He looked around and was surprised to see that he was the only patient, but then again, he was twenty minutes early. Even his therapist wasn’t there yet. Not surprising, the weather being what it was. For all he knew, his two-hour therapy session might even be canceled. Doubtful but entirely possible. Most days the smell of stale sweat and the powerful disinfectant the cleaners used bothered him. Today he barely noticed it, his thoughts back in Georgetown with Maggie Spritzer. He wished he had someone to confide in. Someone like Cleo, who would listen and nuzzle with him, but Cleo came only during the week. Gus lowered himself to one of the benches, propped up his canes, and leaned back. He closed his eyes as he tried to project how much pain his therapist was going to put him through that day. And, of course, how cooperative his body would be. He thought about what he’d promised Maggie. He wondered how successful he would be. Four-star generals did not have loose lips, even though in this room they were just two guys fighting to get their bodies back into some kind of livable shape.
