AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He was a new person today. I don’t know. It’s like he grew up overnight or something. I’ve seen grown-ass humans be the biggest children. I thought he might be like that forever. This is one time I don’t mind being wrong. He stepped up so huge. I know he was freaking out in the moment. I’m not going to lie. I would be too.”
“I don’t know, Dylan. You might surprise yourself.”
“You don’t know how true that statement is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you, I think.” I lean forward to speak to the driver. “Can you make a right here? I’d like to have you drop us off at the auditorium on NYU campus.”
He nods in agreement as Eli pulls me off his shoulder to force me to look at him. “What are you doing?”
“Working through something.”
We get dropped off on campus. Eli hands my crutches to me and after the cab pulls away, I ask him to follow and trust. I hope the security team is still on the same schedule. Chuck was on night watch the entire time I was on campus all four years. When I needed extra rehearsal time, he’d sneak me into the big stage after hours, no questions asked. I need that to be the case tonight too.
Like clockwork, he’s coming up the sidewalk alongside the auditorium as we approach. The look on his face is of concern for me. I hug him quickly and ask for time in the theater. He’s never questioned my needs before, and he doesn’t now.
Chuck heads to the light booth in the back as I take my time in the near dark to walk down the aisle to the stage. I can hear the key in the lock, the lights as they fire, and the buzz they make as the beams make it show ready.
“Viper, you still haven’t told me what we’re doing here.”
I toss my crutches to the carpet at the base of the staircase and begin to climb them one by one without assistance. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to dance.”
“What? Dylan, you can’t.”
“Why not? Why can’t I try? You’ve been encouraging me for weeks to do just that. I want to try today. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing’s wrong with that. I just don’t want you to get hurt even worse.”
“Eli, I’m already hurting. I want to feel something out there, even if it’s painful. My physical therapist said I should do what feels good. This feels good to me, Eli. It’s the first time I don’t feel terrified. If I’m terrified, I’ll get hurt. If I’m only scared, I know it’s the right thing.”
Eli stares at me from the first row for a few seconds before joining me on stage. My limp is still noticeable, my limbs are tight. I roll out my neck and my ankles before I ask my husband for one thing. “Play something you know will make me move.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elijah
I know why she wants to be here in this place. I know why she’s passionate. I don’t know what the significance of today or this exact moment is. I pledged her my support. She’ll have it.
Dylan pulls the sweatshirt off her body. She’s left beautiful as always in her bralette and leggings. She ponders removing her flexible brace, but stops short. The freedom that could provide might be a miracle or a disaster. I know she thinks she won’t move as well, but I think her walking is a work of art.
I don’t want her to feel like I’m staring. I keep an eye on her movement while I’m dialing through the music on my phone. I have a special playlist in here that’s just hers. Every piece of music she’s ever danced to in group, solo, or simply for me is in one place. I use it as a catalog of memories to be with her when I can’t be.
I could use the piece from the first time I saw her in the Hamptons. I could use the piece she created for the charity luncheon. I could use the sad lyrical piece from the first time Wes, Hayley, and I saw her in her senior show. As the lyrics state, something always brings me back to you. That’s true with this campus, this auditorium, these feelings, and this song.
I cue up “Gravity” by Sara Barielles. The lilting two first chords have Dylan looking in my direction. Her face is a mixture of so many emotions. I can see the joy at hearing something familiar. I can see the faintest smile at the connection to this stage and us. I can clearly see the questioning of why this song then the overarching emotion reading as pure fear.
“Move, Viper,” I tell her.
I don’t want to give this kind of tough love. I want to be able to watch her soar back to life on her own. I need it to be her choice. However, I won’t stand by and watch her give up either. That’s not who she is, and I won’t allow it to become her.
She doesn’t move by the beginning of the chorus. I stop the music before I set my jacket down. With my phone in my hand, I cross the stage to her. She’s barely moved from the spotlight and she’s crying.
“Viper, if you’re crying because you’re in pain, I’ll accept that. What I can’t let you do is cry out of fear. You’re my fearless wonder. You do things people only dream of, including me. When I think I can’t, I think of you. Your picture is next to the definition of perseverance.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be.”
I whisper in her ear, “Yes, it should.” I place the phone down on the floor in front of us. I press play one more time and turn the volume up. At first, I take her hand with the first beats of the music, then I move behind her. I press my body tight to her back and place my hands at her hips.
