“Get up, stop pretending!” my husband shouted as I lay frozen in the driveway. His mother accused me of ruining his birthday and seeking attention. But when the paramedic examined my legs, she immediately called the police.

The pain didn’t come the way I’d expected. It felt like my body ignored it and plunged straight into the void. I tried to straighten up, to pull my knees towards me, but my legs wouldn’t respond. I lifted my head and stared at them, the way you stare at a stranger’s shoes.

Marilyn’s sandals clicked beside me. “Oh my God,” she said, but there was no fear in her voice. Only irritation. “Ethan, ignore her. She always does that when we don’t pay attention to her.”

Ethan threw his arms up in the air. “You’re not going to do that on my birthday, Claire. Get up.” He crouched down, not to help her, but to whisper sharply, “Stop embarrassing me.”

Our neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, was already on the phone. I heard her say, “She’s on the floor. She says she can’t move.”

The sirens arrived quickly. A paramedic named Jordan knelt beside me. In a calm voice, he asked my name, what had happened, and if I could feel his touch. He felt my feet, my ankles, my calves. I stared at his gloved hands, because my brain kept expecting my legs to tremble. They didn’t.

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