James
“So how did it go?”
Michael prises the cap off a beer bottle on the edge of the table then gulps down from the neck before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “It was…. surreal.”
I’m up and about and able to walk now, at the level of using the bathroom without the intervention of a nurse. Nonetheless, Michael’s return is an excuse for me to climb back into bed, take the weight from my aching leg and draw a surreptitious sigh, which he pretends not to notice.
And I’m happy enough to be here. Back in the beach house, the environment is soothing and convinces me to sleep more than I could have done in the renovation/building site which is our mountain home, even were we able to return there.
I prop myself up against the pillows and Michael reaches around, rearranging them for me. When I’m settled comfortably, “Go on. I’m listening.”