[Entry 002]
That first entry was kind of cathartic. I didn't realize how much I missed writing in a journal. When I was a kid it was one of my favorite things to do. We moved around so much it helped me remember all the places we had been and friends that had come and gone. It's been… let's see… wow, sixteen years since I stopped.
I'm still not sure the therapist isn't deluded but I guess I'll try this for a while.
Karin came by today.
At first I thought maybe Kaidan had implored her to stop and check in on me since he's back to work full time, but the Serrice Ice Brandy in her hand quickly persuaded me otherwise. The day we usually shared a bottle had passed while I was still semi-comatose back in London. It was her turn to buy and she hadn't forgotten.
She hasn't seen me since I'd been stuck in a hospital bed, hasn't seen me on my feet since I lost one.
She offered to grab glasses. I wasn't wearing my prosthetic and was hobbling around with my crutches. I know I look like a sorry sight. When people come over or when I go out they always ask if they can do things for me, even when I wear my prosthetic. I don't blame them but I never accept. On all but the worst of days I'm determined to do things for myself.
I waved her out to the balcony as I snagged two from the cupboard.
Summer is in full swing and most days are filled with sunshine and beautiful views of English Bay. The sun sets late and most days Kaidan gets home before the light's gone and we sit outside with the beers he brings home in a paper sack. I miss the Normandy but there's a small part of me that could get used to life like this.
Karin had cracked open the bottle and she poured out two servings as I settled myself into the other chair.
She asked what our toast should be for this year. Last year we toasted simply being happily drunk; this year it seemed obvious. "To beating the Reapers."
We clinked our glasses and drank that first glass in silence. In peace.
I never really thought I'd get to this place. I always assumed that I'd die fighting the Reapers. It wasn't that I wanted to die; it was just that the odds had been stacked against me.
After I refilled our glasses we talked about Vancouver and the team. She's been in contact with most of them—more so than I have—and she filled me in. Garrus and Tali had both returned to help their respective fleets and are waiting for the relays to open. Vega stayed in London; he's helping with the rebuild there.
**Note to self: I'm going to need to check on the N7 program and his status. Best talk to him about it first.
She hasn't spoken to Liara in a while but we both know she's been busy. The information she compiled on the relays for her "project" has been instrumental in rebuilding them.
As we talked about them I realized how much I missed seeing everyone every day. They were part of my crew, sure, but they were my closest friends. They had my back when things got hairy and it's hard to break bonds like that. I get emails from them but it's not the same.
Half the bottle disappeared before Chakwas excused herself. She had to get back to the city since she has an early shift tomorrow. There will be no sleeping it off in the med bay this time. I called her a cab and as we waited we made plans for next year. It will be my turn to buy.
We said good bye like we wouldn't see each other soon, even though we have plans for lunch when I come in for one of my appointments the day after tomorrow. Perhaps it's the brandy that made us hug each other a little too tightly as we parted ways at the door. Or perhaps it's because the relief of us reaching this anniversary is a little overwhelming. We never thought we'd see this day. Even though I told her back on the Normandy that it would come I'm not sure either of us really believed it. She patted my cheek and we both smiled and chuckled as she did so. Yes, definitely the brandy.
At least that's what I'll tell myself.