Chapter 13 - THE MAN WHO LEARNED TO LIVE
Two years after Nicholas awakened, he walked without a cane.
Not perfectly.
Some mornings, his left leg remained stiff.
He tired more easily than before.
And certain memories still came slowly.
But he was alive.
He had completed his rehabilitation.
He was working within the conditions of his legal agreements.
And he spent much of his time supporting programs for people recovering from traumatic brain injuries.
I had completed my advanced nursing certification and was working in trauma care.
Our relationship had grown slowly.
We argued sometimes.
Laughed often.
And learned that love wasn't a cure for the past.
One evening, Nicholas invited me to dinner.
Not at a luxury restaurant.
At his apartment.
He cooked pasta.
Badly.
I stared at the plate.
“Is this supposed to be edible?”
He looked offended.
“I followed the recipe.”
I laughed.
“Did the recipe say to boil the pasta for forty minutes?”
He sighed.
“I may have improvised.”
We ordered pizza.
Later, while washing dishes, Nicholas looked at me.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I turned.
He smiled nervously.
“Not a proposal. Yet.”
I laughed.
“Good. Because you still need cooking lessons.”
May you like
He kissed my forehead.
“Fair.”
