"It was three weeks before the show opened." My chest hurts saying this out loud.
"Your mom said it was a delivery truck?"
Again, I nod. Dr. Rappaport's been trying to talk about this for weeks, Holly visits, and she gets me spilling my guts. Sort of.
"Oh my God. What do you remember from it?"
"Not much. I remember pain and then waking up two months later."
"Two months? Holy shit."
"I need water," I say, pushing away from the table to get some from the water cooler.
Rose comes with me, holding my hand as we slowly make it over to the cooler.
"So two months you were in a coma?"
"A medically induced coma. I had a lot of infections and a bad head injury."
"Is that why you didn't talk for so long?"
"I think that was psychological. Something about it being selective or conversion," I say slowly, softly. "They rattled off so many reasons."
"Then why are you talking now? So low, but you're talking."
"I don't know. Doctor said I hit the next stage or something."
"Next stage?"
"Anger."
"You? Angry? I don't believe that. You don't look angry."
"I'm happy to see you, Holly, but I'm not happy," I admit, sitting back down at the table. "In fact, for the first time ever, I wanted to punch something today. Yesterday...I had to be restrained."
"Oh my God," she says of my being restrained. Then she looks down at my lap. "Can I see it?” she asks carefully.
Reluctantly, I fold up my yoga pants and show Holly my metal leg...plastic foot attached.
"It's not so bad, Rose. Your pants cover it. But, you can never wear shoes again?"
Shoes are the least of my worries. I can never dance again. "This isn't my permanent leg. I'm told that one's much prettier," I say bitterly.
"At least you don't have to try to find a monster shoe to fit that thing into," she says, referring to the ugly foot attached to my metal robot leg.
Rolling down my pants, I say, "I can never dance again, Holly."
She closes her eyes, and I get the feeling she already realizes this.
"I don't know, Rose. People run marathons with no legs. I think if it's something you want badly enough, you can do it. Besides, I was researching online after your mother came by the other day. Did you know there was a double amputee on Dancing with the Stars?"
That's right, I'd forgotten about Amy Purdy.
"Yup. And then I looked some more. There are a lot of dancers who have one or no legs."
"Ballerinas?"
"I think so. Yeah." She looks me in the eyes and gets so close I think she's going to kiss me. "This isn't a prison sentence. You can still plan the life you wanted. You just have to change the way you go about it."
"When did you get so...encouraging?”
"Rose. I love psychology. Love it. The best decision I ever made was to switch from finance to psych and social services. I love...helping people, I guess you can say." Holly bops her head from side to side, smiling modestly.
"That's right. You wanted to switch last time I saw you. I forgot about that."
"You're forgiven. You had other things on your mind," she jokes, before turning all serious. "Cooperate, Rose. Your mom said you haven't been. I miss you. I want you back at school."
"School? I haven't even thought about it."
"It's probably the best thing for you. Even if it's one or two classes to start. You can live with me and Griff."
"Griffin?"
"Yeah, I took him up on his offer to move into his house."
"In his billiard room?"
"No, no. Hurley moved out before the summer. I took his room. And then Braden transferred to Monmouth this semester, so you'd be able to have his room."
I start to clench my fists, feeling agitated at the thought of my future. "Holly. You're...you're going too fast for me. I'm just trying to find my way back home right now."
Seeing Holly makes me happy, but it's also making me sad and very edgy. She makes it sound so simple. It's not simple at all.
"Well, when you’re ready...I'm gonna talk to Griffin, so...keep it in mind at least?"
"I will. Thanks."
"I love you, Rose," Holly says, taking me in a big bear hug, so different than she was last May.
"Love you too, Holl."
"They told me you have PT at one. Can I walk you there?"
"I'd like that. Thanks."
14
BEN
Dinner is quiet today. For me, at least. Many of the resident patients had visitors, and Johnny and Rose were nowhere to be found. Johnny wasn’t in our room when I got back from PT, and I haven't seen him since. I thought Rose would be here, because, well, I just thought she would. Then again, maybe it was just me hoping she'd be here.
Instead of going back in my room for the night, I put on Dumb and Dumber in the lounge area and settle in to watch. The leather recliner couches are comfortable, and there's nothing better to do. I've been ignoring texts from the guys, because they're just busting my balls about being in an old folk's home, and I don't really want to be dealing with that shit right now. So, I decide to text Holly, who I haven't talked to since the last day of summer classes.
Me: Hey stranger. Whassup?
About fifteen minutes later, my phone pops.
Holly: Hey. Long time no see. How's the knee?
Me: Good. How's school? Meet any new psych majors as interesting as me?
Right away, she answers.
Holly: Are u kidding? No one holds a candle to u.
Me: Except that bartender of yours?
Holly: Well, he's not a psych major. Jealous?
Me: A little. Lol
Holly: We'll have to get you a hot chick.
Me: Found one. Just trying to get her to notice me.
Holly: How can she not notice you? You're HOT.
Me: Hot? Yeah, well, this one's got a lot of other things to deal with than some horny guy. Besides, she's...fragile.
Holly: Fragile? What's she made of...glass?
