Fragile Hearts Read Free

tried to set me up on a double date with him
and his girlfriend. The guy was a computer geek and nice, and seemed to
genuinely like me, but I got so nervous I threw up in the restaurant's bathroom.
    If
someone were to ask me if I'm happy with my life, I'd tell them I'm as happy as
I can be given I've lost a loved one and I'll never walk again. On the plus
side, I'm very thankful that I can dress myself and go to the bathroom without
assistance. My legs are skinny and I used to have a physical therapist come to
my house to exercise them. Now, I have a machine that I use at least every
other day to keep some tone in my muscles. There are lots of people in
wheelchairs who lead normal lives, marry, and have families, but I guess I
won't be one of them. My mom and dad tell me I'm too negative, but I can't seem
to help it. I've seen many counselors over the years that want to pry into my
head. I only allow them to go so far. They think I have amnesia from the night
my sister died. I let them believe that. But I really remember what happened.
It's not something I can talk about.
    Surprisingly,
I enjoy most of my classes; except speech. No way am I getting up in front of everyone.
I'll just refuse and get expelled from that class.
    My
favorite class is aquatics. I'm in a program specially designed for physically
challenged students. There are two teachers and several aides. Most of the
aides are students majoring in physical therapy. For some reason, I'm not
afraid of the water, probably because I used to swim so much as a kid. I feel
unshackled when I float. We get different aides every day and so far I've had both
guys and gals helping me. I'm not even upset when an aide touches me. Something
about the water makes me forget everything. I'm in line in my wheelchair waiting
for the lift with a couple of students in front of me. I can't wait to feel
free again in the water. Finally, I'm helped into the lift.
    I
feel that strange charging of the atmosphere and glance toward the pool
entrance. Tyce just entered. He's wearing gray swim trunks that almost reach
his knees. My eyes widen. I don't want him to see me in a bathing suit. It's a
pretty blue, one-piece, but no matter how pretty the suit, it doesn't change
how I look. I shrink downward, hoping he won't see me.
    His
eyes meet mine.
    He
stops to talk with one of the coaches and then glances in my direction again. I
beg God to make him leave. He walks to stand beside me.
    "Hello,
Morgan. Nice to see you."
    I
don't say anything. My throat has closed up. All I can do is stare at my skinny
legs.
    Tyce
sits on the side of the pool and slips into the water. The aide who was going
to assist me swims away when Tyce says something to him.
    To
me, he says, "Are you ready to be lowered?"
    My
heart is thumping so hard I can see my wrist pulsing. Somehow I manage to nod.
    Tyce
motions to the assistant operating the lift. Slowly the machine sinks into the
water and I feel buoyant, especially with the floatie thing around my waist
that they always make us wear. Tyce says, "Ready to leave the lift?"
    I
nod again and he slips his hands around my waist, gently pulling me forward. I
don't want to know the feeling of being so close to Tyce because I'll never
forget it. He says, "Put your hands on my shoulders."
    I
refuse to touch him and instead wrap my arms around my stomach. I can't look him
in the eyes, so I study the snake on his left bicep. He also has a tat on his
right pec, an eagle.
    He's
pulling me into deeper water. The lift is raised back up for another student. I
focus over Tyce's shoulder and watch my fellow students spread out across the
pool, but my gaze keeps wandering back to the eagle tattoo.
    Tyce
says, "I got that tat when I was twenty. It's my favorite. The others…"
he gives a little shrug, "I was going through a bad time and they seemed
appropriate."
    I
jerk my eyes away from the eagle and finally look him in the eyes. "What
are you doing here?" I sound rude, but I don't care. I