Jules leaned over the stovetop to stir her meat, wrinkling up her nose in pleasure over the smell. Steam was lazily drifting towards the ceiling, giving off the most delightful aroma. She hummed to herself while sprinkling in the seasonings, smiling over the words to the tune that wouldn’t leave her mind. She was halfway through shredding lettuce leaves when she heard a knock at the door. “Coming!” Her voice was cheery, and she dried her hands on her apron while practically running to the door.

Fog surrounds me
It’s so thick that I
Choke
I
Trip
I get tired of being unable to see
The path winds on before me
I squint, trying to peer through the haze
My crutches drag the dirt
Beside me
While I walk alone
I’m searching for
Peace
I’m searching for
Ease
But I’ve been walking for miles
Treading rough ground
Breaking my bones
And
Breaking my heart
And
Breaking my pride
While I
Realize that rest may never come
Never or

CHAPTER 28: BUSY DAYS

CHAPTER 25: TRIPPIN' IT

By the time Jules woke up Saturday morning, she had made up her mind. She did not waste much time carrying her plan out. She had eaten her lunch and Duncan had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap. She gathered up her phone and headphones and headed out the door for her daily walk. The spring air was crisp and clean, and felt almost dewy, regardless of the bright sun shining down.

The next several weeks dragged by slow, and painfully for Jules. She started getting up earlier in the mornings to work out and make a healthy breakfast. All of the lifting, pushing, and caring for Duncan that she did was wearing out her mind more than anything else. She tried to set aside time each day to take a walk while Duncan was sleeping in the afternoons. She always looked forward to this time to let her mind wind down and relax, but it wasn't always enough.

Jules and Greta climbed on furniture and reached up to pull the streamers and balloons down. They laughed at each other while teasing about needing longer arms.
"Take that," Greta wrapped a long, pink streamer around Jules' face.
"Hey now!" Jules laughed and floundered from her perch on the back of the couch. She tried to free her eye-sight.
"Hey, Jules?" Miles called out from Duncan's bedroom.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have your grandpa's meds in there?"
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen. I'll grab them real quick."

The next two days passed by in a blur for Jules. Her dad flew out Saturday afternoon, and Miles took his place at the hospital with Duncan. Duncan was speaking more, and was able to begin physical therapy.
Sunday morning rolled around bright and sunny. Jules got up and dressed herself in a blue skirt and gray sweater with boots and leggings underneath. She pulled the sleeves down over her arms consciously, and pulled the collar up around her neck. Her skin was still crossed with bright red scars, and tender to the touch. She didn't want anybody asking questions.

The thunder rumbled on, and still Jules cried uncontrollably. It was all too much.
"Jules!"
She lifted her head, panting. It was a man's voice calling out to her above the sound of the rain. She listened intently, praying that it wasn't Martin. Maybe it was her dad? She couldn't be sure. She heard her name again, a little closer this time. It definitely wasn't her dad.
"Jules, where are you?"

It was 5:30 in the evening by the time Greta left the hospital with Kevin. Jules took off her sweater and settled into her seat next to the cold, stiff hospital bed. She let her mind wander freely. She was deeply pursuing an idea for her next painting when she blinked, alert and present. "Did somebody say my name?" She looked up and caught Duncan's gaze. "Grandad? Was that you?"
"Jules..." his voice was labored, but it was clearly her name. He managed a weak smile.