Tremor

by Tonya Plank

  We finished and I went home for lunch. I thought of stopping by Infectious Rhythm to see Arabelle, but I decided against it. She didn’t need me bothering her, and I owed it to Ranger to spend more time with him. Or else get him a proper walker. I’d see Arabelle tonight for a rehearsal after my performance.

  I walked up Hollywood Boulevard to a burger joint, and ordered a veggie burger made of black beans, a large order of sweet potato fries, and a bottomless Coke. It wasn’t the healthiest dinner in the world, but I needed the caffeine, carbs, and sugar to get myself together for the performance tonight.

  I drove back to the theater and used the pre-performance time to do some in-place cardio—jumping jacks, running on the treadmill, and stretching at the barre in my changing room. Performance time was called and I put on my costume, feeling much, much better. Almost like my regular self—almost.

  But almost, it turned out, wasn’t good enough. I remember waiting in the wings in the rafters, the lights off, waiting for my cue to swing out. I remember hearing the cue—the Tarzan call. I swung out, did a back and forth across the stage once, then twice, then the third time I lifted myself up and stood on the bar, holding the sides. The fourth time I lifted my leg in arabesque while doing my macho push-ups on the top bar. I remember the crowd going wild, as they always did. Ladies will always go nuts over pecs.

  And then, I saw Pam getting ready for her turn across the stage. It was my last swing. I was supposed to balance on one foot, holding my arms out for balance. It would be a crazy hard trick for a newbie. But it was one, by this point, I could do in my sleep. I lifted my arms, lifted one leg, and sailed half way across the stage gripping the bar with my toes. I remember seeing Pam’s face, but thinking of Arabelle, wishing it was her up here with me. I was thinking of flying toward her, reaching out to her, reaching her, and lifting her up all the way until I had her small, delicate little foot in my hand, and propelling her high above my head, standing. It would be the most beautiful lift in the world. Hard as hell, but too beautiful and glorious to be hard-looking. But then I realized that was our competition dance we were rehearsing, and the part I’d wanted her to do. The part that she hadn’t yet agreed to do, because of the aforesaid difficulty. If only she’d trust me—just trust me—and let me do it. Those were my last thoughts before I felt the bar below me give, and I flew through the air with no support.

  Next thing I knew, I was being lifted onto a stretcher by two men, who were telling everyone, “make way, make way.” I was in and out of consciousness.

  “Sir, don’t move. You’ve fallen. We’re taking you to the hospital,” one of them said when he saw my eyes open. At least, I think that’s what he said. Then I fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until a while later.

  Chapter 24

  Arabelle

  I was in the middle of my private lesson with the dreaded Jones. I looked at the clock, willing the lesson to be over soon. It would be about an hour and a half until Jett showed up. I was trying to teach Jones how to turn me without nearly breaking my wrist. He held on so tightly, as if I might get away from him. My frustration was starting to make my wrist tremble.

  “You need to give me the space to turn,” I said, stopping him mid-step. I didn’t need the tremor back.

  “I don’t mind if you bump into me, honey!” He laughed.

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I mean.” This guy was insufferable.

  Suddenly, Alessia flew through the door and walked quickly toward me. Not like her at all to interrupt a private lesson. She looked right at me, her pupils big and intense. Then the tremble came back big time, snaking its way from my wrist up to my shoulder. I knew what she had to say wasn’t good.

  “I’m so sorry, I need to interrupt this lesson,” she said looking at Jones. “We’ve had an accident—”

  “Oh no, what’s wrong with Jett?” I asked.

  She looked confused. “How did you—”

  “What is it?” I asked again, my whole arm shaking so badly I had to grab and steady it with the other.

  * * *

  I opened the door of the Hollywood Hospital emergency room, Kendra right at my back. I’d run into her on my way out of the studio, apparently with an obviously distressed look covering my face. She took one look at me and insisted on driving me. Belinda had called Alessia since she thought Jett may have lessons tonight that needed canceled. She’d been out sick. I was supposed to find his replacement partner, named Pam.

