Eleven Steps

On a Tuesday, Ethan managed twenty-three steps during a supervised session.

On Saturday, he managed eleven.

He hated the number before Maya finished writing it down.

"We could try once more," he said.

"Your left leg is fatigued."

"I know what my leg feels like."

"Then stop arguing with what it's telling you."

He threw the towel onto the bench. It landed harder than he intended, knocking over the empty water bottle beside it.

Lily stopped writing.

Ethan saw her pencil suspended above the page and felt immediately worse.

"I'll get it," she said.

"Leave it."

She sat back.

The sharpness in his voice stayed in the room after he had finished speaking.

Claire came in from the hall carrying coffee. She took one look at Lily, then at the bottle rolling beneath the bench.

"Do you want us to give you some time?"

He nearly said yes. It would be easier to recover his temper without witnesses. He could emerge later and pretend the morning had merely been tiring.

Lily's eyes had returned to her worksheet, though she wasn't writing.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That wasn't directed at you. It still sounded like it was."

She looked up cautiously.

"I was only going to pick it up."

"I know. Thank you. I can get it."

He did, using the reacher Maya had left near his chair. The absurd effort of retrieving an empty bottle almost undid his apology.

Maya waited until he had set it upright.

"We're finished for today."

He nodded.

Claire put his coffee on the table and took Lily to wash her hands before lunch. Maya began packing away the equipment.

"Twenty-three to eleven," he said quietly. "That feels like going backward."

"You've had poor sleep, a long workweek, and two demanding sessions. We discussed pacing."

"I thought I was past this part."

"Which part?"

He looked toward the bars.

"Having a good day and then finding out I can't keep it."

Maya sat on the bench rather than offering an exercise.

"I can't promise that will disappear. We can work on what you do when it happens."

Ethan watched the empty bottle.

"Throw fewer things."

"A useful starting point."

After lunch, Claire stepped outside to call her sister. Lily stayed in the breakfast room, drawing on the back of her worksheet.

Ethan rolled over to the table.

"May I sit here, or have you booked the whole room?"

She moved her pencil case.

For a while, he answered emails while she drew. When his phone rang, he silenced it.

"You can answer," she said.

"He wants a meeting that could be an email. It's a common illness at my office."

Lily smiled faintly.

He put the phone facedown.

"Are you still upset about this morning?"

"A little."

"That's fair."

She traced a line with her pencil.

"You said you didn't like people pretending. So I didn't know if I should say eleven was good."

He winced.

"You don't have to say anything about the number. You can tell me my coffee is getting cold. Or that I'm being unpleasant."

"Mom says I should say that politely."

"A restriction I wish she hadn't imposed."

Lily laughed, then grew quiet again.

Ethan waited.

"I forgot something about Dad," she said eventually.

He put his hands in his lap.

"What did you forget?"

"How he said my name when he called me downstairs. I know his voice on the videos. But when I try to hear it without a video, sometimes I can't."

She looked at him as if he might know whether this was allowed.

He thought of Ben leaving ridiculous messages instead of sending texts. How many had Ethan deleted without listening to the end?

"Sometimes I can't remember my brother's laugh exactly," he said.

Lily's eyes widened. "Really?"

"I remember that it was loud. I remember telling him to stop doing it in restaurants. But sometimes I can't make the sound happen in my head."

"Does it come back?"

"Occasionally. When I hear something that reminds me."

She looked down.

"I thought maybe I wasn't trying hard enough."

He reached for the pencil she had set beside his hand and turned it slowly.

"I don't think remembering works better because somebody is angry at themselves."

Lily glanced at him.

He gave a small, rueful smile. "I'm still learning that too."

She took the pencil back.

"Could Mom send you a video? So you know what he sounded like."

"I'd like that. I can show you one of Ben trying to assemble a tent."

"Was he good at it?"

"We slept in the car."

This time her laugh was loud enough to bring Claire to the doorway.

That evening, Ethan received a short video of Samuel wearing a paper crown. A younger Lily sat on his lap, explaining that birthday wishes were legally secret. Samuel listened with exaggerated seriousness and asked whether the law applied to cake.

Ethan watched it twice.

Then he sent Claire the camping video, warning her about Ben's vocabulary before letting Lily hear it.

On Monday, he returned to the bars. He completed thirteen steps and stopped when Maya told him to.

On Friday, Claire called about the library program.

"She got in," she said. "It starts next Saturday. Six weeks."

For a moment, Ethan said nothing.

"That's wonderful," he managed.

"She wanted to tell you herself tomorrow. She's made a folder."

The next morning, Lily showed him the acceptance email and a schedule decorated with stars. He asked enough questions that her nervous excitement became a stream of information about circuits and bridges.

Only when she went to get her backpack did he look at Claire.

"The room will be quieter."

"Probably."

"I'm glad she got in."

Claire's smile softened. "I know."

When they left, Ethan took down the dragon drawing to straighten its curling corners. Behind it was the date of his first step, written in Lily's heavy pencil.

He pinned both back securely.

Then he checked the time of his next appointment.