Ride

Chapter Twenty Four

You may not like it, but I've made the decision to out the boring and attempt to continue when I'm not crippled. Or, as crippled as I was, anyway.

You'd think the day I got my casts off would be an amazing experience for me.

I wheeled into the room with Chris still hobbling on crutches next to me. He grinned down at me and sat down, waiting for the nurse to get here.

"You're going first." I reminded him, twiddling my thumbs nervously.

"I know." He snorted. "Just to prove my point that you're too scared."

"Actually-" I began, but the nurse walked in. She started setting up a drill in the far corner and I could almost taste the blood that would be drawn with it. Okay, so I am slightly afraid.

"Who's going first?" She asked nasally, staring at me expectantly.

"I am." Chris answered, rising to his feet.

"Okay, hon, set your leg up here please." She ordered, helping him to get his leg on the metal table. I wasn't fond of the 'hon' part, and I don't care that it showed. How am I supposed to get up there? I've got two casts, he only has one.

The nurse lowered the blade to the blue of his binding and gently pushed into it. The circular slicer made a screeching noise upon contact, spitting up Columbia colored dust in its wake. She drug it down the whole length of his leg twice, until finally the only layer left was cotton. Chris rolled down his pant leg and shrugged at me.

"Easy peasy, lemon squeezy." He joked, helping me up. Before I could react, he was tossing me on the table and keeping me stable by supporting my back.

The nurse wasted no time hacking off my left cast. I flinched as the tiny saw spat out dust into my face. Ripping apart the cotton, she revealed a wrinkly, pasty, hairy leg that not only needed a shave, badly, but also made it look like too much moisturizer had been used on it. As a bonus, it smelled like wet dog.

The same process occurred on my right leg, only I wasn't so intimidated by the little saw. How had she managed to avoid any tearing of skin? With how hard she was pressing, I could have sworn she'd break the cast and gut me with the sharp tool.

With a small nod, the nurse left. Chris helped me to my feet, but my legs were so weak I couldn't stand. Chris even found himself favoring his strong foot. Maybe it would have been a better idea to come with an extra set of hands.

Luckily, the nurse returned with leg braces for me and some crutches, just like Chris's. I guess it would be a while yet before I was fully healed.

The crutches weren't as easy to use as one might think, and Chris had to teach me how as we limped out of the doctor's office. He had to hold the business card of the physical therapist while doing so, which may or may not have made the task more difficult.

I could see right through him as he got behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"This isn't really going to help me, is it?" I asked annoyedly, putting all my weight on him. He took it without complaint. Geez, he's strong.

"Nope." He replied, laughing. The cooler temperature of August really chilled my legs, I found, since they hadn't been in open air for so long.

We'd waited a bit longer than normal to remove our casts, per my dad's suggestion. Though I did want to make sure they were fully healed, I didn't appreciate being useless for a whole extra week.

Chris's sexy pickup was waiting for us in the place where he parked. He opened the door for me and helped me get in, though I really didn't need it. As long as he feels important, it's alright with me.