  “Pam?” Kendra called out. Yelled out, was more like it. I was thankful she was at my side. I’m not sure I could have handled this alone. The memory of Willem’s sister calling me, telling me there’d been an accident, of arriving at the hospital and seeing her distraught face and knowing something horrible had happened, all flooded my mind. I was glad I had Kendra to talk for me.

  A young woman with long, ruby-red hair walked quickly toward us.

  “Arabelle?” she said, looking at Kendra, then at me.

  “Yes,” I said. “What happened?” I felt my voice crack. Kendra squeezed my hand.

  “He has a broken foot,” she said.

  I breathed, maybe for the first time since we got in Kendra’s car. “A broken…foot?”

  It didn’t sound so horrible, but the look on her face indicated otherwise. “And a concussion. The doctor is going to talk to you about it all.”

  I breathed in as much air as I could. “What happened?” I said, exhaling.

  “He was flying across stage on the trapeze in our opening routine. I’m not sure what happened, but he was standing, doing the daredevil trick where he’s on one leg and no hands, and his eyes got glassy. And…” She took a breath.

  “What?” I nearly screamed.

  “He fell. Fortunately, he was still on the part of the floor that was covered with the double mat trampoline or it could have been much worse.” She reached out to me. I then realized my tremor was back in full force. My hand shook all the way from my pinkie finger to my ear lobe. “He came down on the foot pretty bad. Twisted his ankle and broke a bone. And even though he didn’t hit his head on anything hard, he got concussed—probably from the height of the fall, the doctor said. He was out for a while.”

  “A while?” I could hardly think. Now I felt my head shaking back and forth as well, as if the tremor had climbed all the way to the top of my body.

  “A few minutes. The paramedics arrived and he came to then. He was in and out of consciousness on his way to the hospital. But he’s conscious now. He’s going to be okay, Arabelle.” She squeezed my shaking hand.

  But I couldn’t get her words “could have been much worse” out of my mind.

  “When can I see him?”

  She looked around. “I don’t see the doctor, but I will definitely let you know when he comes back out.”

  “Come on, honey. Let’s sit down,” Kendra said, walking me to one of the few empty chairs. I didn’t hear anything else she said, though I knew she kept talking. I could only hear the words, “Blunt force trauma…impact…pronounced deceased on arrival…” My eyes stung, my stomach ached, and my head began to throb. Then I felt a liquid ball rising in the pit of my stomach. It was making its way up to my esophagus. I pulled free of Kendra, held a hand up to her as if asking her to excuse me, and ran to the bathroom. I just made it to a stall when I fell to the floor and let everything come up. I felt faint. I put my hands on the toilet seat for support. I breathed deeply, and then retched again—several more times. I didn’t know I even had all of that in me.

  “Hey, hon, are you okay? Arabelle?” It was Kendra. “You’ve been in here for a while. That you?” She knocked on my stall.

  I nodded, stupidly. Of course she couldn’t see me, my face anyway.

  “Hon, let me in.”

  I managed to pull myself up, turn around, and unlatch the door.

  “Oh, wow,” she said upon seeing my face. She waved her hand about in front of her. I realized I hadn’t flushed the toilet. I turned around and kicked
the flusher, wobbling on one foot.

  “Okay, take it easy,” Kendra said, catching my fall. She walked me to the mirror and turned the cold water on. I splashed my face. My skin felt like I was burning up with fever.

  “He’s going to be all right. You know that, right? Jett is going to be all right.” Her words made it clear she knew what was going through my mind.

  I nodded. But I couldn’t go through this again. I just couldn’t. Jett was the type who needed to be free to do daredevil stunts. I couldn’t hamper him. His was a soul that needed to soar. I couldn’t stand in his way. I just couldn’t. But I also couldn’t deal with accidents that could so easily result in tragedies. Pam had made it clear this could have easily been much, much worse. Jett could have ended up like Willem.

