Hunter Hill University: Reaching Rose Part 8

I don't respond.

"It's okay, honey. He said it's healthy. You're moving forward. I'm so happy, Rosie. I can't wait 'til you come home."

"Me too."

"Okay, baby. I'll let you go. Call me if you want me to come down before Wednesday. Otherwise, I'll see you Wednesday. I love you."

"Love you too."

Just as I'm making my way back to the couch, someone calls my name again, and I recognize the voice immediately. I'm excited and agitated at the same time. Using my cane to help me, I turn around slowly, and without being able to help myself, I smile and cry at the same time.

"No. No. Rose. I didn't come here to make you cry."

Putting her hands on my shoulders and searching my eyes, she says, "I came here to tell you to wise the f.u.c.k up and get better already."

And right away, I'm laughing along with my tears. G.o.d, how I've missed her.

"Oh, Holly."

"What the h.e.l.l, Rose? You trying to play hero by getting through this by yourself?" She pulls away, and I turn to lead her to a table. When we're sitting next to each other, she looks at me and says, "Why couldn't you just call me? I could have been here for you the whole time. And wait. Your mother said you weren't talking. You said my name. Are you cured?" She's teasing me. Typical Holly. I've missed her so much. She'd become my best friend and dorm mate on the first day of college three years ago.

"Far from it," I tell her.

"So why did your mom say you weren't talking?"

"I wasn't. I just...started."

"You just started talking? Since your accident?"

I nod.

"Rose. How long has it been? I haven't heard from you in months."

"June 12th."

"You speak so softly now, I can hardly hear you. June 12th? That's, like, what, a week after you got to New York, isn't it? You didn't even get to...Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry."

"It was three weeks before the show opened." My chest hurts saying this out loud.

"Your mom said it was a delivery truck?"

Again, I nod. Dr. Rappaport's been trying to talk about this for weeks, Holly visits, and she gets me spilling my guts. Sort of.

"Oh my G.o.d. What do you remember from it?"

"Not much. I remember pain and then waking up two months later."

"Two months? Holy s.h.i.+t."

"I need water," I say, pus.h.i.+ng away from the table to get some from the water cooler.

Rose comes with me, holding my hand as we slowly make it over to the cooler.

"So two months you were in a coma?"

"A medically induced coma. I had a lot of infections and a bad head injury."

"Is that why you didn't talk for so long?"

"I think that was psychological. Something about it being selective or conversion," I say slowly, softly. "They rattled off so many reasons."

"Then why are you talking now? So low, but you're talking."

"I don't know. Doctor said I hit the next stage or something."

"Next stage?"

"Anger."

"You? Angry? I don't believe that. You don't look angry."

"I'm happy to see you, Holly, but I'm not happy," I admit, sitting back down at the table. "In fact, for the first time ever, I wanted to punch something today. Yesterday...I had to be restrained."

"Oh my G.o.d," she says of my being restrained. Then she looks down at my lap. "Can I see it?" she asks carefully.

Reluctantly, I fold up my yoga pants and show Holly my metal leg...plastic foot attached.

"It's not so bad, Rose. Your pants cover it. But, you can never wear shoes again?"

Shoes are the least of my worries. I can never dance again. "This isn't my permanent leg. I'm told that one's much prettier," I say bitterly.

"At least you don't have to try to find a monster shoe to fit that thing into," she says, referring to the ugly foot attached to my metal robot leg.

Rolling down my pants, I say, "I can never dance again, Holly."

She closes her eyes, and I get the feeling she already realizes this.

"I don't know, Rose. People run marathons with no legs. I think if it's something you want badly enough, you can do it. Besides, I was researching online after your mother came by the other day. Did you know there was a double amputee on Dancing with the Stars?"

That's right, I'd forgotten about Amy Purdy.

"Yup. And then I looked some more. There are a lot of dancers who have one or no legs."

"Ballerinas?"

"I think so. Yeah." She looks me in the eyes and gets so close I think she's going to kiss me. "This isn't a prison sentence. You can still plan the life you wanted. You just have to change the way you go about it."

"When did you get so...encouraging?"

"Rose. I love psychology. Love it. The best decision I ever made was to switch from finance to psych and social services. I love...helping people, I guess you can say." Holly bops her head from side to side, smiling modestly.

"That's right. You wanted to switch last time I saw you. I forgot about that."

"You're forgiven. You had other things on your mind," she jokes, before turning all serious. "Cooperate, Rose. Your mom said you haven't been. I miss you. I want you back at school."

"School? I haven't even thought about it."

"It's probably the best thing for you. Even if it's one or two cla.s.ses to start. You can live with me and Griff."

"Griffin?"

"Yeah, I took him up on his offer to move into his house."

"In his billiard room?"

"No, no. Hurley moved out before the summer. I took his room. And then Braden transferred to Monmouth this semester, so you'd be able to have his room."

I start to clench my fists, feeling agitated at the thought of my future. "Holly. You're...you're going too fast for me. I'm just trying to find my way back home right now."

Seeing Holly makes me happy, but it's also making me sad and very edgy. She makes it sound so simple. It's not simple at all.

"Well, when you're ready...I'm gonna talk to Griffin, so...keep it in mind at least?"

"I will. Thanks."

"I love you, Rose," Holly says, taking me in a big bear hug, so different than she was last May.

"Love you too, Holl."

"They told me you have PT at one. Can I walk you there?"

"I'd like that. Thanks."

14.

BEN.

Dinner is quiet today. For me, at least. Many of the resident patients had visitors, and Johnny and Rose were nowhere to be found. Johnny wasn't in our room when I got back from PT, and I haven't seen him since. I thought Rose would be here, because, well, I just thought she would. Then again, maybe it was just me hoping she'd be here.

Instead of going back in my room for the night, I put on Dumb and Dumber in the lounge area and settle in to watch. The leather recliner couches are comfortable, and there's nothing better to do. I've been ignoring texts from the guys, because they're just busting my b.a.l.l.s about being in an old folk's home, and I don't really want to be dealing with that s.h.i.+t right now. So, I decide to text Holly, who I haven't talked to since the last day of summer cla.s.ses.

Me: Hey stranger. Wha.s.sup?

About fifteen minutes later, my phone pops.

Holly: Hey. Long time no see. How's the knee?

Me: Good. How's school? Meet any new psych majors as interesting as me?

Right away, she answers.

Holly: Are u kidding? No one holds a candle to u.

Me: Except that bartender of yours?

Holly: Well, he's not a psych major. Jealous?

Me: A little. Lol Holly: We'll have to get you a hot chick.

Me: Found one. Just trying to get her to notice me.

Holly: How can she not notice you? You're HOT.

Me: Hot? Yeah, well, this one's got a lot of other things to deal with than some h.o.r.n.y guy. Besides, she's...fragile.

Holly: Fragile? What's she made of...gla.s.s?

Me: No. But she has been sort of broken. I'd like to be the one to help put her back together. ;) Holly: You pansy.

Me: STFU Holly: You text your mother with that phone?

Just then, Rose walks in and takes a seat on the couch adjacent to me. I text Holly.

Me: Gotta go. TTYL.

I shut off my phone and stick it in my pocket. Then I get up and move to Rose's couch. "I can change the movie if you want."

"No. Dumb and Dumber is good."

"How'd it go today?" I notice her fists aren't clenched like they were earlier.

"Okay. Making progress."

"I can tell. You're speaking a little louder."

Her hand flies to her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," I remove her hand from her mouth and keep it in mine, "you're not talking too loudly. This morning, I could barely hear you."

She looks at our hands on the couch between us, and I wonder if I am being inappropriate, so I let her hand go.