A week later, Patrick was released as well. His body was strong. I was still in the wheelchair and would be for at least another ten days or so, before I could move on to crutches. Patrick wanted to carry me, but I wouldn’t let him. That and s*x were off the table, since he was not allowed any strenuous activity for at least ten days, himself.
Patrick’s word retrieval was coming along, but we still had to practice. Stir crazy partway through our first day alone together, still in bed at noon, we needed a distraction from wanting to tear each other’s clothes off, so I got out the flashcards.
“Cat.”
“Good.”
“Book.”
“Yup.”
“Shoot. Umm…you fly it.” He punched the mattress a few times, not hard, but enough to show his frustration. “It has a tail and a string. Damn it!”
“It’s okay. Close.
