Unsuspecting Blessing.

xxii

Part Three: Trial.

Present Day

xxii

Worry plagues me with my Father. Is it worrying, or am I enjealoused? Both, I suppose. Watching the sunlight grace Julia's face makes me fraught with both. I worry, because my Father is a man who wrongs, and Julia is someone that is in need and easy enough to wrong. I am wealthy with jealousy because no matter if he wrongs or rights, my Father would not aid me in any shape or form even if I pleaded—or even if I were to be hit by a car.

Physical therapy has become easier since the start, just like all practiced things, and no longer feels like a violation of the flesh when I help Julia stretch her muscles and have to support her in, quite frankly, ungentlemanly places. The natural feeling that comes now with it may stem from the repetition of day in and day out like an occupation, but I know—and I am sure she knows too—that in truth the uncomfortableness of placing my hands on her has abated with the coming of our physical relationship development. The romantic aspect is difficult, but real romance is born out of grand friendship first; I fear we skipped that engagement sometimes, but now in a connection between us there is an amount of learning still to be done, with an equal part of known truths about one another.

I do not know if I love her. But I do know that supporting her has become so familiar and kind in my life that if it were to all end I would doubtlessly be brimmed with depression. I enjoy the daily things that come with taking care of someone, and what I get in return is more than enough to make me not consider backing down—it is almost as great as the rewarding smile on her face and sight of progression mentally and physically in her journey of recovery.

I love the bond between us; love is one of the only words that occupies both sides of the coin. It is the birth of pure ecstasy when true love is introduced into one's life, but just as uniformly it is the death of peace. With love comes care of another and that brings happiness to be more than simply yourself, but it also brings unique anxiety that is specific to the relationship of the one's loving. Love is the death of experience and birth of normalcy in one's life, giving heed to no excitement and leaving only expectancy, most would say, but I see infinite potential within the love that brings the tension between us. But the butterflies given in my chest, and an infesting concoction of anxiety, makes me dwell on happiness with the fear of abandonment. I do not wish for you to leave, Julia. But I pray for your downfall with my Father, because I cannot bear the broken balance between my Father and I. True love is aiding in one's success despite your position regarding their failure. You deserve the help, and I do not want him to wrong you like he has wronged me.