Me: No. But she has been sort of broken. I'd like to be the one to help put her back together. ;)
Holly: You pansy.
Me: STFU
Holly: You text your mother with that phone?
Just then, Rose walks in and takes a seat on the couch adjacent to me. I text Holly.
Me: Gotta go. TTYL.
I shut off my phone and stick it in my pocket. Then I get up and move to Rose's couch. "I can change the movie if you want."
"No. Dumb and Dumber is good."
"How'd it go today?" I notice her fists aren't clenched like they were earlier.
"Okay. Making progress."
"I can tell. You're speaking a little louder."
Her hand flies to her mouth. "I'm sorry."
"No, no," I remove her hand from her mouth and keep it in mine, "you're not talking too loudly. This morning, I could barely hear you."
She looks at our hands on the couch between us, and I wonder if I am being inappropriate, so I let her hand go.
"So...do you go to school? High school? College?"
Her straight, perfectly white teeth all show when she laughs. "High school? Do I look that young?"
Thank God she's not in high school. "Well, you do look young, but I was kind of hoping you’d say college."
Once again, a brighter peachy pink colors her ivory cheeks, making them look like she's been in the sun. I like watching her blush. "I'm a senior, well, supposed to be a senior, in college, this year."
"Now that, I wasn't expecting. You look younger than a senior."
"Thank you? Maybe?" She smiles.
"It's a compliment," I assure her. "You're an older woman. I like that."
"Older?"
"I'm a junior. I'm twenty-one. Well, on November first, I'll be twenty-two."
"I'm twenty-two. Won't be twenty-three until March."
"So you're not too much old
er. Can I ask what you're studying?"
"Education. And," she looks down, hesitant, "and...dance."
She's a dancer.
With one leg.
Now I get it.
I don't want to say, "I'm sorry." That may make her feel bad. So, instead, I ask, "Elementary or secondary?"
"Elementary."
"Good choice. Little children are less evil."
"I don't know about that," she jokes, and I'm starting to get a glimpse of the real Rose. "What do you study?"
"Sports psychology."
"Oh. You're a baseball player. Makes sense."
"Can't play ball forever, right?" I hope that wasn't the wrong thing to say.
"Nope. Guess not. There's an age limit in Major League Baseball, right?"
I relax. She doesn't seem to be getting offended or teary or anything. "Pretty much. Once you've hit your late thirties, you're pretty much done. Although, Jamie Moyer pitched until he was forty-six, so..."
"Forty-six. Wow."
"But that's not the norm, so sports psychology is my back-up."
"You're pretty sure you're making the Majors, huh?" she asks quietly.
I shrug. "Not positive. No. I've been scouted though, so it's looking good. I'm not full of myself or anything, please don't get the wrong idea, it's just...well, it's all I really wanted most of my life."
She nods. "I get it," she says quietly.
"I realize things can change." I feel like shit right now. The last thing I want to do is bring her down now that she's finally smiling a little.
"So, you'll be Dr. Falco, the sports psychologist?"
I laugh, partly from relief from the ball-playing thing, partly...no, just relief. I'm relieved she's changed the subject. "Or just Ben. By the way, how'd you know my last name?"
"I heard the guy say it this morning."
"Ah. What's your last name?"
"Duncan."
"Rose Duncan. Nice."
"Actually, it's Rosalie. But everyone just calls me Rose."
"Rosalie's a pretty name."
"Thanks. It's okay...Benito."
"Are you making fun of my name?"
She shakes her head, but smiles. "No."
"You're in a good mood tonight."
She shrugs. "Faking it."
"Really?"
"I don't know. My friend came to see me today, so..." She fiddles with her fingers, and I notice she still hasn't clenched them all night.
"And you were happy to see her? Him?"
"Her. Holly."
"Holly. Really? I have a friend named Holly. That's who I was texting when you came in."
"Yeah? Can't be my Holly, she doesn't know any Bens."
This makes me laugh for real. "Oh. You know every person your friend knows?" I ask jokingly.
"Well, in the past three years I've known her, she's never mentioned anyone by the name of..." She pauses, her face scrunched up in thought. After several seconds, she says, "Wait a minute. Ben. Psychology. Did you take a psychology class this summer?"
Shit. "I did. Hunter Hill?"
"Oh my God. Are you...a ‘nice’ guy?" she says with quotes. "Like ‘apple-pie’ nice?"
I crack up. Slap my thigh and laugh out loud. "Holy shit. Holly. Yup." I shake my head at the reference of apple pie. Holly always thought of me as the all-American boy. "Gotta be the same Holly."
"Holly Buchanan?" we both say at the same time.
"Oh my gosh, she was just here. She didn't say...does she know you're here?"
I shake my head. "No. She knows I had surgery. Knows I'm recovering. She doesn't know I'm here though."
"Wow," she says, still fiddling with her fingers. "So you guys met in psych class?"
"Yeah. Actually, we met online during registration."
"Oh. I think her text said something like that. Back in June..." She trails off and shakes her head. This time I notice her fingers stop fiddling and disappear inside her fists, which are rested on her lap. "She texted me that she met you," she continues, her eyes glassy. "I think she was excited to have you as a friend." Rose smiles even though her eyes are still bubbling over. "Otherwise she never would have mentioned you." Now she chuckles. "Holly's like that. Only the real important stuff is worth her breath."
