by Louise Hall
“Thanks,” Hannah says. “We’re only here for a couple of days to celebrate Eric’s birthday.”
We chat for a while about their jobs – they both work in the wine industry.
“You look totally different, you know?” Luke says.
Hannah whacks his arm and he quickly blushes when he realises what he’s just said.
I chuckle, “yeah, losing a leg will do that to you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stumbles over his words.
“I know you didn’t,” I quickly reassure him. He’s not the most tactful guy in the world but he’s not cruel.
“I was talking about your tattoos.” I look down and I realise that I’m still wearing the comfy, workout clothes I wore to my PT session: black yoga pants and a cut-off t-shirt so quite a lot of my ink and piercings are on display. I’ve got my hair up in a messy bun so they must be able to see the lotus flower on the back of my neck as well.
“I used to have more but I think they’re languishing in a medical waste facility now.”
“Nate said you were seeing somebody in Oahu?”
It’s a good job he’s one of my best friends because he’s even nosier than my family. “I was and now I’m not.”
“Sheesh,” he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, “you don’t have much luck with boyfriends, do you? First Noah and now this loser. Maybe you should think about switching teams?”
I roll my eyes at Hannah, “how do you resist the urge to just smother your husband with a pillow while he’s asleep every night?”
She smiles at me, “it’s tough but I’ve managed it so far.”
I turn my attention back to Luke, “thanks for the suggestion but I think I’m actually going to swear off dating for… the rest of my life, maybe?”
Hannah looks at me sympathetically, “despite what this bozo says, I don’t think that you should give up so easily. I just know that there’s a really great guy somewhere out there for you.”
She’s such a sweetheart; I actually remember her giving me almost this exact same speech after I found my date kissing his ex-girlfriend behind the bleachers during prom.
Before they leave, they make me promise that I’ll go to Eric’s birthday party at the Taco Shack tomorrow night. I’m about to tell them the same thing I told Nate, which is that I can’t because I’m not ready to show off my disabled self to almost everybody I know in Seattle just yet but then Mum appears and before I can even say anything, she says that of course I’ll be there. She might be my mum but that definitely earns her a death-glare.
“You can’t hide out here forever, Lola,” she reminds me after Luke and Hannah have gone. “How do you think you’re going to manage in Oahu if you’re not even brave enough to attend a birthday party for one of our really good friends? Did you forget that Eric singlehandedly delivered your sister, Sierra right here in our living room?”
“I don’t need to think about how I’m going to manage in Oahu because I’m never going back there,” I snap.
“OK,” Mum looks so smug; I badly want to drop an f-bomb.
“I’m serious. Why on earth would I go back to Oahu? There’s nothing left for me there.”
“If you say so.”
When she’s being like this, Mum really reminds me of Vada.
She picks up the empty coffee mugs that Luke and Hannah have left behind and walks away from me into the kitchen. I stomp after her and it’s only when I get to the threshold of the kitchen and I can see her smirking that I realise that I’ve just bossed my crutches like an absolute champ.
“You’re so annoying.”
Sierra must have caught the tail end of the conversation because she immediately whines, “what did I do?”
“You’re my date for Uncle Eric’s birthday party tomorrow night.”
She shrugs and turns to Mum, “can I have some money to buy a new dress then?”
“We can’t go in there just yet,” Sierra complains when we get to the top of the stairs at the Taco Shack. “I’m sweating like a pig after having to haul your hefty ass up those stairs so I need to fix my make-up.”
“You cannot call your one-legged sister’s ass hefty.”
“I don’t care if you’ve got one leg or three hundred legs, if your ass is hefty; I’m going to say it’s hefty.”
“Please,” I say the one thing which I can guarantee will wind her up. “I bet I weigh less than you do now.”
“Take that back,” she demands, whipping out her glitteriest lip gloss, “or I’m going to smear this all over you until you look like a freaking disco ball.”
