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Would there ever come a time when I could remember my family, being grateful for the time we’d had together instead of being terrified the pain would overwhelm me?
Probably not. But I managed another strained breath and reminded myself that my life wasn’t without blessings.
Sure, I had a hospital bill to repay that was higher than most people’s mortgages, but I wasn’t alone. Not anymore. I had Ally. I could walk. Despite the specialists warning that it might not ever be possible, I could dance.
Further, I had a job where I got to dance. It involved taking my clothes off, but it also came with a private, guarded parking lot for dancers separate from patrons, as well as medical insurance and a retirement account. Mercedes matched whatever we put into savings. She wanted us to think about the future and warned us that we couldn’t expect to dance forever.
I certainly hoped that wasn’t true. Dancing was my solace and the only piece of my former life that remained.
“You missed your cue,” Ally said, reminding me gently. “You never miss your cue.”
“I did. You’re right. That wasn’t cool.” I treated every performance as if it were an audition. That level of dedication was ingrained into my DNA, even though there was no chance for a scholarship to Juilliard anymore. “You can say it. I froze. I had a flashback.”
“Because of the cop you saw backstage.”
“Yes.” I hummed to drown out the remembered sounds from the accident.
The uniformed officer showing up at Fantasy had brought it all back to the surface. The squealing rubber, the crash of metal, their cries. Ally knew what one of my flashbacks entailed. She alone knew my secrets, and I knew hers.
Tears gathered like they did whenever I remembered the accident, and my vision wobbled. I blinked to bring the ocean and blue sky back into focus. Pulling in a deep breath, I turned my face into the breeze, letting it toss around my long black hair.
Grounding myself was a technique I’d learned in the hospital. The fact was, I remained. I was here with my bare feet on the cool tile. It was wrong that I survived and they didn’t. It was wrong that the world kept on spinning, but spin it did, and it felt like a victory that I let it take me along for the ride.
“Maybe you should go back to counseling,” Ally said, and not for the first time.
“To say what?” I managed to swallow around the ball of sorrow stuck in my throat. “I know what I’m supposed to do.” Staying busy helped. Dancing helped. Ally helped most of all, but with me here and her there, she was too far away. “I don’t like being separated. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” She was probably scrunching her nose. “The apartment sucks without you.”
“I miss your homemade popcorn.”
I released the railing and swiped away the tears that had escaped. I missed Ally taking care of me. She was the only one I let close enough to do that anymore. Caring equaled attachment and the potential to have that attachment ripped away.
“Mr. Smooches misses you too,” she told me.
Mr. Smooches was the Persian cat we’d rescued. We’d only had him six months. He was gorgeous, aloof, and the king of our hearts, though he barely acknowledged us.
“How can you tell?” I asked, skepticism lacing my tone.
“He’s been sitting on your spot on the couch, and he meows whenever I turn on IT Crowd.”
“Really?”
That BBC comedy was our favorite. After work, Ally and I typically watched at least one episode together with Mr. Smooches to unwind.
“That’s surprising.” Because besides the occasional purr when his regal head was scratched, Mr. Smooches was mostly nonverbal.
“What’s interesting to do there?” Ally asked, switching subjects. In other words, getting me focused on something other than missing home. “Have you gone to the tide pools?” Her light blue eyes undoubtedly sparkled as she gained enthusiasm for her topic. “Shopped the historic downtown? Taken a tour to Buccaneer Island?”
“Not yet.” The highlights of Saint Croix were on my list, a list I only had because she had texted it to me, but I couldn’t summon the energy to do anything. That would mean actually living my life instead of only seeking solace from it.
“You’ve been there two days already. You leave soon.” Disapproval colored her voice. “What are you doing to pass the time?”
“I sunbathe on my balcony.”
Not shy about my body, I did it nude. I’d abandoned all sense of modesty in the hospital. A good thing, given my current profession. Besides, unless someone was out on a boat, they couldn’t see me.
“And I listen to my music. I’m choreographing a new number.”
