The 18th Floor

Chapter Twenty

"You can take him off your lap if you want to, I'm sure he'll fall back asleep in his bed", Lucien says breaking the silence of us working.

"It's fine honestly, I don't feel his weight on me", I reply back.

"You can feel him?", he asks instinctively and almost confused. I've never had this discussion with him or anyone in the office. I've never told them what happens but I'm sure Lucien might have been able to hazard a guess, but despite so, he's never brought it up.

"Yes and no", I begin. "Your spinal cord has different vertebrae. The higher the vertebrae, the more of your body it controls, for example the ones behind your shoulder blades control most of your body chest down." I explain and I can see him listening intently and nodding.

"I broke the ones lower down, somewhere between T11-12", I tell him. His face almost seems inflicted with pain and for some reason I can't bear to look at him. I look down to avoid eye contact and pat Atticus' head.

I feel my voice and confidence waver, but I keep going. "Each section of the spinal cord has its own name and each injury is different. With mine being at the bottom of my spine it meant that you'll have good control of your upper body but usually results in paraplegia from the injury level down, so around my waist, hips area." I'm not sure why I decided to go into so much detail about it with him, but I carry on as he lets me speak.

"I'm not sure how to even explain what I feel or don't feel but the closest thing I can describe it to is having constant pins and needles. But the level of feeling varies throughout my legs. For example, I am aware that something is pressing on my thighs right now but I can't feel the extent of it, just the pins and needles pain, but as you go below my knee to my foot there's no pins and needles and just nothingness?", I try to clarify as best as I can.

"Sometimes I'm not even aware I have a lower body and I know that sounds insane, but it's just not there. Like I know it's there, I had my whole life prior with them fine, but until I look at them, I don't actually know what's happening with them. Which sounds ridiculous but –"

"It doesn't sound ridiculous", he cuts me off. "It sounds pretty intense and you're strong for going through it."

My breath catches. I've heard it all before a hundred times. You're strong, you're so brave, you've been through so much. It was all I heard for several months after it all, and the one thing I did not want to hear. I didn't feel like any of those things. I felt useless, useless in my own broken body that wasn't even able to do everyday tasks without crumbling into a pool of tears. Over the years I've come to realise that I am those things, but I don't always feel it. I know I've been through a lot and it isn't easy, but to live up to the words is another constant battle. But for some reason, hearing those words come out of Lucien's makes me believe it, makes me believe in myself.

I nod at Lucien, not sure how to reply. His brown eyes laced with sincerity in the words he says. "There used to be a lot more numbness, but with rehab and physiotherapy it can improve", I tell him.

"To walk again?"

I look up at him. His face is probably the mirror to mine when I was told about physiotherapy, portrayal of the small glimmer of hope I had to walking again. I give him a small smile.

"I won't... I won't be able to walk again Lucien." I admit to him.

His face doesn't change, but he offers me a small nod in understanding. "It's been seven years. I use to have a lot more sessions, those initial ones helped a bit, but then it stopped. It's more to make sure my muscles don't atrophy, but also keep my body moving through different exercise routines. We try different things each weekend and just see what happens." I can see the clogs turning in his head, thinking of what to say.

"That's actually quite interesting, I never thought about that. Honestly, after you started working, I Googled spinal cord injuries but when I saw how much there was, I was a bit taken back", he admits. His honesty shocks.

"You researched me?", I laugh.

A small redness starts to creep up his neck, "well, it wasn't research, it was more, like-"

"Lucien, it's fine. Everyone's curious. I get it."

"Thank you," he says, "for sharing that with me. You didn't have to, but if you ever want to talk about anything, literally anything at all, you can to me. Or anyone else on the team."

My heart warms. "Thank you for listening. And for today", I say quietly. My eyes scan over his features, at the stubble that's been let out to grow, the t-shirt that is so different to his everyday attire, yet his arms fill out all the same. The real Lucien, in his own flat. The side of Lucien that I rarely get to see in the office and feel genuine with in these small moments of just us. It terrifies me.

He stands up as he says, "lunch time, do you want to order food?"

"Here I was thinking you would cook for me?", I joke.

"I can if you want", he says dead seriously. "Pasta?"

"You're not really going to cook, are you?", I ask.

"Well now that I've said pasta, I would like some pasta." I watch him walk over to the kitchen and start bringing out a pot to boil water, whilst also reaching for the pasta.

This man is cooking for me.

"Let me at least help", I say, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and trying to forget how much he has done for me today alone. I put Atticus down, almost forgetting he was on my lap and go next to him.

"Absolutely not."

"What? Why?"

"You're my guest. You shouldn't be cooking food."

I reach for the pasta sauce on his countertop, but he grabs it before I can, our fingertips slowly brushing past each other. He takes it from me and tells me to relax, I laugh him off but he tells me to go back to the desk and to wait for him. I roll my eyes and hear his laugh as I turn.

In the meantime, I check my phone. Dad doesn't need to know everything that happened today, but I tell him to text me when he's home as I forgot my keys. I also tell him that the building was closed before I even got there so he doesn't question how I got out, and that the whole team is working from another office space nearby. He doesn't need to know I'm at Lucien's house either.

So focused on my phone, I don't notice Lucien has placed a bowl in front of both of us and sat back down. "Kali oreksi" he smiles.

I look at him blank faced. "I need to teach you Greek urgently", he says, "it's the equivalent to bon appetite."

"I'll make a note", I say.

As we start eating, I feel his knees lightly against mine. He done it the first time he came over to mine, but I never told him I could feel some of it. A light feathery sensation. It was a comforting feeling, the same sensation I get when my dad strokes my hair. Whether he knows I can feel them after what I told him, he doesn't show, but continues to brush his knees lightly against mine.