by Beth Michele
A sense of urgency overcomes me. Without warning, I stride over to her, bend down to unlock the brake on her wheelchair, and push her toward the door. This seems to get her attention.
“What are you doing, Dylan?” she asks, voice pitched in aggravation.
“That’s Dills to you, Hopper, and I’m taking you outside.”
“I don’t want to go outside,” she whines, throwing her hands up in the air.
I tip the chair back slightly to move it over the threshold and onto the ramp. “Tough shit, Evie. We’re going out in the rain. You used to love it, remember?”
“Well, that was before,” she emphasizes, her voice barren of emotion. But I know she’s in there somewhere, and I’m going to keep digging until I find her.
Outside, I stop at the bottom of the ramp, light rain peppering our heads, emotion welling up inside of me. My chest elevates with a rush of breath as I move to stand in front of her.
“Do you think I give two fucks that you’re in a wheelchair? I don’t. It doesn’t for one second change the way I feel about you. God damn it, Evie! Your legs may not work, but you’re alive.” And then the dam that I’ve been holding back finally bursts as tears begin a steady stream down my cheeks. I reach out with both hands and grip her arms, staring hard into her eyes. “You’re alive,” I whisper, agonizing pain ripping through my body in time with a crack of thunder overhead.
“You don’t get it because you’re not in this chair!” Her skin burns red, dabs of cool rain hitting her cheeks that do nothing to calm her down. “I’m not the same person anymore!” Her shoulders sag, voice finally softening as tears join the raindrops. “I’m not the same.”
“Don’t you get it, Evie?” I choke out. “You are the same….” I place a gentle hand on her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. The reason why I love her—why I’ll always love only her. “In here.”
She shakes her head frantically as if she refuses to accept what I’m saying. I pause, lifting my face to the rain and inhaling a burst of cool air, hoping for some sort of divine inspiration.
“I came here to tell you that I got into Parsons for the fall semester and I’m thinking about accepting, but I want you to come with me.”
Her gaze exudes a happiness for me that fades fast. “I can’t do that. I mean, look at me,” she says, gesturing to her legs.
“I am looking at you. And… if you won’t come with me, then tell me you want me here, with you, and I’ll stay.”
“Stop, just stop!” she yells, holding up her hands as if to block my speech. “I can’t do this anymore, Dylan. I’m not going to be one more thing you feel responsible for, that you feel obligated to take care of. I won’t tie you down like that.”
“What? Is that what you think?” I push away from her chair and scrub a hand roughly through my wet hair. My heart is swollen in my chest, but not in a way that makes me feel invincible. It’s painful, as if I’ve been wounded. I press my fingertips into the ache and avert my eyes. I focus on the damp grass, not wanting her to see the disbelief on my face, or the myriad of hurt burrowing its way under my skin.
“You’re finally free to leave and go after your dream,” she adds, more quietly this time, “I won’t be another person in your life to hold you back from that.”
A shocked gasp climbs up my throat. “Wow. After everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ve been to one another, you really don’t get it, do you?” I take a step closer, eyes fixed on hers, blazing. “Without you, there is no dream.”
I bow my head, staring at the ground. Droplets of rain sift through my lashes, forcing me to blink them away. There’s too much static in my brain and my lungs are burning.
I’m waiting again—but this time it’s for Evie to tell me to stay. I want to hear the words so badly I can practically taste their texture on my lips. But her silence stings, my heart sinking further in my chest.
I turn to leave, only making it a few steps before I stop and swing around to face her.
“Oh, and just so we’re clear, this isn’t me walking away from you. This is me loving you, and giving you the time and space to come back to loving yourself.”
YOU’RE FREE, DYLAN.
A single tear crawls down my cheek. I don’t want him to go, but I can’t ask him to stay. Not like this. So I watch him walk away. The only love I’ve ever known—and I let him.
It’s like there are two sides of me battling each other. The one that wants to yell at him to come back, and the terrified side who can’t get the words out, afraid he’ll end up resenting me for wanting him to stay.
I wheel myself back up the Godforsaken ramp and into the house. I’m completely soaked now, from the rain, from the tears that won’t stop flowing. I don’t care. I push myself down the hall and find a towel in the linen closet, patting my head and arms, then throwing it over my shoulders.
My Kindle is sitting on the table and I pick it up, parking my chair next to the sofa and locking the brake. For a second, I glance up at the window. The light is on in Dylan’s room and I stare at it for several beats before returning to my book. The last thing I should be doing in my condition is finishing The Fault in Our Stars. But given I’ve been on a downward spiral and I’m a masochist these days, it makes perfect sense.
An entire box of used tissues is on the floor surrounding my wheelchair when Zoey marches through the door. She waves a king-sized chocolate bar at me, probably because I look like such a sorry mess. I know I’ve been difficult to deal with and I also know it still frustrates her that she can’t make this better for me.
“You’re so stubborn and strong-willed… but I freaking love you.” She smiles, but it’s weaved with sadness. “Now, get off your ass and start walking.” She flips the candy bar my way and for a beat, almost all is right with the world.
Almost.
