Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 47: man's first steps

"Okay, Nathan," the nurse said. "I'm gonna have you swing your legs over the side of the bed for me, one at a time." Right off the bat, I was wincing, biting my lip while I moved one leg, and then the next. The whole time mom was watching carefully, and the nurse was by my side, muttering reassurances like "take your time," or "nice and easy." 

Once I had both legs dangling over the side, puffy and swollen as could be, she aided me in steadily placing my feet on the ground. I held her arm for support, trying my best not to squeeze too tight. She was a short, stout, Hispanic woman, but don't let her size fool you; this obviously wasn't her first rodeo, and didn't seem bothered by me gripping into her when I first put my full weight on the floor. 

I gritted my teeth. It felt like I hadn't used my legs in day, and then I remembered, it was because I hadn't. To add insult to injury was a literal injury. All of this, and it was no wonder why such a searing pain tore through my legs. It was the kind of pain that made you wanna cradle your leg in your own arms, protecting it from all possibilities of hurt. 

Nevertheless, I kept going. Not because I wanted to, but because everyone expected me to. Everyone had decided I was well overdue for a shower, and needed a good rinsing off. 

Funny to think the same kid, who was days prior was pushing himself beyond what he could take, had now given up on trying at all. I would have given up if it weren't for my mom sitting in a chair a few feet away, watching my every movement. 

"There you go," Veronica, the nurse said when I stood up on my own. After giving myself a minute to stretch the rest of my body, the stiffness and tenderness became a little more bearable, and we set off on our journey to the bathroom, all the way across the room. We went the long way, allowing me time to get used to walking again. 

Imagine getting out after spending the whole day on a car ride, but worse. Add to your jello legs a feeling of pain, and now you can imagine why I needed a few minutes to remember how to walk again. 

The bathroom was freezing, but I didn't mind. Memories of the searing heat still haunted my skin days later, and frankly, I didn't mind a shiver or two. 

"It's probably best that either your mom or me stay in here to make sure you're okay," Veronica said through her think accent. "Or we knock on the door every few minute." 

Mom jumped on the opportunity. "I'd feel better knowing I'm in here in case something happens." 

"I'm not disabled," I told her. Knowing it would bring peace to her mind, I quickly added, "But if you really want to." 

Veronica let us know that she'd be at the nurses station if we needed her, and left off. 

I turned on the light, and mom shut the door behind us. 

As I walked toward the shower, ready to shed this nasty hospital gown, I caught glimpse of something on the wall above the sink. A mirror. And I was in it. For the first time in days, I was seeing myself in the mirror. Not a distorted reflection on a spoon or TV monitor, but a clear look at my fragile state, lights shining on me to make the disgusting view all the more vivid and real. It was the first real look at myself since all this unfolded, and I couldn't handle it. 

And immediate sob tore through my throat, gasping its way out of me. 

There was a boy, who I didn't want to believe was me, but knew better than that. He had hollow eyes, greasy hair, bad acne, dry, cracked lips, pale, flushed skin, and to top it all off, he was thin as a toothpick. A hospital gown drooped over his bony shoulders. 

I didn't even try to stop the tears from falling down my pitiful, sunken face, not that I could have if I wanted to. It was too much to take in at once, I had to grip the sink to keep myself from falling. 

Mom rushed to my side, holding me while I sobbed. It was just a reflection, but for me, it was so much more. It was all I had worked for, down the drain of the bathroom sink. 

When I gained my composure enough to breathe evenly, and my gasping died down, I dared to looked in the mirror again. Mom tried soothing me with any words of comfort she could manage, but they all muffled into the background. Everything seemed a blur compared to my sadness. My second attempt at the mirror brought more tears, but these were muffled. 

The first cries were a mix of shock and disappointment; the second were a mix of sadness and humiliation. 

"It's okay," mom tried. "It's not that bad." 

Gripping the sink, I shook my head, which hung low with defeat and shame. "Don't lie." A few tears dripped on the cold tile, a few of them splashing onto my feet. 

"I'm not lying, baby," she said, gently rubbing my back. 

As comforting as this was, it made me feel more weak and pathetic than I already was. So I stood up straight, shrugging her hand off me in the process, and wiped my eyes free of tears. A few more managed to escape as I stripped from the gown and climbed into the shower, but managed to keep my face relatively dry. I didn't mind the tears so much with mom turned facing away from me. 

But how could I not cry after now seeing my naked body in the mirror? Now every bone, every hollowed out dip, was all in front of my eyes. But I managed to keep it quiet. 

It was a quiet shower, both on my end, and mom's. 

It was uncomfortable, but at this point, I'd gotten used to discomfort. After all, I'd been uncomfortable in my own body for a long time now.

~

Thoughts? 

If you feel comfortable doing so, feel free to share a time when you've felt uncomfortable in your own skin. 

Teaser: Nathan's going home soon.