Unlike my sister, whose second home might as well be Sephora, I’m not that into make-up so I’m only wearing mascara. I still think I look cute though – I’m wearing a calf-length teal dress so my stump isn’t on full display. It’s sleeveless and dips low enough at the front that you can see the start of the script which runs between my small boobs and I’m wearing my hair up so I can show off my lotus flower. The look would be perfect if it wasn’t accessorised by my ugly-ass crutches but although I’ve got a prosthetic now, I’m still not comfortable enough to use it outside the house.
“Not a chance,” I say as I pull open the front door. Mum, Dad and the rest of my family are already inside.
“Happy birthday,” I give Eric a one-armed hug.
“I’m so glad you could make it tonight, Lola.”
I quickly realise that although I’d made it out to be this huge deal – the official unveiling of the ugly-ass stump – it’s actually not that bad because I’ve already seen most of the people here since I got out of the hospital.
Heidi, the owner of the Shack and another of my mum and dad’s really good friends, makes me a killer virgin margarita and my uncle Jax (Liv’s husband) plays a medley of Eric’s favourite songs. I can’t exactly dance but then I wasn’t very good at it before I lost my leg so I don’t feel like I’m missing out. The food is so amazing that if I was ready to decide what I’m going to do next, it would definitely tug me in the direction of staying here in Seattle.
I’m sitting at one of the booths at the back, chatting with my aunt Liv and Heidi’s son, Diego when Jax announces that he’s going to take a short break. It’s then that “Bohemian Rhapsody” comes on; I’ve forgotten that it’s one of Eric’s favourite songs too. “Do you still know all the words to this?” Liv asks.
“Mm, it’s my party trick.” I’m immediately transported back to my first date with Zev when he made reservations at that awful vegan restaurant. I miss him right down to the marrow of my bones.
I can’t stand to hear any more Scaramouches so I get up; I’m so focused on getting out of the now claustrophobic Taco Shack that I forget that I’ve only got one leg and I lurch forward. Fortunately, Liv’s got great reflexes and she catches me before anybody notices. Tears are trickling down my cheeks and I hate it, I hate feeling so helpless.
“It’s OK, Lola Bean. I’ve got you,” Liv whispers.
Heidi must have seen me almost fall because she gestures towards the swinging doors of the kitchen.
Liv helps me navigate through the busy kitchen until finally we’re in the fresh air outside. “Ugh, I’m such a basket case,” I groan when it’s just the two of us.
“No, you’re not,” she attempts to reassure me.
I look up at her, “I nearly fell on my face right in the middle of Eric’s birthday party because I forgot I need crutches now.”
“Yeah,” Liv smiles, “that wasn’t exactly your finest moment. What happened that made you want to leave so badly?”
“It’s that song,” I curse. At least I can’t still hear it because it’s been drowned out by the hustle and bustle from the kitchen. “It reminds me of him.”
Liv gets her phone out of her handbag, “I’ve got something that will cheer you up.”
“Yeah?” If it’s not a bucket-load of happy pills, I very much doubt it.
But she’s right; I bust out laughing when the first few
bars of “Best Song Ever” by One Direction pierce the cool, night air.
“I haven’t heard this in forever.” I used to love this song. “Do you remember when I made Dad and Matteo Di Vela do the dance moves with me?” Matteo was one of my Dad’s team-mates at Rovers and he stayed with us for a while after he had a nasty head injury.
“Can you imagine how much a video of that would have been worth?” Liv chuckles.
“Come on,” she says, holding her phone up above her head and twirling around, shaking her tush. Her joy is so infectious that I can’t help forgetting about my heartbreak for a moment as I join her in pretending to paddle.
After the song has finished, Liv asks, “are you ready to come back inside?”
“I’m kind of tired; I think I’m going to go home.”
“OK,” Liv nods, “I’ll get Sofia to walk back with you.”
“Sofia’s been really quiet tonight. Is everything OK with her?”
