CHAPTER 16 – Step-Down

One day Dr. Garza was in the room, along with my mom and my dad.

I was lying there, looking at the ceiling.

I wasn't trying to prove anything. I wasn't focused on moving. My body did what it could. Or it did nothing.

And then it happened.

The foot.

My foot moved.

It wasn't big. It wasn't clean. It wasn't a movie-worthy movement. It was barely a minimal gesture, clumsy, almost involuntary.

But this time, that was enough.

My mom saw it. So did my dad.

The doctor leaned over the bed and touched my foot.

"Can you feel this?"

I said yes. Or I meant to say yes.

Then I moved it again.

From the outside it was barely that: a tiny movement. But for them, it wasn't tiny.

The temperature in the room changed.

The doctor stood still for a second. Then he turned to my mom and hugged her.

"I thought he wasn't going to be able to move his foot again."

My mom cried.

Not like before. Not from fear. This time she cried from something else.

It didn't resolve everything. It didn't erase the rest. But it opened a door.

Note: this is an excerpt. More of the chapter will be published later.