Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) (18 page)

I reach for her hands, hold them, and kiss her goodbye. Letting my lips linger a moment or two.

She goes inside, closes the door, I walk back to my car, and I drive back to Totowa in silence, stopping home only to pick up a pair of sweats and my toothbrush.

***

When I get to Johnny's, he's staring out the window again, while Isaiah is reclined watching a movie.

Isaiah is first to acknowledge me. "Hey, Ben."

"Isaiah. Hey, John."

He circles around and he blinks.

"What movie you watching?" I ask them both, figuring they started out watching the movie together, before Johnny lost interest.

"Mission Impossible," Isaiah says. "Netflix."

"Never saw it."

"Neither'd Johnny," Isaiah says, showing no expression. "But I've seen enough. Johnny, if you need me, just beep."

"Beep?"

"He's got a button there on his chair pad to call me."

"Oh."

I toss my bag in the corner and sit on the couch near Johnny. "What's going on, man? Why the sudden change?"

"It's not sudden. I just don't have the energy to pretend anymore."

I nod. "Do you talk to someone about it?"

"I meet with someone. She comes in three times a week. Do I talk? No."

"Why?"

"Talking's not gonna make my arms move. God. Not having use of my legs I can deal with, but do you know what it's like to be in a straitjacket twenty-four seven? That's what it's like. A fucking straitjacket."

I nod again. What more can I say? I don't know what it's like and if I did, I'm sure I'd be as angry as he is. Rose is right. This has to be the normal reaction to his situation.

"You ever think about being caught in a burning building?" he asks, and I'm sure it's rhetorical, so I don't answer. "Well, I do. 'Cause I dream it every night. Every night, I'm trapped. Behind some huge block of steel. Flames are blazing around me. I have nowhere to go. I'm trapped. And I can't get out. I watch the flames creep toward me. It feels like the sun crashes on friggin' top of me. The sun. That's how hot it is. Every night I get caught on fire. Every. Single. Night. I catch on fire. It's like a goddamn episode of Groundhog Day. Only I don't get the girl at the end."

By now, streams of tears are running down both our faces. We’re too caught up in emotions to worry about showing our vulnerabilities to each other.

Silence surrounds us and I'm at a loss for words still. A bird trapped in a cage. With no room to flap his wings. It must be torturous, and I don't even know how to ease his pain.

"I'm so sorry," I finally manage. "Just. So sorry."

"I didn't mean to bring you down. That's why I didn't want you to come back. I'm too tired to pretend it's gonna all get better."

He stares at me. "If you weren't such a good guy, I'd ask you to put a pillow over my head tonight after Isaiah puts me to bed."

My body tenses. I don't know how to respond to that.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't ask that of you." I hear the disappointment in his voice.

"This may sound absurd, but why don't you go to college like you planned?"

"It is absurd. College is not a place for someone like me."

"That's not true. You already have a daily nurse. Let Isaiah help you to classes. I see people in wheelchairs all the time at school."

He blinks his eyes.

"You're so fucking bright, John. The technology is there. Look at the way you maneuver that iPad. Give it a try."

His eyes are cast down, but I can tell he might be thinking about it.

"Take one class in January. Don't matriculate. See if you can handle it."

"I can't."

"Why not? Give me one good reason."

"'Cause I'm still in high school."

"Oh, geez. That's right. You still have your tutor?"

"No."

"No? What happened?"

"I stopped learning. I stopped responding to her. When it finally sunk in that I wasn't getting any better."

"Get her back, John. You still have a brain that functions on the genius level. You can do so much with that. You can still be an engineer. And homework will keep you busy, and you'll...you'll still have a life."

"You make it sound so fuckin' easy, Ben. I'm a goddamn cripple. It ain't gonna be sunshine and roses for me.
Ever
. Just...stop trying to make things better. It's not gonna happen."

I shrug it off. I guess I am simplifying his condition. Rose's too. Maybe I'm not supposed to fix things for the people I love. Maybe I just have to sit here and agree with them.
Yup. Your life will be nothing but suffering. I agree. Your life sucks.

I have a lot to learn.

Until I walk in their shoes I guess...

ROSE

I have no idea why it’s bothering me so much tonight, but it’s killing me to know. Maybe it’s what Johnny said about making new plans. Maybe it’s because Ben looked so disappointed when he realized Johnny had lost hope. Maybe it’s just finally time. I really don’t know, but tonight, I pull out that box, take the leg out of it, and put it on. Tonight, I’ll know for sure.

Even though it’s the middle of the night, with my dancing leg clasped on, I make my way to the studio my dad had built several years ago in the basement. It's complete with ballet barre, wood floor, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. My own haven once upon a time.

The small stereo sitting in the corner is dusty, and my dance compilation CD is still waiting in the player. I turn it on and let the music fill the room, hopefully finding its way back into my soul.

