The Limp

Last week Rio hurt his ankle.  He twisted it while my mom was picking him up from school.  He came into the house hopping on one foot.

"Mom, Rio's hurt!"  Amaya called out with panic in her voice, as they entered the front door.

Rio told me what happened, not leaving any detail out.  As I removed his shoe and sock the expressions on his face told me to be very gentle.

"Let me go get the ankle brace for you,"  I said.

"Do you think he really needs it?"  my mom asked.

"No.  But if he's okay after it's on, we'll know it's not serious."   

After the ankle brace was on he hopped around, limped, and still grunted with pain. 

"Maybe he's not faking,"  I thought.

A couple hours later it was time for soccer camp.  Guess who was miraculously healed.  Rio's limp was gone.  It didn't bother him on the field or inside the goal.  It didn't stop him from spinning or doing cartwheels when he was supposed to be paying attention.

At home after soccer the mysterious limp returned.  He hobbled down the hall to his room to put on his pajamas. 

"Rio, why are you limping?"  I asked.

"Remember..."  he drew out.  "I hurt it." 

The next day, same thing.  The following day after that, same thing.  The day of his soccer game, same thing.  So on and so on.  I thought he had forgotten about his ankle until last night, when I saw him hobble past the office. 

"Rio are you okay?"  I asked.

"Gese, what does it take to get some attention?"  he asked while limping towards me.

Apparently bleed.