After the five-day treatment at the hospital, it was time for X to go home.
But to what home?
It had been decided that X would move back into his father’s house during his illness. Within two weeks after his diagnosis, X’s apartment on Prospect Avenue had been packed up by his family and put into his dad’s garage and basement. X was taken into his dad’s home and he sat down in the Lazyboy recliner. His dad helped him slowly into it and put up the leg rest for his bandaged and broken leg. It was such an awkward moment for him. It was the first time he’d been out of the hospital in weeks. He didn’t know where he belonged anymore and it was the first time he had a chance to actually think about what was happening to him.
X’s dad’s girlfriend, C, came down from Up North for the weekend. J.J. had come over for dinner with the family. They all had prepared a marvellous dinner while X pretended to watch the TV, his mind somewhere else. Dinner was put on the table and they all stood in front of their chairs, except X. They asked if X felt like eating something, but he couldn’t come to the table. He told them to begin eating and he’d eventually come. Then he turned his head away from them as tears involuntarily began falling from his eyes. He couldn’t stop weeping. He tried holding it back, but he couldn’t. His reality had finally begun to catch up with him. X’s family sat at the table in an awkward and uncomfortable silence. Everyone in the room felt the heaviness of that moment.
That was the first moment that X knew his life would never be the same ever again.
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