  Kendra and I walked back out to the lobby.

  “Here she is,” I heard Pam call out. She was standing with a man with long, dark hair, who seemed way too young to be a doctor.

  “You can go in and see him as soon as the other person is finished. We only allow one visitor in the room at a time.” When his eyes caught mine, he looked down, seemingly embarrassed for me. I probably had vomit on my lip or something. I’m sure I looked the classic wreck.

  “Wait,” I said as he began to walk off. “Other person?”

  “Yes, his sister, I think.”

  Sister? I didn’t even know Jett had a sister. I guess I didn’t know that much about him.

  Chapter 25

  Jett

  I had a bad headache and was queasy from the pain meds, but when the nurse told me a lady was here to see me, I felt better immediately. Until she walked in. It wasn’t my Arabelle. It was Francesca. My sister.

  “Oh my God,” she dramatized, her arms reaching toward the ceiling, as she ran to my bed.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, bluntly.

  “Is that any way…Jett…I…we’re all just so horrified over this.”

  “Was there anyone else out there to see me?” I asked, still confused as to why Francesca was even in L.A., and wondering where Arabelle was.

  “What? No. Not that I know of.”

  My heart sank. Arabelle didn’t come? Did she not know? I needed her. I needed to hold her, feel her soft skin on mine. Maybe word never got to the studio. I didn’t know exactly how long I had been here. And now that my sister had really made me come to, I realized I didn’t know where my cell phone was.

  “What are you doing here, Francesca?”

  “What do you mean? Jett, I love you. Hello, I’m your sister.”

  “No, I mean in L.A. Why aren’t you in New York?”

  “Jett, are you serious? Oh no, do you have memory loss? You do, don’t you!” Her gaze widened, making her huge angry eyes bulge even more than normal. I didn’t get along well with my sister, to put it mildly.

  I shrugged. Maybe I did have memory loss, regarding my sister anyway.

  “Oh no.” She took a deep, melodramatic breath. “Well, I know I told you, or Dad told you, that I’ve been doing a reality TV show where we help people find their dream homes.”

  Right as she said it I remembered Dad mentioning it. I hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to that conversation, since it involved—once again—trying to get me take a hand in his business and give up this ridiculously so-called ‘girly dance career.’ It was a conversation we’d had ad nauseam. You’re such a showoff. Don’t you want to be on TV? I remembered him saying. I’d learned to completely tune him out. “Yeah, now I remember Dad saying something.”

  She pursed her lips. I knew she wanted to chew me out for not taking greater interest in their business, or in her career. But she couldn’t. Not right now. “Oh Jett,” she said, regaining control of her facial expression. “The doctor says you could have been killed. You literally fell within an inch of your life.”

  “Stop being so dramatic—” I began.

  She held a hand up. “Don’t shush me. Let me speak. This is serious. This job is too risky; you put your life in danger. Jett, how much money do you make? It’s so not worth it. You can make so much more in the company—”

  Now I held a hand up. I didn’t want to hear it. And I wasn’t going to. “No. If you’re going to talk like this, you have to leave, Fran. I’m not hearing it.”

  “Jett, you can be on TV, like me. Don’t you realize how awesome that would be? You’re so hot. Think of how many girls you’d get having so much more exposure. How can you not want that? You, of all people!”

  If she wasn’t my sister, and if she wasn’t a woman, I’d seriously want to smack her. I mean, I wouldn’t. But she just grated on my nerves so. She made my headache so much worse.

  “You think I’m a man-whore? I dance just to get girls? That that’s all my life is about? I’m an artist, Fran.”

  She laughed. Loud and hard. It was more like a witch’s cackle.

  “I’m sorry, but you fly around on a stage in a loincloth—”

  This was it. She wasn’t insulting me right now. Or ever. I was done with her. I had been done long before, but somehow she’d managed to get herself into my hospital room. “This conversation is over. This visit is over.”

