Chapter 39

Thirty-Nine

SARA

I spoketo Tom later that evening. I wished nothing more than to tell him about my day and how the last two nights had been so frustrating my hair was falling out. How could I explain why I never told him anything about my past as a dancer? I’d had several opportunities to confide in him, to share my deepest secrets, and I’d chosen silence.

There was no way I’d be able to keep doing this without it blowing up in my face. It was a matter of finding the right moment. Perhaps when he returned that weekend I’d finally lay it all out?

When I woke up Thursday morning, I was so sore my ribs ached with every breath. Still, I was not about to let a little pain stop me. I was going to hit the studio again and again until I finally got it right. The pep talk did little to push my body out of bed. I struggled to even open my eyes. The sun shining with a vengeance through the tall windows didn’t help. Eyelids partially glued shut, I managed to maneuver out of bed and slowly walked into the kitchen still wearing my boy-short pajamas.

Jen looked me over as she packed her lunch. “You look like someone beat you with a stick.”

I flinched as I gently placed my tender gluteus on the kitchen stool. “I’d forgotten how unforgiving hardwood floors can be.”

“You didn’t wake up one day with the grace of a swan, you know. You worked your butt off for many years. It’s gonna take time to bounce back. You should take it easy. Stop pushing yourself so hard so soon.”

I exhaled deeply, grabbing my throbbing side as I breathed, wincing. “I didn’t get to where I was by slacking either. I drove myself to the ground. Sore or not, I practiced every single day. I have to keep that mentality if I’m to go anywhere with this.”

“And exactly where is it you want to go with this?”

“Don’t know. Back then, becoming a famous dancer was it. Everything was geared toward one goal. Now? Who knows if I’m even good enough—don’t know if it even holds the same appeal. It used to be about accomplishing something grand, about making it all the way to the top, as far as I could possibly reach. Things were so much different. I had dance and I had Josh. We had a life planned. Marriage, children. The white picket fence.

“After the accident, I lost all sense of direction, goals, purpose. It wasn’t just the loss of my mother or never dancing again. Everything dissolved. I’ve been walking around for the last few years with no purpose whatsoever. Getting up every day and going to work—that’s been my life.”

I slowly slid off the stood and gently walked to the couch, my thighs burning as my worn muscles flexed to sit. “Oh…that feels better,” I said as the soft cushions welcomed my bum. “With Tom,” I continued, “there’s brief glimpses of faraway fantasies where maybe I could have a happily ever after. I don’t know if he even pictures us having a life together. And what about dance? Where does it fit into the picture?” I looked at her, hoping to find the answers in her eyes.

All I saw was ambivalence reflected back at me. When she said nothing, I dropped my gaze. “Why am I pushing myself so hard? I have no audition to prep for, no dance school I’m trying to impress, no show to rehearse for, or future to work toward. I still have no purpose.” I rested my head back in silent desperation.

She stopped packing her bag and walked over, sitting next to me. “Sara, so what if you can’t pick up where you left off,” she began as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Life changes and we have to change with it, even if we don’t want to. You are a different person now and it’s okay for your dreams to be different also, but it doesn’t mean there is no room for your passions. God knows where this may lead. Tom, you. Picking up dance again. Who cares? It’s not about the destination. It’s about the trip there. The journey is what matters.”

I raised my head, hiking an eyebrow as I looked at her. She loved to use clichés. As annoying as it was, I loved her for it. She always managed to be my voice of reason, regardless how corny it was. “I know it’s about the journey, it’s just that…”

“Don’t worry about how hard you have to push yourself,” she said. “Look, the beautiful thing is, you don’t have an audition; you don’t have the stress of impressing some school or being in a show. You can do this at your own pace, on your time, and you don’t have to do it for anyone but you.”

“I have to do it for my mom.”

“Your mom would want you to do it because you love it. Because it’s what makes you happy.”

“What about Tom?” I lowered my gaze, thinking about his reaction.

“Why wouldn’t he support you?”

“He doesn’t know…anything.” Hopelessness tightened around my heart as I thought about how I should have confided in him sooner.

“Then, it’s time.” She kissed the top of my head and gave me a big hug. “Promise me you will do the right thing.”

I nodded. It was the closest thing to a promise.