Chapter 6: Home
The apartment felt smaller than it had before the accident, or maybe I was simply more aware of every surface I could not use easily. Nathan carried Lily’s seat inside, set the diaper bag on the counter, and waited for direction rather than taking over the space.
“Living room couch folds out,” I said. “Sheets are in the hall closet. Top shelf.”
He nodded once and went to find them. I sat carefully on the edge of the armchair, cast resting on a pillow, and watched Lily sleep in the carrier. The stitches above my eyebrow pulled when I frowned. The ribs complained with every deeper breath. None of it was as sharp as the memory of the call ending on my father’s voice.
Nathan returned with the sheets and made up the couch with the same economy he had shown in the hospital. No commentary. No attempts to lighten the mood. When he finished, he stood in the middle of the room and looked at me.
“What’s the hardest part for you right now—lifting her, bottles, or getting yourself up and down?”
“Lifting,” I said. “And the first few steps after sitting too long.”
“Then I handle lifts and night bottles for now. You call when you need to stand. We keep it simple.”
May you like
The simplicity still unsettled me. I was used to help that came with conditions, commentary, or the expectation of gratitude large enough to erase prior failure. Nathan offered none of that. He washed his hands, checked the written feed schedule the hospital had sent home, and then sat in the kitchen chair closest to the hallway, present without crowding.
Lily woke twenty minutes later. He brought her to me for the parts I could manage, took her for the parts I could not, and kept the exchanges brief and practical. By early evening the apartment had settled into a workable rhythm that required no performance from either of us.
