situation press down on me. "I have tried," I said, the words tasting like defeat.

Dan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back toward the window. "He has the prosthetic fitting coming up, and he's not even close to where he is supposed to be at this point. I fear he is giving up. Hope is his best bet right now, and he needs it."

A sigh followed by silence. I felt helpless.

"Maybe you could work on him this weekend?" Dan suggested tentatively. Could you try to get his motivation up a little before he comes back here on Monday?"

"I will try," I promised, though the assurance sounded hollow even to my own ears. "I will try my best."

With a nod to Dan, I left the quiet room and approached Matt. I mustered a smile that felt painted on and said, "Hi."

He barely looked up, his response flat and disinterested. "What took you so long?"

"I was working. Remember how I told you about what happened to Sarah Chapman? My friend from the support group?" I ventured, trying to pierce the bubble of his isolation with a tether to the outside world.

"I"m really not interested," he cut me off, his voice curt. "Can we just go home?"

The dismissal stung, a stark reminder of the abyss that had opened up between us. We left the facility in silence, my footsteps echoing my internal turmoil. Helpless and frustrated, I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed; he seemed to slip further away with each rotation of the wheels on his chair.