Chapter 11 - THE LAST DAY OF THE CONTRACT
Three months passed faster than I expected.
On my final morning, I arrived at the therapy room carrying my notebook.
Massimo was already there.
He looked at the clock.
"You're early."
I smiled.
"Don't get used to it."
He laughed.
We completed the final assessment.
His transfers had improved significantly.
His endurance was better.
He had greater independence in several daily activities.
And he'd made some measurable gains in voluntary lower-limb movement.
Walking independently remained uncertain.
Massimo knew that.
So did I.
But he no longer treated the uncertainty as a personal defeat.
Dr. Varela joined us for the discharge planning meeting.
We reviewed his ongoing rehabilitation needs.
A new physical therapist would take over.
An occupational therapist would continue supporting daily activities.
Massimo would remain under specialist care.
I documented everything carefully.
Then signed the final page.
My contract was complete.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Three months.
The arrangement that had saved my doctoral program.
I looked at Massimo.
"You're officially someone else's problem."
He laughed.
"That's a terrible farewell speech."
I smiled.
"I'm working on it."
He looked down.
Then said quietly:
"Thank you."
I swallowed.
"For what?"
He looked at me.
"For treating me like a person."
My eyes filled.
"That's what you deserved."
He shook his head.
"No."
He looked toward the garden.
"Most people treated me like a boss or a broken man."
He turned back.
"You treated me like Massimo."
I smiled through tears.
"Goodbye, Massimo."
His expression softened.
"Goodbye, Tessa."
May you like
I walked out of the therapy room.
And cried all the way to my car.
