I don’t think Mark appreciates that Chris telling him to keep an eye on me was the highest approval he could get. I’ll take extra care not to push myself so that Chris can trust Mark more.
“Shall we go?” I ask.
We set off, and I hang back so I’m not leading the way with everyone’s eyes on me as I get my bearings. I know that Terry warned me, but part of me expected the trail, which is a gentle slope, to be a piece of cake but it isn’t. My thigh muscles—or the lack thereof—tire quickly. A couple of minutes in I shrug off Mark’s jacket and offer it back to him.
Mark walks with me at the back of the group, half-keeping an eye on me, half-watching our surroundings.
“It’s pretty,” he says. The trail winds through forests, and the trees block the city from view.
“It is,” I agree. “Once I finish up this year, I want to find a spot like this in the countryside, with trails and the outdoors around me. Ideally next to the beach, since swimming is one of the exercises I can do without stressing my body.” Although I’ll need to be confident in my mobility for that plan. If I leave the city I won’t have easy access to services.
“Are there swimming prosthetics you can wear?” Mark asks, curiously. “Or do you take it off for going in the water?”
“I couldn’t wear this one,” I say. “But yes, there are swimming prosthetics. Legs and fins.”
Mark’s gaze jumps to me. “Fins?” he repeats.
I nod. “A company in Sweden specialises in them. Chris is already on to them about getting me fitted. And he’s contacted companies that specialise in running blades, biking blades, climbing feet…I’m going to have to get used to seeing the prosthetic, because none of those look anything like a real foot. And I can’t go for a run with loose trousers down to my heel.”
Mark glances down at my left leg. My pants are tucked into my boots, with the high ankle support of the boot hiding the prosthetic inside. However, if you look closely, or know what it is under the material of my trousers, you can see the concave part where my calf muscle should be. From the outside, it looks like I have one deteriorated leg.
“You can see why I wear jeans,” I note. The shape of them hides all of that on a day-to-day basis.
“When are you getting fitted for the exercise prosthetics?” Mark asks.
I grunt. “When the swelling goes down.”
“Swelling?” Mark’s eyes narrow.
“Relax. I got the clearance for today from my specialist andChris.”
“I thought your leg looked okay when I saw it,” Mark says unhappily.
I roll my eyes. “The first time you saw it was after I’d fallen. It was already swollen by that point. Even I didn’t notice,” I add.
“You wouldn’t notice anyway; you never look at it,” Mark points out.
“I notice when it hurts.”
“Hey!”
I glance up. Bethany and Louis are several lengths ahead, with Louis waving at us. I return my attention to walking, realising the ambling pace I’d been keeping. We catch up to them, pick our way through the different forks in the trail, and I’m beat at the halfway mark.
“Ugh,” I grunt, sitting on a flat rock, and Bethany promptly lies out next to me. We’re both panting while Louis and Mark aren’t so much as breaking a sweat, never-mind winded. I dig out my energy drink and, despite knowing I’ll give myself a stitch, I gulp it down.
Mark drifts closer to me, talking on his phone. “He’s guzzling down his drink,” Mark says. “Yes, it’s very erotic.”
I choke. My drink burns my nose and I spit some of it out as I cough.
“Oh crap,” Mark curses. “Call you back.”
He kneels next to me and pats my back, cringing as he apologises over and over.
“What the hell, Kyle?” Bethany says, disgusted.
She shakes spit-out energy drink off her hands with her nose scrunched. She then wipes her hands off on my back. Fair.
“It’s Mark’s fault,” I croak.
