But I’m doingsomething, taking back control, and for now, that has to be enough.
I limp out onto the street. Standing against a lamppost is my prince of darkness, a crooked smile on his face. “How’d it go, champ?”
“What are you doing here?” I thread my arms around his neck and pull him into me for a kiss.
“Came to pick you up. I figured you’d be owie after you got done with PT.”
He’s not wrong, and his consideration, compassion, and empathy are all wrapping themselves around me like a warm hug. When his arms tighten around me, the hot tears that had been pricking my eyes for my PT session, fall freely down my cheeks.
“Didn’t go well?” he mumbles against my head before he kisses my temple.
Shaking my head, I cry harder. “I wish I was David Halberg. Then I could buy a one-way ticket to Australia to go to rehab for a year.” I sob harder against his comforting body right there in the street.
I hadn’t truly accepted that I wasn’t going to dance. I guess I was clinging to shreds of hope that Sven the physical therapist would say, “Hey Edith, your leg is miraculously better.” He’d pat me on the shoulder and tell me to go forth and dance my little heart out.
This fucking blows.
An hour later, Penelope and I are sitting in oversized massage chairs with our feet soaking in water. The warm bubbles tickle my skin. Pen’s head is tipped back, her body shuddering with the force of the massage rolling through her body.
“I’m sorry, Pen.” Grief and shame clogs my throat, thick and goopy like I’ve swallowed a whole pot of Jell-O, and it’s gotten stuck. I haven’t seen her as much as I would have liked recently, or even as much as I should have. I’ve pulled away from her, and I’m hoping that we can find our way back to baseline for our friendship. I miss her.
She holds up a hand, without opening her eyes. “Nope.”
“But—”
“Edith, you suffered an almost life-ending trauma. You survived, and you’ve waded through nightmares, and therapy, and you’re still working through recovery and rehabilitation. You need to mourn, and process, and heal at your own pace.”
When did she get so smart?
“If you needed to turtle into your shell and hide away with your tall drink of delicious Dominican water for a while...” She shrugs. “I get it. Our friendship is stronger than a little distance between us.”
Reaching for my hand, she cracks an eyelid. “Have you called your parents?”
I swallow again, but the thick wad at the back of my throat doesn’t give.
“Edith!”
I shake my head. “Don’t. I wasn’t ready.”
“And then?”
“Then I still wasn’t ready.”
“Do you even know where they are?”
My face burns. I probably should know that, right? “Tropical island somewhere, I’d guess.”
Pen nails me with a stare that tells me she’s about to say something I don’t like. “Stop trying to be a one woman show and let people in to help. I mean, I know you have God-Boy, but your parents could support you if you let them.”
In my defense, though, they haven’t called me either. It’s for the best. “I don’t need the added pressure of getting back to dance before I’m ready, or the constant stress at not knowing what I’m going to do with my life if I never dance again.” I sigh. “Mom has always wanted me to be Odette, she won’t take it well when I tell her I’m not even going to be a swan.”
CHAPTER44
Apollo
(MAY 30TH – DAY 54 POST OP)
“Iwas thinking.”
