Chapter 6

We ate on the couch, watching TV. Jill looked much calmer than an hour ago. She seemed to be lost in thought, but I could tell she was trying to hide it from me. She avoided looking at the cast, as if she wanted to ignore it, and to forget the accident. But the cast was there, huge and white, mercilessly immobilizing her entire left leg and hip, and rendering her vulnerable and dependent.

I carried the dishes to the kitchen and washed them. When I returned, I saw her trying to stand up. Balancing on her good leg and swaying precariously, she tucked the crutches under her arms. Her casted leg jutted out in front of her, looking grotesquely large compared to Jill's slender body.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Do I have to explain all my actions?" she said, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I thought you might need a hand."

"I have to pee," she said matter-of-factly, "and I don't need help with this".

I nodded, watching her unsteady movements. Her graceful gait was completely wiped out by the hip spica cast. She looked nice though, my little broken doll. So painfully fragile, and so mouthy.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Your graceful gait."

She stopped and slumped on the crutches to free her hands. Then, she wagged her forefinger at me which she accompanied with a broad smile. Her smile evaporated as she realized that the crutches were about to slip down. She managed to grasp them just in time to prevent the fall. I noticed I had jumped to my feet.

"Sorry," she said, looking at my face.

"Jill, please be cautious!"

"Ok."

She reached the bathroom door without breaking a bone. I ran to the door and open it for her.

"Thank you," she said with an unfamiliar seriousness.

A minute later, she flushed the water. I waited for her to come out. She didn't. Instead, I heard empty vessels rattling. Then, I could hear water pouring into the tube.

"Jill, you must protect the cast," I cried out.

"I am giving myself a sponge bath," she cried out.

"Do you need something?"

"Nooo," her voice echoed in the bathroom.

"Do you want me to rub your back? I said loudly.

I heard her saying, "I don't hear you."

Some time later, she called me.

"Bring me a t-shirt to change into." she said through the closed door, "A big one."

I went to the bedroom, opened her wardrobe and rummage through her clothes. Then, I choose a light blue t-shirt and got back to the bathroom. Her hand was groping blindly in the slot between the partially opened door and the door frame.

"George, how long I have to wait?" she said just before I handed her the t-shirt.

Five minutes later, she appeared, leaning on her crutches, and dressed only with a t-shirt and a cast.

"I'm so deadly tired," she mumbled, then slowly crutched past me.

"Are you going to bed?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Call me if you need something."

"By the way, we can both sleep in my bed tonight. This couch can be used only as a torturing device," she said mildly.

"Are you sure..."

"Oh, come on George! Don't be silly!" she said, and her casted toes curled up as if to convey some kind of emotion.

"You will need much more space than before."

"We can fit in."

"Ok."

She crutched toward the bedroom, her bare right foot squelching on the floor. I followed her.