My eyes find their way to Dylan’s window again. I pick up the glass that I had to retrieve from the lower cabinet next to the fridge—one of the few within my reach now.
For a split second, I manage to peel my gaze from the window and stare into the kitchen, the addition of the counter at wheelchair height so glaring in this moment that I have to look away.
I take a sip of my orange juice, trying to wash down the ache in my throat that has nothing to do with the oversized pieces of chocolate I just consumed. I’m holding on so tight that I barely register the glass as it shatters in my palm, or the pain when a tiny shard slices my thumb. I watch the blood drip from my finger, knowing I need to do something about it, but still not moving.
The doorbell rings and my heart skips at the thought that it could be Dylan again. I’m a glutton for punishment, really—pushing him away when all I want to do is pull him close. Expecting him to keep coming back. It’s not fair to him. None of this is.
Nora’s smile precedes her when I open the door, but the halo of disappointment I’m sporting causes her expression to dip. “Wow, I was hoping for a better reaction.” She breezes past me, undeterred. “I came to take you away for a little while. I—” She stops when she sees the blood and the glass, a horrified expression covering her face. “Jesus, Evie. What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a broken glass and a little blood.”
“Let me get you cleaned up.” She eyes me warily. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”
“Oh God, Nora. Of course it was. I was just upset. I guess I didn’t realize my own strength.”
She flips me a knowing glare. “Now that’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say in weeks. Okay,” she kneads her hands together, “Dr. Nora’s going to make sure you don’t need stitches or anything. I’m going to grab you a band-aid, some clothes, and then get that glass cleaned up.” She heads to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder with a cocky smile. “Sit tight.”
“Ha, ha.”
Even after Nora cleans everything up and helps me change clothes, she remains focused on her crusade to get me out of the house. “So, as
I started to say earlier, I refuse to let you sit around pining for Dylan when you’re the one who sent him walking.”
Ouch.
Still reeling from the stinging truth of her words, it takes me a second to form a response. “Have you been a fly on the wall here?”
“What do you mean?”
I throw my towel at her and she dodges it with her elbow. “He was here not too long ago. He got into the design school in New York, wants me to go with him.”
She leans back against the door, arms crossed over her tight, black t-shirt. “I hope you told him yes.” And when I don’t answer, she adds, “I’ve just made my first diagnosis. You’re certifiable. Now let’s go. We’re going to the store to load up on junk food and then we’re going to watch Johnny Depp movies all night until we pass out.”
“NOW THIS IS a fun Friday night. Stop & Shop in a wheelchair,” I comment dryly as Nora pushes me down the aisles, piling various bags of potato chips onto my lap.
“Give me a few minutes,” she grins, “then I’ll pop some wheelies.” Reaching up on her tiptoes, she snags a bag of Cheetos down from the shelf.
“By the way, how are your mom and dad?”
“They’re good, actually.” When she faces me again, her lips twitch into a genuine smile. “It’s weird seeing them so affectionate with each other, but they seem happy, so it’s pretty cool. That reminds me,” she opens a bag of chips and shoves one in her mouth, “they want you to come for dinner next week. I told them you don’t leave the house much,” she winks, “but that I’d see what I could do.”
“Funny.”
We make it through the express checkout line when Nora pauses, looking back over her shoulder. “Oh crap. I forgot Tic-Tacs. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“Where else am I going?” I mumble under my breath as she walks away.
“I can hear you,” she calls out in a singsong voice. I actually smile a little before my mind drifts to Dylan and my body sinks deeper into the chair, mouth shriveling into a frown.
“Are you dying?”
My hunched shoulders lift just enough to match the high-pitched voice to a little girl with big blue eyes and a Hello Kitty bandana wrapped around her head. The freckled smile she’s wearing drops from her face when she looks at mine.
“What?”
“You look sad,” she tells me, what’s left of her blonde brows pinched together. “Are you dying too?”
“No, sweetie, I’m not.”
“It’s okay if you are, because Mommy told me you can have anything you want in heaven. Here,” she holds a rainbow lollipop in front of me, “you have this. I don’t need it.”
I inhale a shaky breath, my insides crumbling as I reach out and take the lollipop from the tiny fingers of this brave, selfless girl. It’s like touching a piece of myself, of the person I used to be. You’re still that person, a voice in my head reminds me. Only it’s not my voice. It’s the voice of love.
“Come on, honey, we have to get back to the hospital.” Her mother waves her back over, a proud grin curving her cheeks.
“Bye,” she sings as she skips away, holding her mother’s hand. Still smiling.
“What are you staring at?” Nora asks, and I didn’t realize my watery eyes were still glued to the door, the little girl’s smile sitting on top of my chest.
“Life.”
She shrugs as if I’m acting crazy again and she’s getting used to it. “Okaaaaay.” Her Tic-Tacs rattle in the bag as she walks ahead of me. I stop just before we hit the exit and she finally turns around when she realizes I’m no longer following her.
“What’s wrong?” The bag of candy drops to the ground and she bends down to pick it up.
“I’m not dying.”
“Of course not.” She swings the bag over her shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”
“But I act like I am. Like my life is over.” I expect a response even though I’m not really asking a question. I already know the answer.
