less active than my ninety-two-year-old great-grandmother? That's funny shit, Ben. If you consider cruel irony hilarious." Though his shoulders can't shrug, his eyes do. "What can you do?"
"Is this...all bullshit, John? You can't really be okay with this, are you?"
He looks at me.
Stares at me.
"I'm sorry for being so blunt, I just don't get it."
He finally speaks. "What choice do I have? If I let it get to me, what happens? I end up in a mental ward like that pretty little girl of yours? Shit, I can't even kill myself to escape this."
His eyes start to tear.
My heart starts to break.
"I'm stuck like this with no choice, Ben. So...for my mom's sake, I laugh."
I nod, sadly understanding a little better.
"I'm all she has. Besides her gram. So...I'm gonna be the next Stephen Hawking and make enough money to pay for people to help her. Since I can't."
"Well...you do have a high IQ, right?"
"Damn straight. 156."
"Impressive. And you're still in high school?"
"Mom didn't want me to lose out on a real childhood. I'm in all AP classes though, so...I'm still ahead when I start college."
"Cool."
"If I don't get pneumonia again and die."
"Dude."
"I came close. That's why I couldn't go back to rehab yet. It's gonna take a lot to get my immune system up."
"Shit."
"Yeah." He picks up his straw with his mouth and elevates his iPad. "Let's get back to the game."
We get back to Words With Friends, but my thoughts are swirling all over the place.
Will Johnny really be okay?
Will Rose?
Do I go find her?
Or do I let her be?
In the end, I let her be – for now.
17
ROSE
Returning to the normal world isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Not that hanging home all day is considered normal for a girl my age. I should be studying or partying or enjoying life in my twenties, I'm told. But I haven't found my bearings yet.
While in the mental ward of the hospital, I did get my breaks to work on my physical disability and I did get fitted for my permanent artificial leg, which I'm wearing right now. It's not as robotic as my metal paper towel holder, so it's prettier to look at. Relatively. It's still not the real thing. But at least I can wear my own shoes with it, and it looks like a real leg. And oh yeah, they fit me for a second leg too. A leg to use when I, believe it or not, dance. That leg's really robotic looking, but it's supposed to be highly effective for dancing. And it does have a petite foot, so it still fits in a ballet shoe.
I know what you're thinking - "You can still dance?"
It turns out, yes, I can. But I haven't tried it yet.
My new therapist, the one for my brain, not my leg, allowed me to go online during some of my sessions and research dancers with amputated legs. During one of my early sessions, Denise asked me what I planned to do about dancing. I looked at her like she was the one who'd lost her mind.
"Was that not an appropriate question to ask?" she said in response, as if she couldn't see I only had one functioning leg.
My inclination was to keep staring, but my stomach rumbled with the urge to release a scream. So without raising my voice, I sarcastically pointed out that, "I seem to be missing an essential instrument for dancing."
"I beg to differ."
"How's that?"
"You're a dancer. You don't watch Dancing with the Stars ?"
I rolled my eyes. Amy Purdy. Holly had brought her up the last time I saw her. "On occasion."
"Have you ever heard of Amy Purdy?"
"Vaguely."
"She was a double amputee. That didn't stop her."
I let that sink in.
"And...I've gone poking around the Internet. There are others."
Really?
"I don't think this is the end of your dancing career, Rose. I believe it's the beginning. A new start...a new challenge. Are you up for the task?"
Was I?
***
After that session, Denise and I spent a lot of time researching dancers with disabilities, and we found that there are actually academies that specialize in dancers with disabilities, including them with
"Is this...all bullshit, John? You can't really be okay with this, are you?"
He looks at me.
Stares at me.
"I'm sorry for being so blunt, I just don't get it."
He finally speaks. "What choice do I have? If I let it get to me, what happens? I end up in a mental ward like that pretty little girl of yours? Shit, I can't even kill myself to escape this."
His eyes start to tear.
My heart starts to break.
"I'm stuck like this with no choice, Ben. So...for my mom's sake, I laugh."
I nod, sadly understanding a little better.
"I'm all she has. Besides her gram. So...I'm gonna be the next Stephen Hawking and make enough money to pay for people to help her. Since I can't."
"Well...you do have a high IQ, right?"
"Damn straight. 156."
"Impressive. And you're still in high school?"
"Mom didn't want me to lose out on a real childhood. I'm in all AP classes though, so...I'm still ahead when I start college."
"Cool."
"If I don't get pneumonia again and die."
"Dude."
"I came close. That's why I couldn't go back to rehab yet. It's gonna take a lot to get my immune system up."
"Shit."
"Yeah." He picks up his straw with his mouth and elevates his iPad. "Let's get back to the game."
We get back to Words With Friends, but my thoughts are swirling all over the place.
Will Johnny really be okay?
Will Rose?
Do I go find her?
Or do I let her be?
In the end, I let her be – for now.
17
ROSE
Returning to the normal world isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Not that hanging home all day is considered normal for a girl my age. I should be studying or partying or enjoying life in my twenties, I'm told. But I haven't found my bearings yet.
While in the mental ward of the hospital, I did get my breaks to work on my physical disability and I did get fitted for my permanent artificial leg, which I'm wearing right now. It's not as robotic as my metal paper towel holder, so it's prettier to look at. Relatively. It's still not the real thing. But at least I can wear my own shoes with it, and it looks like a real leg. And oh yeah, they fit me for a second leg too. A leg to use when I, believe it or not, dance. That leg's really robotic looking, but it's supposed to be highly effective for dancing. And it does have a petite foot, so it still fits in a ballet shoe.
I know what you're thinking - "You can still dance?"
It turns out, yes, I can. But I haven't tried it yet.
My new therapist, the one for my brain, not my leg, allowed me to go online during some of my sessions and research dancers with amputated legs. During one of my early sessions, Denise asked me what I planned to do about dancing. I looked at her like she was the one who'd lost her mind.
"Was that not an appropriate question to ask?" she said in response, as if she couldn't see I only had one functioning leg.
My inclination was to keep staring, but my stomach rumbled with the urge to release a scream. So without raising my voice, I sarcastically pointed out that, "I seem to be missing an essential instrument for dancing."
"I beg to differ."
"How's that?"
"You're a dancer. You don't watch Dancing with the Stars ?"
I rolled my eyes. Amy Purdy. Holly had brought her up the last time I saw her. "On occasion."
"Have you ever heard of Amy Purdy?"
"Vaguely."
"She was a double amputee. That didn't stop her."
I let that sink in.
"And...I've gone poking around the Internet. There are others."
Really?
"I don't think this is the end of your dancing career, Rose. I believe it's the beginning. A new start...a new challenge. Are you up for the task?"
Was I?
***
After that session, Denise and I spent a lot of time researching dancers with disabilities, and we found that there are actually academies that specialize in dancers with disabilities, including them with
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