Fragile Hearts

25: Pizza and Dumbbells

The phone rings and the caller ID says it's Morgan. I've been giving her space for the past few days. I guess you could say I've also been giving myself space. I was just about to call her, though, because I miss her soft voice.

I answer, "Hello, Morgan. I was just about to call you."

She laughs and says something about being psychic. She sounds so different from the last time we spoke. She jokes about me bringing over a pizza. I really want to see her outside of school. We laugh some more and I say, "I'm on my way."

Within the hour I'm at Morgan's dorm carrying the largest pizza I could get. She looks adorable when she opens the door. I breeze past her and set the pizza on the table. To ground myself, I open the box and pretend to study its contents. Morgan is smiling at me in such a way that I know something is up.

When I close the lid on the pizza box, she complains, "Hey, I'm hungry."

"You're not eating until you tell me what's going on. You've got a weird look on your face."

In a demanding, yet playful voice, she says, "Tyce, open the box."

"Morgan, no. Come on. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

In a gesture that almost brings me to my knees, she tilts her head and lowers her lashes. Finally, she meets my gaze and tells me she called her mom and asked for money to fund training for the Paralympics. For a second I just stare at her and then I pump my fist in the air in victory. "Yes! That's my girl!" I lean down until I'm almost nose to nose with her. "I'm so proud of you!"

She tells me it's not a big deal, but I stop her by placing my lips against hers and say, "Yes, it is." Then I brush my mouth across the scar on her cheek—not to mentally erase it—but to embrace it; to embrace her pain. Of course, Morgan doesn't know this. To cover my emotions, I open the pizza box with a flourish. Morgan won't look at me. To ease her mind, I begin discussing various aspects of her training.

After I return home, I knock on my mom's bedroom door. She's already in bed and reading a book. When she sees my expression, she motions for me to sit on the side of her bed and closes her book. She waits for me to speak.

"Remember when I told you I encouraged Morgan to train for the Paralympics and she refused?"

"Yes."

"She called tonight and invited me over to tell me she changed her mind. She's going to enter the competition."

"Tyce, that's wonderful. It sounds like the girl is making huge strides in her road to independence."

I nod my agreement.

Mom frowns. "So, tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong."

My mom shakes her head. "You can't fool me, son. You've got feelings for this girl, and because of that, you know you've got to tell her the truth. You're just afraid she'll reject you."

I shrug.

"Tyce, you've got to tell her!" Mom says strongly.

I run my fingers through my hair. "I can't right now."

Mom sighs. "When are you going to let go of the guilt? You've carried this burden for years. You were only sixteen and you didn't cause the accident...your father did."

"He may have been driving, but people lost their lives and Morgan ended up in a wheelchair. If I hadn't–"

Mom interrupts, "No, you're wrong. Your father–"

I stand up. "I'm really tired. I can't talk about this again."

Mom sounds like she's going to cry. "I can't either. Good night, son."

For several days I check up on Morgan daily. I know there's the possibility she'll get discouraged and want to quit training. She needs to build her upper body strength so I show up one night with dumbbells. She's just about to watch a movie and I grab the DVD out of her reach. She gives me her cute, "I'm mad as hell" look, but I'm insistent about working out and she finally caves in.

She asks if I'm going to work out, too.

I give her my best smart ass look. "Of course, I've got to show you how it's done."

She rolls her eyes. "You are so full of yourself."

When she asks what I'll do if she refuses, I lean close and whisper, "Tickle you." I inhale her fragrance. She always smells like vanilla. I can't resist a few tickles that get her giggling.

For the next hour I train Morgan in the basics of working with dumbbells. Now I have a legitimate reason to show up at her dorm every night.

Over the next few weeks, she makes great strides in increasing her strength and she talks excitedly about her progress in swimming. Purposefully, I have avoided going to the pool to watch. I don't want to make her nervous.

Kaylee has been begging me to bring Morgan back and I decide to also bring Lucy. I think Lucy will make Kaylee laugh, something she needs right now. Her health has declined even more.

Before we reach Kaylee's home, I warn Morgan and Lucy that Kaylee is very frail. I don't think Morgan realized how frail until she sees Kaylee's wheelchair. Morgan whispers to me, "What's going on?"

I have to tell her that the child is now on dialysis and there's still no kidney donor.

Kaylee and Lucy get along great, just like I knew they would. I think our visit cheered the little girl.