In her hands were medical braces. Then she pulled out a folder full of exercise plans and treatment notes.
“My name is Lena,” she said. “I’m a rehabilitation specialist.”
I turned to Jake in disbelief. “You secretly brought a therapist into our bedroom while pretending to be paralyzed in front of your wife?”
Jake rubbed his face. “Please calm down.”
“Calm down?” I said. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”
Lena looked both embarrassed and frustrated.
“He should have told you months ago,” she said.
“Months?” I repeated.
Jake sighed heavily. “Mara, please sit down.”
“No,” I said. “Start explaining.”
Lena finally spoke.
“He started seeing me last year,” she said. “A new scan showed that the damage from his accident wasn’t complete. There was a chance he could regain partial movement with intensive therapy.”
Jake added quickly, “I wasn’t faking for twenty years. I really was disabled.”
Lena nodded. “That’s true. But in the last several months he’s been able to stand and walk short distances.”
I looked straight at Jake.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
He stayed silent.
