Chapter 7

Two weeks later, Nicole was getting around on her crutches quite confidently. The pain in her pelvis was under control and she looked much better. Since the accident, we were very careful in bed. Most of the time, I just let her do what she wanted, but assisted her if she needed any help. She had limited mobility in her hips so we were forced to contrive new techniques. I was learning how to meet the requirements of her body, a body which had sustained 43 fractures. She was a great teacher. Sometimes, her joints would creak, announcing that I should be more careful. I these moments I started apologizing, but she just smiled shyly.

We began going out for dinner, and thanks to her crutches we were always able to find a seat. Nicole didn't want to be treated like a disabled, but nothing could prevent the unhealthy attention. Curious eyes were staring at her wherever we went.

That evening we had a nice dinner, then we decided to take a walk around downtown. Nicole was moving smoothly on her crutches, graciously swinging her legs. The heels of her pumps were clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk. I could see her calf muscles contracting and retracting under the black stockings.

"There will be a storm," she said.

I looked up at the star-freckled sky.

"I doubt it."

"I'm sure."

"How could you be sure?"

"My bones can predict the weather," she said and smiled.

"Do you feel pain right now?"

"I'm always in pain, Peter. Only the intensity is different."

"We can take a cab."

She nodded. I was fumbling for my cell, when she stopped and moaned. She bent her left knee, her heel popping out of her shoe.

"Nicole!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said anxiously.

"But what..."

"My knee locked up."

"What can we do?"

"We can't change the weather, right?" she said and managed a nervous smile.

She swayed on her crutches, so I moved closer to her.

"I will call a doctor," I said.

"No! Nothing can be done right now. Just take me home!"

I was informed that the cab will be here in 10 minutes. Meanwhile, Nicole was crutching toward a bench. Bent at the knee, her left leg seemed completely paralyzed. She was unable to put weight on it. Her shoe was dangling on her toes, and was about to slip off at any moment. Holding her hands, I helped her sit on the bench.

"Sorry for the inconveniences," she muttered and looked at me with sad eyes," It has been a wonderful evening..."

I kissed her temple, and sat beside her.

"What's wrong with your knee?"

"My joint is artificial. There is a lubrication problem, especially when the weather is bad. My knee is programmed to lock up if the problem persists. Further problems can be avoided that way."

The cab arrived just when the downpour started.