I saw a lot of things throughout my days as Will's carer - his good days, his bad days, his laughter and his tears. Best of all, I saw his improvement. There were small improvements like less spasms in his arms and buying Will a waterbed so that his body stopped aching after every sleep. And then there were bigger improvements.
"He's stayed so persistent through physio and his situation. I'm so proud of him," I confessed to Nathan around the two year mark after the accident. "I don't know how he hasn't lost motivation."
Nathan stared into Will's room as he filled up his beaker with water, smiling. "I have some ideas."
Will's hand movement had improved considerably. He no longer fought to control the joystick on his chair and on good days, could even manage to lift small objects.
"Clark, let's go enjoy the sunshine." Will wheeled his way out of the annex without looking back, following the path down to the garden. I hurried from making Will's bed to the garden, sitting on the stone wall beside him and watching Will.
Will leaned back in his chair, his hair which was now bordering on being unkept, fell from his face and exposed his pale skin to the sunlight. Will loved Spring - the flowers, the green, the sun. It wasn't beyond me to understand his sudden desire to sun bathe.
"Your mother has done a wonderful job on the garden," I commented after several moments of silence had passed. I hopped off of the wall and gently snapped off a gardenia from the flower bed, bringing it to Will. He opened his eyes and stared at the flower in my hands.
"Did I ever tell you why she kept the garden up, despite the accident?" Will finally responded, looking up at me through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. I leaned over and pushed the hair behind his ear, shaking my head. "She says it's a stress relief but I see her looking up at the window and hoping I'm staring down. I think it makes her happy to know I have something beautiful to look at."
I looked at the garden again with a new found admiration for Mrs Traynor. She'd done an immaculate on the garden which I'd assumed had been professionally done. I felt Will's eyes on me and him muttering something that sounded like "she needn't have worried." I looked up in surprise but Will was looking at my hand again, reaching for the flower, his hand shaking in it's thirty centimetres or so from the chair. I handed him the flower and he spun it delicately in his fingers.
"Come here Clark," Will demanded. I leaned down as Will lifted his hand up again and propped the flower behind my ear. He let his hand hover near my cheek, shakily reaching to stroke my cheek. I felt his warmth against my cheek and my cheeks flushed.
His fingers began to fall and I reached for them, pulling them back to my face. There was a moment of silence between us, one that had me pondering my feelings and his for me. That was the first day Will had had the courage to share his progress with anyone besides Nathan. That was also the first day I felt feelings develop for Will.
Just months after this, Will was consistent with his hands, able to use his hands for several minutes before shaking. Nathan told me they'd begun working on strengthening the muscles in Will's arm in the hope one day he'd be able to have full mobility of his arms. My face lit up at the concept of full mobility. Will would be so delighted. I did my best to keep Will happy and to offer to help with physio at any free moment in the day.
He graciously accepted my help most days, unafraid to be weak in front of me anymore. The beginning of our friendship, when the accident was recent, had been a very awkward exchange. He hadn't been ready to be vulnerable and I hadn't known how to react to this man as he adapted to his new life. But he sat in front of me everyday now and we worked until he sweat or became frustrated and on particularly tough days, cried. It was something that happened so rarely that I was still surprised everytime I saw his face fall and tears well up in his eyes. My only way of comforting him was holding his hand in the hope I was of any assistance.
I knew I loved Will - he was my best friend, despite my job as his carer. We understood each other enough that one glance was enough for either of us to know something was up. That had been proven the day after I broke things off with Patrick.
It had been about two months after Alicia had dumped Will when I'd ended things with Pat. I'd known things weren't working for some time - Patrick and I had little in common except for an admiration for romance movies and sex. Patrick had been angry when I'd told him.
"There's someone else, isn't there?" I'd told him no but I hadn't considered why I instantly thought of Will. "I can find someone better than you anyway."
I had been offended at the time but it became evident that Patrick did not end relationships maturely. He could find some thin supermodel with big boobs who worked out at his club but wait until they saw what was under his pants. Or specifically, what little was under his pants.
I'd shown up to work the next day bitter but I'd decided to put it beside me, focusing on my job. I busied myself throughout the day, dusting things that I'd already dusted, making extra meals to put them in the freezer for Will. I even offered to cut Will's hair who happily obliged, complaining about constantly having to ask people to move his hair out of his face.
"What's up with you today, Clark?" Will asked as I shifted his head forward.
"Hm?" I began snipping away.
"You've been awfully annoying with all of your cleaning. And you've been scowling all day." He pointed at my forehead. "Be careful or you'll get frown lines." I laughed despite my mood.
"Yes, well. I broke up with Patrick last night."
There was silence from Will as I cut his hair.
At least, he broke his silence. "Are you alright?"
I took my time to answer this time. I was always completely honest with Will - there was no point in lying to somebody who could read you so well.
"Yes. He was an ass."
Will laughed and at last, I moved Will's head up to expose his face. He met my eyes and held them, a mischievous look in his gaze.
"At least I don't have to fantasize about him running so far that he doesn't come back." I laughed despite myself. It wasn't until a few days after I had processed the break up that I thought about what Will had said.