Liv frowns, “apart from family events like tonight, she’s grounded for the foreseeable future. I caught her smoking again yesterday.”
“Yikes, was Sierra with her?” My sister and Sofia are a similar age and they’re usually inseparable. If she’s been smoking too, I don’t care if I’ve only got one leg, I’m going to seriously kick my sister’s behind.
“Nope, just Sofia.”
“You can’t give me the silent treatment all the way home, Soph,” I nudge my cousin as she walks me back from the Taco Shack. She hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, “I’ve only got one leg, remember?”
Sofia rolls her eyes.
“Come on,” I bump her with my shoulder, “your mum said she caught you smoking yesterday. What’s up with that?”
“Oh my goodness,” Sofia yelps, “you and my parents need to stop overreacting. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It’s a humungous deal. Did you know that smoking can cause Peripheral Arterial Disease or PAD, a serious vascular condition that can lead to leg amputation or a fatal heart attack?”
“It’s not like I’m smoking a pack a day or something. I just need to lose a few more pounds and then I’ll quit. They stop me feeling hungry all the time.”
I screech to a halt on my crutches and still remain upright which is quite an achievement. “You don’t need to lose a single ounce, Soph. You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re family so you have to say that. I know what I see when I look in the mirror.”
“Have you met my sister, Sierra?” Sofia’s lips twitch with amusement. “She might be family but believe me, she’s never less than a gazillion percent honest with me.” I think about telling Sofia that my lovely sister called me “hefty” earlier this evening but I wisely decide to steer clear of anything weight-related.
I know my sister gets a lot of attention because she’s tall and willowy; she could wear a ratty bin-bag and still make it look like haute couture. Sofia’s just as gorgeous but in a different way. My sister’s beauty is fierce; it’s gravity-defying stiletto heels that will skewer you if you look at her the wrong way. Sofia’s softer and curvier. She’s got waist-length chestnut hair and sparkling blue eyes. She’s flower crowns and maxi dresses, walking barefoot on the beach.
“Listen to me, Soph. You’re smart, funny and beautiful. I would love to have boobs and a butt like yours. You might only be smoking a couple of cigarettes a day because you think it’s going to make you look better but you’re actually risking it making you a whole lot worse. Do you really want to risk losing your gorgeous curves to cancer, your hair to chemotherapy or your legs to amputation?”
LOLA
Do you ever think that the universe is trying to give you a sign that you should do something that you really don’t want to do? Well, I don’t need the universe to butt into my life because unfortunately my mostly well-meaning (the jury’s still out on my sister) but incredibly nosy family are already there. You’d think that losing a limb would cut me some slack but nope.
Later that night, I’m practicing with my shiny, new accessory – my prosthetic – while Sierra, being the loving, supportive sister that she is, scoffs popcorn and makes fun of my attempts to walk without assistance.
“Sierra, stop making fun of your sister,” Mum calls as she walks past the open door on her way to the kitchen.
“How do you know I’m making fun of her?” Sierra asks, already getting all worked up. I don’t know what she’s got planned for when she finishes high school but she’d make an awesome lawyer because she can literally argue anything. I certainly wouldn’t want to be up against her in a courtroom.
Mum pops her head around the door, “because I know you, baby girl. I carried you in my tummy for nine months.”
Ah, Sierra’s one and only weak spot, parental guilt. “Ugh, I can’t win when she says something like that, can I?” She flops back down on the sofa.
“Nope,” I giggle and then quickly stop when I almost lose my balance.
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to Hawaii?” she asks, turning on her side to face me.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. I’ve been trying so hard not to resemble a cartoon animal whether it’s hopping up and down like a kangaroo or flailing about like a baby deer on ice for the first time whenever I try and walk that I haven’t thought too much about what I’m going to do afterwards.