My mind wanders all over the place as I stand at the center of the barre. I do some quick warm-ups and stretches while my dancing life flashes before my eyes. Taunting me is my first recital. My first solo. My first honors performance. My first time competing. My first appearance on Broadway - a rehearsal - the farthest I will ever go.

When the images stop, I catch sight of myself in the murky mirror. With my hand, I streak it, and see the tears on my face. I hadn't even realized I'd been crying.

Sucking in my snot, I go over to my bin of dancing shoes and pull out my old ballet slippers. With trembling hands and a shaky breath, I slide them on my bare...feet? Does a plastic foot count as bare?

My heart races as I stand, looking at my feet. Can I do this without breaking down?

Stepping into the center of the floor, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and wish to God I could travel back in time and go with Jordan to the apartment instead of heading to rehearsal by myself. I may not believe in promises anymore, but a part of me would like to believe in magic.

My eyes still closed, I bring my new foot toward the inside of my good knee and attempt a fouetté turn.

I complete three in a row, but I'm rusty.

I do three more with my right foot on the floor before attempting one on my left.

Just lifting my right foot off the ground causes me to lose my balance, but I right myself and try again. This time, I tuck in my core, breathe deep, and envision myself doing one before I actually do it. Inching my right foot up, I place it into position and...

Fail.

I fall when I attempt the turn.

My ass on the floor, I drop my head in my hands and wonder why the heck I even try.

A few minutes more of sulking, I pick myself up and go to the barre. And practice the fouetté turn without the spin. When I don't get it exactly right, I move on to some easier positions, but not without major disappointment. I spend nearly an hour in the basement, with nothing to show for it, so I take off my slippers, turn off the music, and get back to my room before anyone wakes up and realizes I've been down there. I put my dancing leg away, lotion up my leg, and cry myself to sleep.

***

I know something is wrong the minute I open the door.

His hands are sunk deep into his jeans pockets and his smile lacks mirth.

"Hey, beautiful," he says and kisses me on the cheek.

"Hey," I say back.

"Mind if we keep it low-key tonight?"

"Not at all. You okay? We don't have to do this."

He takes my hand, walks me to his car, and says, "Are you kidding me? Knowing I was seeing you tonight was the only thing keeping me going."

We get in his car and start driving. "I Googled some places around here and found this cute little cafe upstate. It's about thirty minutes away."

"Oh yeah. The Treemont."

"You've been there?"

"No. Beth has. She's mentioned it a few times."

"Good. Your first time will be with me."

Goodness gracious, this makes me blush.

I think he realizes what he just said, because I see him tuck in his lips, and his cheeks look red.

"Are you okay, Ben? You seem sad."

He nods. "I'm okay."

"Things aren't good for Johnny?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"It's gotta be hard."

"Yeah. For you too, I guess."

"For different reasons. But...I don't want to talk about me."

Ben turns on the radio and fusses to find a clear station.

"You're not gonna find much."

He presses a button and One Republic's “Ordinary Human” comes on. "You mind listening to this?"

"No. I like
One Republic
."

That's the last thing we say to each other until we're seated at The Treemont, where the lights are dim and I don't have to worry if he'll see all the makeup covering my scar. "It's nice here. Feels like we should be somewhere in Vermont."

"Yeah. It does. Like one of those bed and breakfasts."

"Definitely."

We look at our menus, and I realize things have become awkward. Maybe it's because I didn't want to talk about me, but I was being honest. He wants to make things better for me. He wants me to just be grateful. Just like my sisters. But I'm not grateful. All I ever wanted to do was dance for an audience. And once I'd fulfilled that, I wanted to teach dance. Now I can't do either. Especially after proving it to myself last night. So I'm going to sulk. Might not be mature of me, but it is what it is. I'll learn to be content on the farm, but I don't want anyone to try and convince me that my life can still be fulfilling. If I can't dance, it won't be.

The waitress takes our order, and now we're sitting there staring at our beverages. I have to cut through the tension. "So...you'll be going to Florida next month. You excited?"

"Well...I'm not excited, but I am looking forward to it."

"Did you have practice this morning?"

"Yeah. Coach finally let me run bases." He smiles.

"Good. How'd that feel?"

"Invigorating." After he says this, his smile drops.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no. It felt good to let loose again."

"Knee's good?"

He shrugs. "Pretty much, yeah. What'd you do today?"

I show him my nails. "Patti insisted we all go for a manicure."

"Peach. They look pretty. Did you all go?"

"Yup. Terri too. To make peace."

"Good. Sisters shouldn't fight."

I crack up. "That's all sisters do. But...we also make up. You have siblings?"

"One sister, one brother. Both older."

"Oh. Nice. What are their names?"

"Maria and Dominic."

"Nice Italian names."

"Johnny wants to die," he blurts, his face sullen again.

