Part 29 (1/2)

”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 d.i.c.k. 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.”

”I get it. I don't think you're arrogant at all. I was nodding because...well...my att.i.tude was pretty much the same before.” I shake my head, not really wanting to go there. ”But...so I understand. You're right. You can't get distracted.”

My cup is empty, but I bring it to my lips anyway.

”No. You don't think I'm conceited?” He asks this, but I can tell he'd rather be asking about me. I slipped up by mentioning it.

”Of course not. You're far from it. You're dedicated. Committed. I admire that.”

”Thank you.”

He puts down his cup and I can tell it's empty.

”Wanna get going?” he asks.

”Sure.”

In his car, he searches again for a music station. ”I don't have any country CDs.”

”I like One Republic. That's fine.”

He's still searching the radio.

”But if you really want country, 96.1 should come in clear.”

He tunes it to the station and it's right in the middle of ”Who Says You Can't Go Home” by Bon Jovi.

”Bon Jovi? I thought this was a country station?”

Shaking my head, I laugh, saying, ”But he sings this with the lead singer of Sugarland. A country band.”

”Ah.”

Several country songs and a b.u.t.tload of commercials later, we're at my house, and Ben walks me to the door.

”Thank you for tonight, Ben. I had a really nice time.”

Right away, my hands are in his. ”I'm sorry I wasn't the best of company. I promise tomorrow I'll be happier.”

It's funny how easily Ben promises things. Doesn't he realize that circ.u.mstances can make a promise a lie? ”It's okay. Your friend is hurting. And if you're sad tomorrow, that's okay too.”

”Thanks.”

For a moment, we stare into each other's eyes. His are sad and it makes me feel bad. He's trying to read mine, questioning whether it's safe to kiss me? I'm not sure. I do want to kiss him. Taste him. See what it's like to be so close to him.

But before I get the image out of my head, the thought of his tongue out of my mouth, Ben leans into me, hugs me, and kisses me on the cheek.

”So breakfast. Ten o'clock.”

”Yup. Breakfast is at ten.”

”See you in the morning, half-pint,” he jokes.

”See you in the morning.”

After Ben leaves, I'm too wound up to sleep, and it's quite early anyway, so I open up my laptop and search 'disabled ballerinas.' Like I had found out in therapy when I was in the mental ward, there are plenty. And they seem to be doing well. But are they where they want to be? Were they better before and now have to accept their limitations? I don't want limitations. But I really want to dance again. I miss it. I want to get lost in the music while I'm on the dance floor, but with my leg tripping me up, it's just not going to happen.

Two hours of Googling later, I put on my dancing leg and tiptoe the best I can down to the bas.e.m.e.nt again, making sure not to wake the now sleeping house.

I turn the stereo on low and start with the barre. I warm up, do my stretches, then try again to be as graceful as possible.

After an hour of stumbling and falling, instead of actually dancing, I've had enough. Not as quietly, I make it back to my room, and after practically ripping off the prosthetic, I go to bed, not bothering with my usual routine of brus.h.i.+ng my teeth and caring for my leg.

Because I'm tossing and turning instead of sleeping, I hear my phone when it dings.

HOLLY: Hey. U up?

I sit up and text her back.

ME: Yup. What's up?

HOLLY: Come to Donny's tomorrow.

ME: Can't. Ben's coming up.

HOLLY: Bring him.

ME: I think I'll pa.s.s. Thanks tho. How r u?

HOLLY: Not good.

ME: WHY?! What happened?

HOLLY: I miss my BFF. :( ME: Oh.

Not surprisingly, my phone rings.