Basile was heartbroken, though not entirely surprised. She had voiced certain concerns before — about the things Basile couldn’t do, the places he wouldn’t be able to go. Basile had begun to brace himself.
After she was gone, he missed her. Even more, he missed the ability to grieve as deeply as he knew he needed to, his sorrow numbed by medication. “I wish I could have a good cry,” Basile said. “It’s been so long.”
His father was no longer convinced it was the right time for him to move out. John Basile urged his son to wait.
But his girlfriend wasn’t the only reason Basile wanted to leave. He’d once hoped to be free of his wheelchair by the time he lived on his own. But he knew by now that forward movement couldn’t depend on the ability to walk.
Basile took three days to deliberate.
“It’s time to go,” he told his dad.
‘You’re beating it’
Basile told Huvelle about the move during a visit in February. He also told her — quickly, with a pained wince — about the breakup.
The judge’s expression immediately softened.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said. “Oh. That’s too bad.”
Basile shrugged. “So, that was . . .” he trailed off.
“Right,” she said, knowing what he meant. “I’m sure.”
The two sat in the living room of her apartment, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. Outside the courtroom, Huvelle still maintained a certain judicial poise and authority, her expression stoic, her reddish hair cut short. She had walked — a halting stride, without
Article source: http://www.washingtonpost.com/sf/local/2015/07/18/the-way-forward-2/