Recuperating

It went painfully slow. After two weeks, he regained consciousness. He was bald now, from the emergency surgery. His mouth felt dry. He looked over, and saw Elizabeth. Emily and Aaron were both laid against her naked bosom.

"You're ... you're here," he rasped. Elizabeth looked over at him, surprised.

"Oh, Jamaal, of course I am," she said, looking at him lovingly. He moved his arms. Check. He tried to wiggle his toes. No luck.

"I can't -- I can't move my legs," Jamaal said. He struggled, growing more frantic.

"You were shot, baby. In the back. Saving me. Saving my baby. I'm so sorry. You might be able to walk again, but ... we're not there yet," she said. She didn't know how to break such terrible news. She saw him face away, and he broke down.

"All my hopes ... my dreams ... fucking gone. I'm a cripple. Why are you even still here!" he said, his breaths going ragged.

"Because ... I love you," Elizabeth said. And she meant it. She placed the twins into the crib, cradling Jamaal's face. "And I'll be with you ... through thick and thin, every step of the way."

That was what he needed to hear. He got control of himself.

"Okay. I believe you."