I nod. "That sounds like Holly."
Rose is fighting back emotions, but I give her courage for staying on the couch. Like she said before, she's making progress.
"So...you and she have been friends the last three years?"
"Yeah, she was my dorm mate and became my best friend." She nods, sitting still and unnerved. The only thing giving her away is her unmoving and tightly-clenched tiny hands.
"Cool."
"Did you live in the dorms?"
"No. I lived in a house with some teammates. This past summer, though, I rented a bedroom from some old lady."
"Really? Did your teammates bust you about that?"
"They didn't know. As far as they were concerned, I went home for the summer."
"Oh."
"That's how I became friends with Holly. All my friends were gone for the summer."
"Got it."
"So you live in the dorms when you're in school, where do you live otherwise?"
"Wantage."
"Wantage? Is that in New Jersey?"
She hesitates. "Up North. Near PA."
"Oh. I'm near PA, but I'm more toward Philly. Cherry Hill."
Her fists are still, but her knuckles are stark white. It's starting to make me nervous.
"Tell me about Wantage."
"Um..." She shakes her head no. "I..."
"It's fine," I cut her off, recognizing her discomfort with the subject. "You can tell me about it another time." I'm stumbling over what to talk about. I can't move too fast; she's vulnerable. Still trying to make her way back to normalcy. So I bring the conversation back to Dumb and Dumber. "You know, we've missed a lot of the movie. Are you up for starting it over? Watching it uninterrupted from the beginning?"
Rose doesn't answer right away, but when she does, she says yes, and I'm just happy to be sitting in silence next to her. Under normal circumstances, I may have tried to hold her hand or slide my hand behind her on the couch so I can slip it over her shoulder.
But these aren't normal circumstances.
And I don't want to push her away.
15
ROSE
I hate being so emotional. He only asked about my hometown.
But I want to be home so badly, I couldn't bring myself to talk about it. He must think I'm such a freak.
At least I didn't run away again. I'm trying. But it's hard. Especially because he's so cute. I sat down, purposely, on the left side of the couch, hoping I could lean my elbow on the armrest to cover the scar on my face with my hand. But then Ben moved to my couch. And in order to look at him, I had to turn my body. Which meant I couldn't lean my elbow on the armrest, leaving my ugly scar uncovered. I could have held my hand over my face, without leaning against anything, but I was aware that would have made me look even sillier. So I sucked it up and tried not to think about it.
Now that we are just watching the movie, I'm able to lean my elbow on the armrest. Not that it matters anymore anyway. I wish I could put makeup on to cover it, but I don't think anything I have at home is strong enough.
The movie is funny enough to alleviate any tension I put between us, and the rest of the night is actually enjoyable. We laugh at the same jokes, and I even notice Ben shift a couple of times to move closer to me. At least I think that's what he was doing. The fact that he hasn't seemed turned off by me yet makes me feel a little less self-conscious. Toward the last half of the movie, Ben pauses it to microwave some popcorn, and when he comes back, he's sitting so close to me that only the bag of popcorn is between us.
Now I'm feeling things I haven't felt in a long time, and I'm self-conscious in a different sort of way. Why is he being nice to me? Is it just because here, I'm the only girl his age? There's Kimberlee,
but she doesn't spend time in the rec room. She has so many doctors looking after her that she's too busy to hang out.
"I'd have suggested chocolate pudding," Ben jokes, "but popcorn's more a movie thing."
I laugh, and we both stick our hand in the popcorn at the same time, but I move my hand before his touches mine. And once that happens, Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels become invisible to me. Sure, I'm pretending to watch the silly movie; I laugh when Ben laughs. But my stomach is in knots, because suddenly he's become more than just the cute baseball player with a knee injury. He's become the cute baseball player with a knee injury whom I wish I could date.
If only I had two legs.
Liking a guy who may like you back usually results in a date. A date, into dating. Dating, into an intimate relationship. Which means sex. How could I have sex with only one leg? And it's not even the physical awkwardness I'm thinking about. It's that a boy, whom I like, would see me...like that.
Before I'm even aware of it myself, Ben says, "Shit, Rose, you're bleeding."
I look down, and there's blood on the cuff of my white shirt. My fingernails were jammed so far into my palm that I broke the skin. And now...on top of being self-conscious...I'm mortified.
I hadn't even realized Ben had left, but he's back with a few tissues and standing in front of me. He goes down on one knee and takes hold of my right hand to cover the nail marks with the tissues.
Feeling too tense and uncomfortable, I pull my hand back, and he gives the tissues to me instead of taking care of it for me.
"It doesn't look bad," he says, sitting back down on the couch.
Pressing the tissues to my hand, I tell him, "I think I better get back to my room."
He nods and stands, but tucks his hands in his sweatpants pockets.
I crumple the tissue, hold it inside my bleeding hand, and lift myself off the couch with the help of my cane.
Ben stands there, looking unsure if he should help me, so I just say, "I'll see you tomorrow or something. Thanks...for the movie."
Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) Page 7
