The Physical State of Love; a Daryl's Story

Chapter One: How did I get here

Cassandra's POV

‘What is that God awful noise in my head?’ I was finally getting some much needed sleep and my stupid alarm was going off already.  I'm so exhausted; not just physically, but mentally. I've spent so many hours working, trying to do everything I could possibly do to help him and I was starting to doubt if I should even be here.  “Okay, okay, I'm up” I say out loud and reach over to pick up my phone to silence the alarm. I rub my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness that's still outside, as it's only 5:30 in the morning. Must maintain a strict routine if I'm ever going to really help him. Up at 5:30, change into running clothes and do my daily route around the neighborhood, back by 6:30, shower, breakfast at 7, clean up what's necessary, and back to work by 8am.  It helps that I happen to sleep where I work, but I never thought I would ever be back here again.

“Good morning Miguel” I say as I return to the house after my run. “Will you be joining me for breakfast this time?” “Yes Cass, I'll join you. I will be working out of the house today.”  I nod as I head up the stairs and down the hallway to my room. My room! It still seems strange calling it that, after all I've been staying here for the past two months. Does Daryl even realize I'm here?  Would he be happy about it? I've asked myself these questions and so many more, since I agreed to Matt's request to help. It was an instinctive reaction after hearing the news. I knew I couldn't stay away and I wouldn't feel comfortable having someone else care for him.  

I was living my life in Chicago for the past two years as a physical therapist.  I joined another practice to build up my clients and maintain my skills. I was so used to private practice, working diligently with one client, but I needed a change since my last job.  I got too attached. Not to the patient of course but to my employer, his brother. I just couldn't stay in New York after that, not until my phone rang that fateful day with Matt telling me that Daryl needed me.  My stupid heart couldn't say no. So here I am in the shower, in Daryl's house, trying to wash away all my anxieties and fears.  ‘God, I hope I'm doing the right thing.’

I dress in my usual, black yoga pants and black polo shirt and head downstairs to get breakfast started.  “So what do you feel like today,” I ask Miguel. “How about your famous omelette and some coffee?” I answer back, “You got it,” and busy myself in the kitchen, pulling eggs, milk, spinach, tomatoes, and goat cheese out of the fridge.  On second thought I grab some bacon and jalapeno peppers too. Miguel isn't one to shy away from the spicy and I love him for it. I start the coffee and grab two mugs from the cupboard. I put six strips on bacon in the pan and get them nice and crispy before transferring them onto a drip tray.  I whisk the eggs and milk to a nice fluffy texture and pour into a separate pan. I cut up the tomatoes and pepper but shred the spinach with my fingers. I add the vegetables to the eggs with a little salt. Once it started to set, I flip the eggs and added the spinach and goat cheese to one side before flowing over the other half.  I plate the eggs, added the bacon and poured Miguel and I each a cup of coffee, as he walks into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island. I sit with him and we eat together mostly in silence. There isn't really much to say these days as we had already caught up a few weeks ago on my life in Chicago and how things were going here.  He stopped asking me how the treatment was going after the last time when I broke down crying cause I couldn't take seeing Daryl like this. So we refrain from talking about it as long as I promised to share if any breakthroughs occurred.

Mrs. Gibson, Daryl's housekeeper, came in from the guest house on the other end of the property at 7:45 and began cleaning up the kitchen for me as I went back up to my room.  ‘There it is again, my room,’ I thought to myself.  I hadn't been my room since two years ago when I was last here and that was on Daryl's request back then.  I breathe a heavy sigh and tell myself now isn't the time to dwell on the past and proceed to brush my hair up into a messy bun before brushing my teeth in the bathroom.  I stared at my reflection in the mirror and repeated out loud the words I have said to myself every day for the past two months, “He is just a patient, nothing more. You can do this. You have to.  He needs you so stay focus.” Another heavy sigh as I mentally berate myself for not fully believing what I said.

I leave my room and walk down the hallway, down the stairs, through the living room, and down another hallway to a large room that had been redesigned to be part hospital and part recovery room with a little physical therapy equipment available.  I pull back the curtains to let the morning come into the room. I walk over to the stereo and start the usually playlist. I gather all that I plan to use today for maintaining muscle density in his legs and proceed to walk over to his bed removing the sheets.  As per usual, I avoid looking at his face because it became too painful to see him like them. Daryl, the epitome of strength and beauty looked so vulnerable and weak that it nearly broke my heart the first few days I was here. It wasn't like how he looks peaceful and angelic when he slept.  This was different and I couldn't bear it to look at him anymore without those beautiful eyes looking back at me. I begin by first examining the look and feel of his legs, checking their flexibility and mass. Daryl was never bulky but he did have very sexy strong tone legs and I am determined that he didn't lose that part of himself.  I add some weights to his ankles and began manipulating his legs, bending his knees and doing some stretches. I continue working his legs for 20 minutes each. I attach the pads and wires of the transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation (TENS) unit and turn on the machine for 30 minutes adding heated pads over his legs.

I left the room briefly to get myself some water and to grab my phone from upstairs.  I notice I had a missed call from my brother, David, and a text from Matt. I find it strange my brother would call me so early in the morning especially since he is supposed to be stationed overseas in Japan as a marine. Could something be wrong?  I call him back before reading Matt's text as I walk back into Daryl's room. He answers on the second ring, “Hey Cassidy, little tank, how are ya?” “Jeez Dave, stop calling me little tank. I'm 26 and I haven't been little tank in years.” “Okay okay, sorry, but how are you? Where are you? I've been wanting to talk to you?” My brother, my older brother by six years, has always looked out for me especially after dad left and mom got sick.  I'm not liking the urgency I hear in his voice so I ignore his line of inquiry and ask him a question of my own. “David, is everything okay on your end?” I asked almost at a whisper. I really can't take anymore bad news in my life right now and I really need my hero brother to be fine. He chuckles at my words and says he's fine and was only calling because he heard I wasn't in Chicago anymore and was worried about me. He said mom called him and told him some information about my move back to New York but not the full details.  A small smile appears on my face at his concern and I am quick to reassure him that I'm fine. While talking to him, the timer on the machine goes off and I go over to remove the equipment off of Daryl and cover his legs back with the sheets. I turn down the stereo, changing the playlist to something more neutral, and exit the room still talking to David. It's 9:30 and Jessica should be here soon to take care of Daryl as his nurse. She'll check his IVs, his catheter, and his vitals, adjusting his medications as needed. I usually take that time to prepare for lunch or catch up on emails.  But today, I guess I'll talk to me brother. We talk about various things and we end the call with him inviting himself for a visit in a few weeks as he had vacation coming up.

I sit on the couch in the living room and I hear Miguel let Jessica in to take care of Daryl.  I take that moment to read Matt's text from earlier. “Morning Angel, remember to take care of yourself today too.  I'll stop be after work to check on things. Kisses.” Another smile appears on my face as I think of our friendship and the journey we took to get to this point in our relationship.  I met Matt a few years ago at a very difficult time in his life. I laugh to myself as I remember our debates on how long we've known each other as I truly made his acquaintance while he was still unconscious.  Matt was in the hospital after his motorcycle accident that killed his then girlfriend and almost left him paralyzed from the waist down. Daryl had hired me to work with Matt and get him back on his feet. It was not my most difficult of cases but the emotional strain it took on my life was hard, prompting my sudden move to Chicago right after.  Thinking of him then remembers me of how Daryl looks now and a heavy sadness fills me at the thought. ‘Please God, let Daryl be another successful case, I need him to be okay.’  Dammit Daryl, why were you in that race to begin with.