"Oh my God."

"He wanted to ask me to put a pillow over his face."

"Oh my God."

"If I wasn't so nice a guy, he said."

I just stare at Ben in disbelief.

"Of course, I can't. I wouldn't do that, but...you think it's that bad that death would be
better
?"

"I don't know, Ben. There was a time I wanted to die. Sometimes...still...I...entertain the idea."

"Oh my God, Rose," he says loudly. "No. You are perfectly healthy and..."

"Ben. Johnny...let's talk about Johnny."

Ben drops his head in his hand and doesn't look at me.

"Ben. Look at me."

He does.

"I don't know what to say about Johnny. I don't even know what to tell you to do."

"Yeah."

Fortunately, the waitress brings our food and we don't have to talk for a bit. I eat my omelet in contemplation of what to talk about to change the mood between us. But then he reaches for my hand. "Don't consider this our first date, Rose. We can do much better."

"It's not so bad."

"It is. And not because of you. Please know that. I just...I can't stop thinking about Johnny. I can't imagine being so depressed."

"Did you know him before rehab?"

"No. But I liked him right away. He's funny. Joked all the time."

"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress asks, picking up our plates. "Dessert? Coffee?"

"Rose?"

"I'll have a cup of tea, please."

"I'll have...coffee's good. Long drive home," he says to me. "Rose. What are you doing tomorrow? Can I come up?"

"Really?"

"I promise. I'll be happier."

"I don't mind if you're sad. I wish you weren't, but..." I trail off, nowhere really to go with that.

"Does that drive-in show movies during the day?"

"Well...no...not dark enough."

"God. I'm so stupid. That's right."

"Plus. I think they stopped showing them now, since it's too cold."

"We can go bowling. Do you bowl?"

"Um...not since...I don't know. We can rent a movie," I suggest. I really don't want to do anything remotely athletic.

"Renting a movie sounds good. Where? I thought rental places were gone."

"Well...we can demand a movie. But can you believe we still have a place that rents movies?"

"What?"

"Yup. At The General Store."

"You have a general store?"

"Yes, sir."

"You really do live on Walton Mountain."

"I don't think the Waltons had video rentals at their general store."

"Ooh...this town's hoppin'," Ben jokes.

"Thank you," we both say to the waitress when she brings our coffee and tea.

"A movie sounds good. I got a load of laundry to do in the morning, I can come up about one...or two, if I sleep late."

"Or...you can do your laundry by us and come up for breakfast. Sunday mornings Mom makes a big breakfast, and Terri's going back tomorrow so she can only flirt with you for an hour or two." I laugh so he knows I'm kidding. Kinda. Sorta.

"Your parents won't mind if I'm there?"

"No. They like you."

"Okay. I can do my laundry at night, though. I won't bring it."

"You can, you know."

"That's okay. What time's breakfast?"

"Usually 'bout ten. After Dad feeds the animals and stuff."

"Sounds fun."

"It isn't, but..."

Ben laughs, then finally takes a sip of his coffee. I'm almost finished with my tea.

"So," he says, "you like One Republic. What other bands you like?"

"Well. Don't tell anyone. Holly would stop being my friend, but...I like country music."

"Of course you do, half-pint."

"A Laura Ingalls' reference now?"

"I'm teasing. But it makes sense you like country music up here in farmland."

"Most of us hillbillies do."

"So who are your favorites?"

"Keith Urban. Hands down. But...I really like them all."

"I've heard of Keith Urban. He's that guy on
Idol
."

I laugh. "Yeah. That's him."

"Who else?"

"Tim McGraw, Zac Brown Band, Eric Church."

"I've heard of Tim McGraw. The dude married to Faith Hill."

"Yup. Who do you listen to...besides One Republic?"

"I'm pretty mainstream. Not too big into music, but I like..."

"Wait. A college guy not into music? That's like a college guy not into booze and sex."

When he raises his eyebrows, it clicks.

"You're not a normal college guy, are you?"

"I think I am."

"You don't drink?"

"I do. I don't make it a routine though."

"And sex?"

"Occasionally, but...I'm not a freak, I promise. I just have a definitive plan for my future, and those things get in the way."

"And that's making it to the Majors." I don't ask, I state. I know this is his plan.

"Yes. And then when I'm done there...psychology."

"To sports dudes."

"That's the plan."

"Do you ever wonder what you'd do if you don't make it?"

"No," he says as a matter of fact. "That would distract me. Putting doubt there. I can't have doubt. That's just a recipe for failure."

I just nod. That's how I thought when it came to dance.

"Look, I'm not being an arrogant dick. I've practiced all my life to get there. I'm one of their top picks. I've already had recruiters contact me. This spring is a big year for me, and if I start talking like I might not make it, well then, the whole way I play changes. I lose confidence. I can't afford that."