Lessons Learned

It's been a couple days since Vias brought me home. A couple days of being on somewhat restrictive bed rest and, while Vias is away at school, pushing myself past my limited abilities. A nurse came yesterday and told me she was very pleased with the progress I've made. That I'll be good as new in no time at all.

Sitting here, propped up by a pillow behind me and two on either side, flipping absentmindedly through the tv channels, I glance at the clock.

3:46.

He'll be coming home soon.

Shifting position I shut off the tv and put the remote back onto the night table. Picking up the ball, pleased that I've come this far, I try tossing it to my other hand. Catching but fumbling it I clench my teeth and try again. After a while my hands start shaking and my fingers refuse to cooperate with me.

Leaning back into the pillow I use the sheet to wipe off the sweat off my skin. Counting to twenty and then back down I clumsily rise. Using the wall for support I make my way to the bathroom. After taking care of business I head downstairs- slowly but surely.

Taking the opportunity to rest on the couch, partially to make the room stop spinning and partially because ever since the… incident I can't stay upright for long periods of time. Looking about the room, for the first time actually seeing, I find myself in a room similar to that at my home house. There's a couch, two armchairs, a bay window, a flat screen tv- wonder if Vias had to take on a side job to pay for it- and various other things one expects to find in a living room. Only difference is that the magazines and the newspaper on the coffee table are all current rather than being weeks, or months, old.

Picking up a photo of Vias with his arm wrapped around the waist of a blonde- Hallie right?- I smile at the funny look on their faces. They were such a cute couple, I bet his parents thought that they'd get married someday. Putting it down I wonder what his past relationships were; if Hallie was his first serious girlfriend; what he sees in me- if he does in fact see me as anything more than just his temporary student…

Pushing myself off the couch I continue to the kitchen and try not to feel how drastically my comfort level is here compared to when I'm at my house. For one of the few times in my life, I don't feel like I have to watch my step and worry if I crack an eggshell or two. Rummaging around the cabinets for something easy to make and plentiful enough to feed a mini army.

Muttering under my breath on how Vias doesn't seem to be big into eating anything instant, or canned for that matter, I hit the closest thing to jackpot that I'm going to get.

Pulling out the ingredients for tomato soup, I decide that grilled cheese and pickles would be on the menu tonight. Watching the clock carefully I chop the onion, mince the garlic, and cut the bread just so. Then I put it all in a pot along with oil, sugar and canned tomatoes to boil on the stove.

Five, give or take, minutes later I smooth out the concoction by putting portions of it into the blender at a time. Three minutes later I pour the soup into another pot and put in some olive oil, a two cups of broth- one chicken and one vegetable. Leaving the pot on the back burner I start working on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

All in all, half an hour later, I set the table and ladle some of the soup into individual bowls. Sandwiches on separate plates with the pickles, I feel a small sense of pride that my endurance is getting back to what it was.

Now if Vias would just come home. Then I could prove to him that I'm getting better.

Of course he always said I would. Feeling guilty by the way I've treated him the past couple of days I sit down, just to get back up a moment later. Pacing around I look at the clock and see that he should've been home ten minutes ago.

Brushing it off as traffic I just busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen. Washing the dishes I move to cleaning the counters and then I take out the trash. Returning to the front door I can feel my happy-go-lucky mood start to fade.

Laying down on the couch I rest my head on my arm and I must have drifted a little because the next thing I know someone's petting my hair and murmuring my name.

Opening my eyes I find Vias crouching in from of me, a concerned look on his face.

Seeing that I'm awake he asks quickly if I'm okay and then switches to "are you insane?" and ranting about how I should be in bed. Not really listening I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. Watching him pace back and force agitatedly in front of me I suppress a smile and wait for him to calm down.

Once he has I call him over- which he begrudgingly obliges- and pull him down next to me. Straddling him so he can't escape I cup his face in my hands and tell him, not for the first time, that I'm not a child- only leaving out the I don't need anyone's help part. Not because it's a lie, but because I don't want the rift between us to grow any further than it already has.

"Sure I'm a little worse for the wear but Vias, just listen to me. I'm fine."

Pressing my finger to his lips to prevent him from protesting I shake my head once, saying "no don't speak" without saying a word. Once his body relaxes I get off of his lap and lead him to the table. The surprise in his voice when he sees the five star, first class meal I've made is obvious, but I can't stop myself from feeling like my body's been filled with helium.

If I were a balloon I swear I'd be flying by now.

Sitting side by side at the table, by his request, we dine. And even though he compliments me on my cooking skill I can tell that I'm the one he'd rather be eating- not to sound conceited.

Snuggling closer to him I nuzzle his neck and even though I can't seem to bring myself to apologize, I know that he's forgiven me. Smiling when I see our reflection in the double sliding glass doors that lead out to the backyard I have to wonder…

Just how long something this good can last?