I think about the photo I saw of Zev kissing that skanky beeyotch and I know one thing for sure – if I do go back to Oahu, it will only be after I’ve got my act together on this darn prosthetic because I’m definitely not facing Zev Montgomery at anything less than a hundred and fabulous percent. He’s going to regret the day he ever screwed me over.
“I’m bored,” Sierra grumbles, “you haven’t fallen over once yet and that’s the only reason I’m here.”
“Thanks, sis,” I stick my tongue out at her, “I love you too.”
“I know,” her dark eyes sparkle with mischief. “We could always play Kiss Marry Avoid.”
“Haven’t you got any friends your own age you could play these silly games with?”
Of course, she completely ignores me. “I’ll go first.”
“Ezra, Noah and…” Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. I try to cut her off by asking who Ezra is?
She rolls her eyes at me, “your prom date, duh!”
“Ugh, you’re such a little stalker. I’m seriously freaked out that you can remember the name of the boy I went to prom with. Anyway, I don’t think it counts as a date if he disappears and you catch him snogging his ex-girlfriend halfway through the dance.”
“Stop trying to distract me,” Sierra giggles, “so it’s Ezra, Noah or Zev?”
Ugh, how is it possible that I was only with Zev for like a small percentage of the time I was with Noah and yet I don’t have a single reaction to hearing Noah’s name but hearing Zev’s name feels like a sucker punch to the gut?
I look down at myself and remember that I’m a total badass, I can almost walk on one leg unassisted and so I refuse to let Zev’s betrayal make me feel weak.
“If that’s my choice then I’m doomed,” I laugh. “Ezra was a jerk, Noah was a coward and Zev was…”
Sierra looks at me and it’s at times like these that I realise that much to my absolute horror we do share the same DNA because it’s like she knows what I’m thinking but can’t say out loud. “He’s the love of your life.” At least the annoying little brat doesn’t sound like she’s gloating. I force myself to take a deep breath, squashing the hurt down like a deflated bouncy castle in my gut until it’s almost manageable and only then do I trust myself to speak. “I was going to say liar and cheater.”
“That girl he was kissing…”
I give Sierra a death-glare, “are you seriously starting this with me right now?”
“I’m just saying,” she holds her hands up, “I did some digging, she’s a z-list actress and she’s got a really bad reputation.”
“Don’t s
lut-shame,” I frown, “if she has, more fool him.”
“You don’t think that you should talk to him, give him chance to explain?”
“Sierra, I know you love those sappy romance novels almost as much as Mum does but not every bad guy is redeemable, OK? What could he possibly say that could explain his behaviour since I left Oahu? Oh, I fell and my lips just happened to collide with my ex-girlfriend’s and it totally wiped my memory which is why I haven’t tried contacting you for well over a month.”
“At least then you’d know for sure that he was a dumbass.”
“I don’t need to talk to him again to know that he’s a dumbass. He let me go, didn’t he?” I try for sass but it doesn’t work when I stumble and end up sprawled face first across the coffee table.
LOLA
The following afternoon, after my PT session, Dad and I try to recreate the good, old days and watch the Premier League highlights on the TV.
You’d think as an ex-pro that my dad would be really into watching the sport he used to make a career out of and for a few years after he retired, he was. He was even a TV pundit for a couple of matches when we went back to England for the holidays but something happened when I was about twelve or thirteen. I don’t remember the details but there was a big scandal about Manchester Rovers, the club he’d played for from when he was a small boy right up until we left England for the U.S. After that it was like football didn’t really exist for him anymore.
I want to give him a hug as he sits down on the sofa next to me because I can tell that he’s only doing it for me and I want to tell him that he really doesn’t have to put himself through all of this.
I’m about to suggest we do something else when they go through the line-up for the West Ham vs Tottenham game. “And out on the left wing, we have Noah Yoakam.” I’ve lived in the U.S. since I was seven but it still cracks me up listening to the American commentators discuss what they call “soccer”. What they call “football” mostly involves using your hands, go figure!
