excerpts from a book I'll never write II

I would do it for you

When I dance, my wrists are open. I bleed. How much time does it take for one to bleed out? Not long enough for me to have gotten to her in time.

I don't anymore. Dance.

I loved her, you know. I loved her like sunrises back home with Bear, like Mom's potato pancakes, like Addie's birthday cards, like snow, like everything. Everything, everything. But not enough to have been okay with the price tag of her absence.

Mary, I love you, but I hate you too, you know. Some days at school, when I pass through Addie's rehearsal to drop off her lunch that she deliberately left at home, those are the days when I think I hate you more than I love you.

I will never fly again. Vinnie says I will, in time. But then I look over at my sister, and she just knows. She gives me this look, almost something like give me your pain, then hugs me, and we cry because we both know I didn't choose music. We both know there's not a world in this Universe where I would've.

When we both got in, Addie sat me down one night and said I'm not dancing. I'm done, and I told her I would never forgive her if she didn't, I said You have to do this. For you. And so she did. She did it for Vinnie. She did it for me. More than she did it for herself.

***

Addie's paying her own debts too, you know. Winning. It was the worst day of her life. Their names echoed through the speakers, confetti was covering the entire arena and she cried. She didn't stop until three days later when Vinnie'd called to make arrangements for his move.

She picked up, she listened, she cared, and during those twelve minutes, she let go. She let go of the best version of herself, the only one she ever truly loved. She let go of what had shaped her into who she was. She let go of Tim. That was four years ago.

But then, you know, the other day, she cried during dinner, and I asked her what was wrong, and she said I miss him, Henry. I miss him terribly.

And then I thought of those three days and twelve minutes, of how that was all the time she got to let him go. To grieve someone who taught her how to fly.

She never skates anymore. Never calls Tim. Never wishes him happy birthday. Never watches his movies.

***

They're both so sorry that they barely talk. I've watched them bleed in embrace a couple of times since they said goodbye at the airport, and while Addie swears it gets easier with time, she knows I know that what she really means is that it only gets worse.

I no longer have to read from her eyes what it's like to start forgetting things. Little things. So little that you don't even notice you knew them until you forget them.

And now she's standing on the threshold of yet another loss, terrified. Addie knows, I know, from how she holds herself when she thinks nobody's watching, that she cannot afford it.

I think leaving is going to be the biggest mistake of her entire life, but she won't stay because she loves me too much, and if she doesn't stay and goes back home miserable and hurting and bleeding until she's numb, it'll be my fault and I'll never be able to forgive myself.

But then, I need her to come home with me because I haven't spent a single day on this planet without her and because I'm terrified that without her, I'll be half the person I am now.

But he makes her so happy. He loves her into loving herself. He doesn't tell Vinnie to take his hand off her waist. He holds her when I'm being a jerk. He makes her laugh. He makes her so, so happy. And what's even worse, he is worthy of her, he always was.

And my God, I would go to hell and back just so she could have everything. Even if that means learning to walk all over again, taking my first steps into this cruelty without her kindness, becoming half the person I am now.

I would do it for her.