The Last Seven Feet

The first few feet demanded so much attention that Ethan forgot to be afraid.

He placed the crutches, shifted his weight, and moved carefully beneath Maya's quiet instructions. The paving looked different when he had to consider every joint between the stones.

Claire stayed to one side. His wheelchair followed close behind, ready whenever he needed it.

At eight feet, he stopped.

"Are we resting?" Maya asked.

"Standing for a moment."

She stayed close. He breathed until the tightness in his shoulders eased.

There was no audience beyond the two women, but he found himself listening for it: the murmur, the laugh somebody tried to disguise, the tiny electronic sound of a recording beginning.

A gardener appeared at the far end of the lawn carrying a hose. He glanced over, lifted a hand in greeting, and continued toward the greenhouse.

That was all.

Ethan almost laughed.

"What?" Claire asked.

"Nothing. I thought the entire estate would need to stop."

She followed his glance toward the gardener.

"The roses might object."

Maya checked his position. "Ready?"

He nodded.

At sixteen feet, the fountain sounded louder. He could distinguish water falling into the upper basin from the softer spill beneath it.

He had lived in the house for nine years. Before the accident, he had paced this path during phone calls without noticing its length. He had bought the fountain because an architect said the garden needed a focal point.

Ben had called it an expensive birdbath.

Ethan smiled at the memory and nearly let his next movement get ahead of him.

"Stay with me," Maya said.

"I am."

"Then stop looking at the destination."

He lowered his gaze to the paving in front of him.

They continued.

Twenty feet. Then twenty-three.

His arms were beginning to tremble. A damp line moved beneath his collar, and the medal clung to his skin.

"We can sit now," Maya said.

"A little farther."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

He described the fatigue instead of giving her the answer he preferred. She listened, watched him, and allowed another short stretch.

At twenty-seven feet, his left knee faltered.

Maya tightened her hold at the gait belt.

"Chair," she said.

The word struck him harder than the stumble.

Seven feet remained. He could have reached the rim with a running start once. He could see a pale chip in the stone, a tiny feather caught at the overflow.

"I can recover," he said.

"We're sitting down."

He opened his mouth.

Then he saw Lily at the desk on the bad Saturday, pencil hanging in the air because she hadn't known what to say.

He nodded.

Maya guided him back. The chair took his weight, and relief moved through his arms so sharply that he closed his eyes.

Claire handed him water.

For a minute, he couldn't look toward the fountain.

"Seven feet," he said finally.

"Yes," Maya answered.

"I've done seven feet before."

"You've also already done twenty-seven today."

He drank. The water was cool enough to hurt a tooth, and he welcomed something small and ordinary to be annoyed about.

Claire sat on the bench nearest them.

"Would you like me to stay, or would you prefer a few minutes?"

He looked at her. Once, he would have sent everyone away and called the attempt a waste of time.

"Stay, please."

She did.

A bee worked along the lavender beside the path. Somewhere inside the house, a door shut. Ethan waited for his breathing to settle.

"I wanted to tell her I'd done it," he admitted.

"You can tell her what you did. She'll want to know."

"Even if I don't finish?"

"She's been describing a collapsed cardboard bridge to me for two weeks. I don't think she'll mind an accurate report."

He laughed softly.

Maya crouched to check how he was feeling. They discussed ending the session, then the possibility of another attempt after a longer rest. She made no promise.

Ethan accepted that, though he hated it.

He drank the rest of his water. Claire told him about Lily arriving at the library with three sharpened pencils and declaring she was prepared for engineering. He asked about the next project. For ten minutes, his body was allowed to recover without his attention bearing down on it.

When Maya checked again, she agreed they could try the remaining distance.

"From here," she said. "And I can stop us again."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know that too."

She smiled, then helped him prepare.

Standing a second time was harder. He had to wait, reset, and try the transfer again. Once upright, he stayed still until Maya was satisfied.

Seven feet.

He moved one crutch, then the other. His feet followed with their slow, unequal effort.

The fountain came nearer.

Claire had risen from the bench. She said nothing, which he appreciated more than encouragement.

A little farther.

Maya reminded him to breathe.

The sound of the water filled the space around them.

When he reached the rim, Maya told him to stop. Ethan looked down and saw the stone beside his hip.

For several seconds, he didn't understand that there was no more path left to cover.

Then he laughed.

It broke halfway through, turning into a sound he could not control. He kept his hands on the crutches while Maya steadied him.

"You're there," she said.

Claire wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand.

"I can see that," Ethan managed.

"I was telling myself."

He sat when Maya brought the chair alongside him. This time sitting didn't feel like an interruption. He leaned back, exhausted, and looked at the water.

"Thirty-four feet," he said.

Maya squeezed his shoulder. "With good decisions in the middle."

He took out his phone.

His fingers shook as he typed a message to Claire's number, knowing she would show Lily when class finished.

I reached the fountain. Crutches, one rest, no carrying.

Claire's phone sounded in her bag. She looked at it and laughed through the last of her tears.

"I'll make sure your creditor receives it."

Lily's reply came at lunchtime.

Mom showed me. Did you really walk the whole way?

Yes.

The response took longer this time. Ethan watched the screen while his untouched lunch cooled.

Then the message arrived.

I'm proud of you. Also you owe me a million dollars.

He laughed loudly enough that Nathan looked up from the doorway.

Ethan typed back.

I had hoped you might forget.

Lily's answer was immediate.

I wrote it down. You signed it.

He looked toward the drawing on the rehabilitation room wall.

Then he called Nathan in.

"I need an appointment with Mrs. Bennett and her lawyer," he said. "It's time to pay a debt."