  “Oh no, Jett, don’t do that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. I know how seriously you take that…show.” She’d had to search her little brain for the last word. And she said it like she’d say ‘trash,’ with a look of wholehearted disgust overtaking her face.

  “Nurse,” I yelled.

  “Jett, stop it. Talk to me.”

  “Nurse!” I yelled more loudly.

  “Jett, stop.” Fran’s face was beginning to redden. I was embarrassing her.

  Good. “Nurse!” I said more loudly.

  There was some commotion outside and then the door opened. A porcelain-faced, blue-eyed beauty peeked in. My Arabelle. Our eyes connected and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She looked simultaneously sick with nerves and as beautiful as ever.

  “Belle.” I held my arm toward her.

  “Just a moment, Ma’am.” The nurse pulled Arabelle away from the door. “We can only have one visitor at a time,” she said, looking between Fran and me.

  “She’s done,” I said, pointing to Fran.

  “Jett, no, please,” Francesca whined.

  “Done, Nurse.” I looked at the woman in scrubs, her eyes all serious. I raised my arm toward Arabelle again. “I’m ready for my next visitor.”

  “Ma’am?” The nurse looked at Fran, extending her arm toward the door.

  “This conversation isn’t over, Jett. We need to talk about this.”

  I refused to look at Fran, keeping my gaze firmly on Arabelle, who looked down, the blush sweeping across her beautiful face making her look even more angelic.

  Fran sighed and, with a proud lift of her head, walked out. I saw her give Arabelle a once over followed by a little glare on the way out. I snickered and shook my head. Only my sister could fantasize herself superior to someone like Belle.

  “Ma’am,” the nurse said to Arabelle. She walked in, slowly at first, then hurried toward me. Both arms were shaking. The tremor was worse than I’d ever seen it.

  “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what my sister was even doing here. When they told me someone was here, I assumed it was you.”

  She shook her head. “Not your fault at all. I came right when I heard.” Her voice was low and shaky as well. The tremor seemed to have taken over her entire body.

  “I’m okay, Belle. It’s all going to be okay. It’s just a broken foot that will heal in no time. False alarm.” I wrapped my hands around hers, trying to stop the trembling. She nodded, but the light was out of her eyes, and she wouldn’t look directly at me. I knew she was having flashbacks to Willem. “This is really nothing, Belle. Nothing at all. Nothing at all like…nothing at all.” I was a stuttering fool.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. When she opened them again, her beatific blue irises were hard to see through the wetness. She opened her
mouth but nothing came out. She simply shook her head.

  Chapter 26

  Arabelle

  I stayed with Jett for as long as I could. I found it increasingly hard to speak. He kept telling me he was okay, and he was right—he was. For now. I kept seeing Willem lying there, not okay. Not okay at all. And I kept remembering and feeling the mass of extreme emptiness in my core and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same. The nausea kept returning. I had nothing left to throw up but bile, and I somehow willed even that back down. I couldn’t look at Jett. I couldn’t look at his beautiful boyish face, his happy, eager, excited smile brimming with life. Just like Willem’s had been.

  I stopped trying to talk and eventually he stopped trying to make me. I also quit trying to quell the tremor and he followed my lead on that, too. I placed my head on top of his chest and just listened to him breath for a while, until the nurse called me out, ordering him to get some rest.

  Jett protested, but I knew my presence was troubling to him. I know he knew what was going through my mind, through my body. I was disturbing him, and he needed his mind to be at ease so his body would heal.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow morning,” I said. “You need sleep.”

  He shook his head. “But it’s too late right now, Belle.”

  At first I didn’t know what he meant. Too late for us? For me to go through this again? Or did he mean literally—that we couldn’t compete now because of his injury? No matter, I knew deep in my core he was right. I couldn’t take this again.

  “I mean, I don’t want you walking around Hollywood at this hour,” he continued when it was clear I was confused. “It’s too late. You don’t know who’s out there.”