Why did he want Patrick out of the picture? Did he not approve or was he protective? Or was there another reason?
I spent my days entertaining Will to the best of my ability. He grew bored easily and despite his new ability to use his hands more consistently, he often grew depressed to the point where he wouldn't speak to me for days. Those days were long and cruel, leaving me doubting our friendship or what I'd done to deserve the silent treatment despite knowing it wasn't me. It was Will and Will alone.
I sometimes think he's lonely despite me always being around. His friends from his past rarely visited and when they did, their faces were filled with pity. I knew it hurt Will to see their expressions. It was evident from the tension in his jaw, the stillness of his hands.
I saw the pain he went through as time went on and his friends continued on with life. Marriages, babies, promotions, adventures that made Will glare at the screen in envy. I saw his dreams flash through his eyes, things he'd never do, things that seemed unattainable now.
"Look Clark, Alicia got engaged. Moves on fast, eh?" I'd been a little worried at that one but Will had seemed fine, scrolling through his newsfeed without clicking the little 'like' button.
I was well aware I wasn't as interesting as Will's old friends. I'd had no life experiences to share with Will, no tragic love stories or hopeful adventures. I'd live in the same house all of my life with the same people, eaten at the same plain restaurants and had the same plain life. Will had lived on the edge. Nothing was too big an obstacle - sky diving, snow boarding, rock climbing. He'd done it all. He showed me photos later in our friendship - I sensed these photos were things he'd obsessed over in the hopes inspiration would help with physio and getting back out there. Due to his face when he offered to show me, I assumed he'd long since given up on that idea. He asked me to hold his hand as he flicked through the photos, brows furrowed in stress.
Photos of a more tanned, more fit Will littered his computer. Leggy blondes and big-boobed brunettes made just as constant an appearance and I poked him.
"Bit of a player, eh?" Will laughed, the tension in his body disappearing.
"I paid them to be in the photos," he promised. I rolled my eyes as he pressed the mouse to move to a photo of Will and a blonde woman kissing. I recognised her as Alicia. I raised my eyebrows at the screen and Will pressed the delete button. "Maybe not all of them."
Most of Will's photos were beautiful with sunsets and oceans and Will in various mobile activities. He laughed and pointed at some of them, telling me a story about how he'd broken a toe or actually been half drunk during that one. It was a bonding moment for us where I'd leaned on Will's shoulder and laughed with him over silly stories of a different Will.
But this Will missed his former life. It was evident, even when we were out and about, using the van to take us to the cinemas or nearby parks and ponds. But I like to think despite this, we were happy. I worked hard to keep a smile on his face, even in his spells of depression where he barely spoke. I'd still prepare his favourite milkshake for breakfast - a banana milkshake with just a drop of mint, still help him in the ways he told me he needed help non-verbally. Things like the tensing of his shoulder meant his neck sore and he needed to be moved or massaged. Spasms through his arms and legs would be massaged and hot packed. I'd help feed him and he'd just stare blankly at me. I wasn't sure what went through his head on those darker days. But these darker days lessened as he improved.
And I loved him. I realised the extent this love went. His sad days were torturous and his good days left me giddy to the point my parents would ask if I'd just won a competition. I noticed the intensity of my feelings growing every day, with every joke and every smile.
Around two and a half years after the accident, Will called me into his bedroom where he'd remained in the morning, too tired to get up. He'd looked so shocked, as white as a sheet.
"Lou, lift my sheets up."
I scrambled to his side, placing an arm on his. "Will, are you alright?"
"Quickly."
I obeyed, revealing Will and his pajamas all the way to his toes.
"Do you want to get out of bed? I'll get your chair-"
Will interrupted me, pointing at his feet. "Look."
And I stared at Will's feet, completely confused. Until I saw his toes move. They stretched out and with a little effort, Will even twisted his ankle a little.
"Oh my god."
I had no other words, no other possible way to express my pride and love for this man.
Will stopped moving his toes and stared at me, the biggest and most shocked grin I'd ever seen him wear on his face. "I can feel them, Clark."
I wrapped my arms around him, feeling tears of happiness glisten in my eyes. I'd seen Will staring at his feet so often, waiting for any possible sign of life. And there it was. He pulled his face off of my shoulder and met my eyes. His eyes trailed to my lips and perhaps with too little thought, I leaned in and broke the distance. He responded eagerly, his lips parting as he deepened our kiss. I didn't know what this meant for us - I was still coming to terms with realising I had romantic feelings and now I had to come to terms with Will reciprocating them.
To this day, I could never possibly explain how Will gained mobility in his toes again. When I called Nathan to tell him what happened, he'd told me to stop drinking on the job. When he'd arrived for lunch, he'd had to sit down. It had been an actual miracle. Even the doctors were baffled.
"He showed no signs of improving before. Could there be hope for his legs after all? His spine?" I'd heard their voices outside of Will's room. Will's face was so full of wonder and delight and I prayed to God that Will could have a chance at his old life, the one he so deeply longed for.
