Always Orchid by Carol Van Den Hende

Author:Carol Van Den Hende [Hende, Carol Van Den]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781958223055
Publisher: Azine Press
Published: 2023-05-20T19:54:05+00:00

CHAPTER 22

DOCTOR’S ORDERS

Orchid

Orchid read Phoenix’s suffering in the curve of his back as they passed the receptionist’s desk, out through the automatic doors, towards their awaiting car.

“Do you still want to head out for lunch?” she asked.

“I’m up for it. How about you? You’ve been looking forward to showing me the restaurant you’d found,” he said.

“Let’s go, it’ll be fun,” she said, and allowed her fingertips to alight along his left forearm, a way to stay connected as they rolled over the pavement.

Shifu opened the doors for them. With a one-legged pivot, Phoenix transferred into the back of the car.

Orchid pulled up the center of the chair to fold it like an accordion and handed over the heavy object to their driver. She joined Phoenix in the backseat while the driver secured the chair in the trunk. Physically, Phoenix looked more like himself with his prosthesis on.

“To the restaurant,” Orchid told the driver in Chinese as the car pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the highway.

“Maybe there’ll be booze,” Phoenix wished aloud.

“I could use a nip of baijiu,” she added.

At the mention of the famous Chinese liquor, the driver lifted a hand, toasting the couple.

“Are you better?” the driver asked Phoenix in Chinese.

“Hai keyi,” Phoenix answered that he was okay.

The driver shifted his eyes from the rear-view mirror to the road ahead of them.

“You’re a trooper to come today,” Phoenix said.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Phoenix snorted. “Like the hospital is your favorite place.”

“Maybe not. But you’re my favorite person.”

He leaned closer to take her hand, his one source of mobility in her palm. Inhale. His pads had grown callused from months in the chair. She thought of buying him a glove, the fingerless type that would leave his dexterity intact. “You’re an angel.”

This beautiful man with expressive eyes, and kindness to the stars and back. He was a giant to her. A hero. Her love.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“It’s better to know what’s going on. How are you taking it?” he asked.

“I’m worried about you. What are you thinking about doing?”

“I’m sorry to do this to you, but I think I’m going to have to head back home, to my regular surgeon.”

She nodded and imagined Phoenix’s recovery, limping with a cane in hand. With his sole grip occupied, how would he even open a door? She’d never heard him complain about the difficulties in his everyday life.

His sad pained leg had no idea it was in danger of being bisected. It jutted out on the padded protrusion they called a stump board. Who the hell named these things, as if what Phoenix was going through wasn’t hard enough. Words mattered and became part of people’s inner monologue. Instead, maybe they could call it his cloud cushion, his chair could be his throne, his crutch a power stick.

She’d known so little about his rehab after his accident. Only the bits she could glean from Caleb, and the photo album she’d seen. She squeezed his shoulder, her silent promise to support whatever he needed.

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