Love Impact

Okay, I need to admit something— I'm a terrible driver.Just the worst. Every morning as I'm gripping my steering wheel, knuckles white as ghosts, I curse the unmotivated DMV woman who let me pass my driver's test. The way she flicked that pen on her paper so slowly and carefree, I should've realized that she had already accepted a fate of death getting in that car with me. I really hope she's doing okay regardless. One thing's for sure, though, I'm definitely not okay.The minute I stepped into my car this morning, something just felt off. It took me an extra 10 minutes to get dressed, adding an extra 10 minutes to my commute. On top of that, my fuel tank was a tick short of empty, so I had to make a stop. On top of that, I had to take a detour due to construction on my daily route. I thought everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.While bobbing my head to the rhythms of soft classic rock, the warm, flowery breezes of the fresh Spring morning tickled my face through the car wi

"You look like a mess.""I know""You're still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.""I know.""Your makeup—""YES I KNOW!"Damien looked at me, eyes wide. He turned away from me and started laughing. Is this what I should be expecting for the next 6 months? Being berated by this stranger while spoon feeding him Jell-O? I felt ridiculous."Come on. Don't be so serious. This is going to be fun!" Damien's eyes were bright with excitement."If you're going to make fun of me, I'll just go back home. My roommate can do that much better than you can."Damien's smile turned serious. "Is that why you're back here? Your roommate?"I sighed and sank into the chair, "Among other things, I guess."Damien looked me over then frowned. "They're making me go home today," he stated trying to change the subject."Already?! You just got here.""Yeah, well. Right now I'm taking up prime real estate that they could use to make money off someone else," he chuckled.I frowned. How messed up was it that

One week had passed since the accident, and I was getting used to taking care of Damien. He had previously made himself out to be a lot more difficult than he actually was. Occasionally he would be picky about his food or demand things to be a certain way, but he was always very lighthearted about it. Damien spent most of his day tapping away on his laptop a couple keys at a time since his hand use was limited. I offered to help several times, but he always insisted it was "boring work stuff" and "there's no need". Whatever he did for work, Damien held onto that information like a vault. I can't say I wasn't insanely curious.My insomnia had been severe that entire week, and I often found myself sitting in the small balcony, overlooking the city. I was constantly thinking about how I didn't deserve such a comfortable life. Even aside from what happened with Damien, I never felt like I had truly deserved anything good, and the majority of my life up to that point had proven that theory

Damien spent 5 restless nights with the flu. During that time, he lay sweating in bed nearly half naked, complaining about being hot one minute then cold the next. I had run out a few times to get medicine and groceries but would come back quickly to make sure he was still okay. I began to realize I cared a lot about what happened to him even outside the scope of our deal. I chalked it up to a standard sense of human empathy-- nothing else.Most of my days were spent cleaning him and making him comfortable. He didn't make many snarky remarks during that time, but he always looked at me like he wanted to say something to me. A look of worry seemed to occasionally flash through his face then disappear in an instant. Something bothered him, but I knew he wouldn't come out with it on his own."Why do you look so concerned?" I asked while giving Damien his daily sponge bath. He needed these more frequently now due to the excessive sweating. I did feel proud that he was finally looking more

Rustling of magazine pages and light taps were the only sounds filling the small waiting area at Dr. Helder's office. She was the best physical therapist in the city, and Damien made sure of it. He always dove headfirst into researching any topic that was of importance to him, and being able to walk again was extremely important. He wasn't the only one that knew Dr. Helder's qualifications, a fact which was amplified by the amount of people crammed into the small waiting area. "Uggghhh," Damien groaned loudly, alerting the attention of everyone in the room. "What's wrong with you?" I asked, a little agitated by his verbal outburst. "How much longer? What's the point of an appointment if I still have to wait?" He complained. "I'm hungry!" I rolled my eyes, and took out a granola bar from the backpack I had placed on Damien's wheelchair. "Eat this and shut up, please," I pleaded with a harsh whisper. He took a bite and gave me a tight lipped smile, a huge chunk of granola bar fill