She exhales a loud breath and in that simple action gives me exactly what I’m looking for. “Yes, you do.”
Nothing is said after that, and my mind is elsewhere anyway—on a little girl with a courageous soul, and a little boy who no matter how much I protest, will always have my heart.
I’M PRACTICALLY DOZING off as I wait for my counselor, Denise to call me in. Nora and I stayed up long past one in the morning, ending our Johnny Depp marathon with the movie Benny & Joon. Probably not the best choice, because all it did was start the waterworks again.
I glance over at Nora who is sound asleep in the chair beside me, mouth open and head back. I dig for my phone and turn it on, figuring I can snap a good blackmail picture, when I notice a missed text—from Dylan. It looks like it came in last night around midnight.
It was her heart he loved. Above all else, it was always her heart.
I love you, Evie.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest as my fingers touch the letters on the screen, a stray tear weaving its way down my cheek.
I do love you, Dylan.
“Evie?” Denise gestures to me from the door with the flick of her hand. I tuck my phone away in my purse and elbow Nora to let her know I’m going in. She mumbles a few incoherent words and I smile.
I don’t get that hard lump in my throat meeting with Denise like I did when I saw the therapist after my parents’ deaths. Maybe it’s because Denise is more laid-back.
While she still has the universal white, lined pad and pencil, waiting to take down all the details of my existence, it’s her no-nonsense style that puts me at ease. With a sleek black bob, a pair of faded blue jeans, and a t-shirt that says Keep talking, I’m diagnosing you, it’s almost as if I’m talking to a friend.
“Make yourself comfortable.” She points to the spot across from her tall, brown leather chair and I wheel myself over. The office is small. A simple desk in the corner, and one other chair in addition to her own. The walls are lined with various framed degrees, and she has a few pictures of her golden retriever, Rocky, sitting on her desk.
“So, how are you today?”
“Pretty good.” Needing something to do, I drum my fingers absently against my thigh. “I feel like I’m getting stronger. The physical therapy is helping.”
“I like that.” She smiles, her teeth a stark contrast to her hair. “That’s an improvement from last week. Something has changed, yes?” And when I’m silent, she directs a finger toward her shirt and grins as if in a television commercial. “I can’t diagnose unless you talk.”
“I got a bit of a wake-up call yesterday.”
She cocks her head to the side, her black hair falling around her face as she surveys me. “What do you mean?”
“I met someone very special. And in an instant, she showed me how precious life is, and that I have so much to be grateful for. It’s almost as if I’ve had my eyes closed since the accident. Focusing on what I’ve lost instead of what I’m still capable of.”
My thoughts bounce around as I stare out the window overlooking the courtyard. “I remember the time my father taught me how to ride my bike without training wheels…,” I begin, coming back to Denise scribbling on her white pad. “I think back to the joy in his eyes. He was so patient, and I was so clumsy, falling over all the time. I’ve never been good with the whole balancing thing. That’s why running is so good for me because both my feet are on the ground.” I wince when I realize what I’ve said. “I mean, it was good for me.”
“Keep going, Evie.”
“Dylan was watching out his window, even though I told him not to, he did anyway. And when I finally made it down the street without falling off my bike, I heard him shout from his window. The moment I glanced up he ducked his head.” I laugh, and my cheeks turn crimson thinking about him. “As if I wouldn’t have recognized his voice. He’s always cheered me on, you know? Always stood by me.”
She taps her pencil against her lips. “How about now? Is he still standing by you?�
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“Yes.” I tug the leather flap on the arm of my seat. “Even though I keep pushing him away.”
She rolls her chair backward, setting the pad on her desk. “Do you think you’re testing him?”
“No. I’m… I’m afraid…,” I swallow, “of so many things. Of holding him back. Of not being enough for him now, of him feeling responsible for me because he’s so loyal. I want him to be happy and not have any regrets.”
“Wow.” She lifts her chin on a sigh. “That’s quite a lot of decisions you’re making for him. Does he get a say? I mean, it is his life, right?”
I nibble on my thumbnail, thinking how much her words resemble Nora’s. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” she crosses one leg over the other, twirling the ring around her finger, “then allow him to make choices for his own life, and you focus on what you want for yours. Stay in your own head. Figure out what it is you want, and then go get it. You want to walk again, do it. You want Dylan in your life, tell him.”
Curling a loose strand of hair around my finger, I ponder my choices. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.”
“SO, CAN I come in and watch your therapy?” Nora makes one sweep with the wand of gloss, then puckers her lips. “I promise I’ll be quiet. I’ll just—stare.”
“No. You’ll have to stare from a distance. I need to focus in there and I don’t want to end up sliding all over the place on your trail of drool.” I giggle, watching her twist the cap on the lipstick and toss it into her purse.
“I’ve missed that,” she admits, her smile so contagious that I can’t help but return it.
“What?”
“Hearing you laugh. Now off you go before I get all teary-eyed.” She waves me away with her hand. “Say hi to Trey for me.”
“You’re late, Sunshine,” Trey says when I enter the room. “Let’s go. Time’s a ticking.”
“Sorry about that. Denise was running late. So, what am I in for today?”