Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I burst out laughing for the first time since my accident. “You are you, Giorgia, and I don’t want you to act any different.”
Giorgia sat on the electric wheelchair with her tongue wedged between her lips as she tried to figure out how it worked. I preferred the agility of my manual wheelchair. Danilo stood a few steps from us. He hovered a lot during the day, which meant he had to work at night. I wasn’t sure when he ever slept. Giorgia let out a little screech when the wheelchair suddenly surged forward, and she almost collided with my brother. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
I laughed again. The sound felt foreign, and my ribs actually ached.
“Whoa, this thing is fast.” She turned the joystick, and the chair moved to the right, almost striking the staircase. She sent me a wide-eyed look. “Is this made for racing?”
I bit my lip and shook my head. “It takes practice, but I prefer this chair.” I patted my light, agile chair. She moved the wheelchair back to the corner, then she stood.
I felt a pang and had to swallow hard.
Giorgia’s expression fell, her eyes softening. I guess my face showed how much the sight of her simply getting out of the wheelchair hurt me because it would never be like that for me. My physical therapist had promised me we would work with leg braces as soon as my body allowed it, but he had also been very clear that with the damage my spinal cord had sustained, the chances of me walking without support ever again were almost nil.
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. She had nothing to be sorry for. “You made me laugh for the first time in weeks.”
Giorgia came over to me. “I thought we could watch a movie and eat popcorn?”
I nodded, so we moved upstairs to my room in the new elevator. Danilo finally left us alone.
We usually watched movies on my bed. Giorgia plopped down as usual, then sat up with an uncertain expression. “Or do you prefer to sit on the sofa?” She motioned to the sofa off to the side. I hadn’t used it since my accident. The TV could be turned either way.
“No,” I said, then wheeled closer to the bed. I arrested the brakes. I still had trouble getting from the wheelchair into bed, even if it was a new, lower model. Giorgia watched me as I tried to hoist myself into bed. After three tries, I finally managed to land my butt in bed. I used my arms to scoot backward until my back hit the headboard. Then I leaned back and had to take a deep breath. My body ached, and I felt tired from this brief movement.
Giorgia held the remote in her hand but hadn’t turned on the TV yet. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
I nodded. I preferred talking to my therapist. It was easier to share my darkest fears with a near stranger than with the people I knew. “I want to watch a movie.”
Five minutes later, our maid appeared with a big bowl of popcorn and glasses of Coke.
As Giorgia and I watched the movie, shoulder against shoulder, I felt like the old Emma for the first time since waking from the coma.
One day, a few months after the accident, when it became clear that I’d never dance again, Mom threw away all my ballet clothes.
I only knew because she hadn’t properly closed the drawer where I kept my leotards, and when I checked, I found it empty. I opened the other drawers with my ballet clothes, but they too were bare. Everything had disappeared without a word, without an explanation.
But I knew it was Mom. She’d sometimes mentioned how much I had to miss ballet and that I’d certainly be able to do it again soon. She’d probably been more devastated about the end of my ballet career than me. Still, I felt sorrow as I stared at the empty drawer. It symbolized another part of my old life I’d lost, another door that ultimately closed for me.
I’d enjoyed ballet, the grace and discipline, the costumes, the music, but it hadn’t been my dream—until it had been taken from me. I would have loved to decide when I’d stop on my own terms… but I didn’t have that choice. I’d have to come to terms with it as I had to do with many other changes in my life. In the beginning, life had felt like a chain of things I couldn’t do anymore, but slowly, I discovered new things that gave me moments of happiness. Doing things with Giorgia and doing crafts like drawing, pottery, and origami.
What I missed more than dancing was the freedom the ability to walk gave you. I’d never realized how many stairs my daily routine included and how high up many of the things were that I needed on a daily basis. The first time I’d entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water after I’d returned home, I had been unable to reach the cupboard and had been left staring at it until our cook came in and helped me.