703 by Nancy Makin

Author:Nancy Makin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

I WAS ELATED to be sitting alone after having lived so long in someone else’s place; this was my new home, my sanctuary. After I’d rested for a few minutes, I got up and surveyed my new space. It was freshly painted and had large windows that looked out over a field with woods in the background. A large high school was to the left, and a tennis court stood right over the fence of my building’s property line. There were plenty of closets and ample kitchen space for a single person’s needs.

The balcony was lovely; I was lucky to be up high enough that I couldn’t see the parking lot traffic beneath where I’d sit, only trees, the school and downtown’s skyline to my right. More important, no one would be able to see me. But the best discovery of all was the moment I hauled my shower seat into the bathroom and realized it fit in the bathtub. Not every tub’s configuration meshes with a particular shower seat. One more obstacle conquered. I had a book in one of my bags, and so I sat in the living room, reading contentedly into the afternoon.

By three my butt was aching and my legs and ankles felt like they were on fire. A shower seat is not built for comfort; at least not for a very long period of time. My comforter was lying on the floor next to my cooler. Every few minutes I’d look up from my book and ponder stretching out on that plump spread, but I knew that this idea was a dangerous one. Perhaps I’d be able to get down there, but would I be able to get myself back up when I felt uncomfortable again? I mulled over the pros and cons. Finally, the pain overwhelmed my reason. I scooted to the edge of the seat, put one knee on the floor and slowly sank onto the comforter.

First, I sat, legs stretched out in front, wiggling my toes and reveling in my freedom. Next, I lay down on my side and stretched some more. My back felt great relief. I sat back up and read for an hour or more, till the bones in my derriere began their protest. The comforter was not that thick, after all; it was time to get back up onto my stool. I braced myself with my hands flat on the floor to one side and attempted to pivot onto my knees. I made it that far, but when I applied the necessary pressure to lift myself, I felt incredibly sharp pain in my knees. So I tried again, and regardless of the pain, I got back onto my knees and pushed with my arms for all I was worth. After a couple of attempts, I managed to get vertical, if wobbly from the exertion, and sat back down on my shower seat, wheezing and sweating and vowing never to do something that stupid again.

My son showed up around six with my ottoman, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever beheld.

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