Learning to Dance

“You should get some rest. We’re going to try something
new for your physio session tomorrow.”
He eyed her warily. “It's not fine motor skills practice
again, is it? I don't think I can handle chopping any more
onions.”
She gave a small laugh, a reassuring sound. “And here I
thought it was you who made the onions cry. Come on, I’ll
help you.”
Damn her, she knew he was too weak after that attack to
get out of the tub himself. He’d been planning just to stay
there until his human skin shrivelled as much as it was able
to shrivel – or at least until she left. He was wearing
G.L.E.E. issue gym shorts, but she handed him a towel and
looked discreetly away as she helped him stand, leaning
heavily on her as he adjusted the towel around his shoulders
and maneuvered both of his mismatched legs over the side
of the hot tub. Her strength taunted him. He had always
taken his own for granted.
“I’ll find a wheelchair,” she said.
“No, dead goddammit Taz, I can walk.”
She kept her arm around his waist and let him continue
to lean on her until he felt well enough to walk on his own.
His pace was excruciating, his limp pronounced. She
insisted on seeing him all the way back to his room. He
wondered if he had a shred of dignity left.
“Do you need-”
“No,” he said, more sharply than he’d meant to.
She hugged the book he’d given her to her chest, then
held it out to him. “Here – take it. I’ll see you in the
morning.”
He took it. “Good night,” he said.
There was a moment, as there always was, of hesitation.
With one more sad smile, Taz turned and left. He went in to
his room alone.