Rehab, Actors & Love

Good News/Bad News

I sat in Evan's office, nervously bouncing my knee as I waited for him to come back from the lab with the results of the test we took a couple of days ago. The test is supposed to tell us whether or not my vocal cords are strong enough to use constantly.

I jumped when the door opened. I turned around, trying to hide the hope. Evan laughed when he saw the look on my face. "Breathe, kiddo." I watched as he walked around and sat at his desk.

I felt my breath get stuck in my throat as he folded his hands over my still-closed results. "Well, all the work over the past six months has paid off." He smirked as my eyes widened. "Your vocal cords are about 62% stronger than they were when you first got here."

I covered my mouth, happy tears streaming down my cheeks. He laughed as he stood up, walked over, pulled me to my feet, and wrapped his arms around me.

"We did it," he whispered in my ear. "You did it."

Evan let out a small laugh as we pulled apart. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"What did I tell you, Della? I knew, from the very beginning, that you were going to get better. And, I can happily say, you are able to speak. A little every day, continuing your medication and drink schedule. You'll slowly see that talking normally won't hurt as much. Especially if you start off whispering and gradually get louder as you feel stronger."

I took a deep breath before saying, with tears still streaming down my cheeks, "Thank you, Evan, for everything. For helping me, for pushing me, for forcing yourself into my life. For never giving up on me."

"I have never been prouder of a patient," he said, his eyes watering. I pulled him back into a hug, him laughing as he rubbed my back. We sat like that, in each other's arms, until we heard a knock on the door. We pulled away and laughed as Evan invited the person in.

"We got the second opinion on the other matter," the nurse said, her voice slowing when her eyes drifted to me. She cleared her throat before handing him a file and quickly leaving.

"That was weird," Evan laughed as he made a funny face before opening the file. My heart sank when his smile fell.

"What is it?" I whispered. "What did you need a second opinion on?"

He cleared his throat before slowly closing the file and looking up at me, his eyes now filled with hesitation and pity.

"As you know, when you talk you use the main part of your vocal cords. That is what we have been focusing on."

"Yes," I said slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

"Well," he cleared his throat again. I got nervous as he reached over and grabbed my hands in his. "You use a different part, a different way when you sing."

"Evan," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat. "What's going on?"

"That part of your vocal cords hasn't recovered. At all, Della. So, that means. . ."

My nerves grew when he didn't finish his sentence. "That means what?"

"It means you won't be able to sing, maybe ever."

And just like that, what little hope and happiness I finally had back in my life, disappeared. Shattered. Crumpled. Disintegrated.

"No," I gasped, barely a whisper. I shook my head back and forth as the tears started streaming down my face.

"Della," Evan sighed. "Look, kiddo, there may be a chance you can. It would just. . . We would need to start a different kind of therapy, with medication that hasn't been tested or used in that way. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

The tone of his voice was familiar. It was the same tone the doctors used after the accident; filled with assumptions and false hope.

"You and I both know that's not true," I mumbled, not looking at him. "Just like how we both know I am never singing. Again."

I stood up and, before Evan could stop me, ran out of his office. I ran down the hall and turned the corner.

I gasped as I ran into someone, both of us falling to the ground. I stayed on the floor as tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Della?" Dylan stuttered. "Are you. . . Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I covered my mouth, trying to muffle the sob that escaped my lips. I failed when I felt Dylan suddenly next to me, slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest.

We sat on the floor as I sobbed into his shirt. The whole time, he sat there and let me. He didn't speak. He didn't try to get me to talk. He just held me as I cried.

Once I calmed down, he slowly pulled out of the hug. He smiled down at me as he reached up and caught a tear with his thumb. Dylan didn't say anything as he stood up, helping me to my feet. His hands were still on my arms, slowly rubbing up and down.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or write about it?" He tried to joke.

I took a step back, wrapping my arms around myself. "I got some good news, I guess," I whispered, not looking at him.

"Really? What kind of good news?" I looked at him when I heard the excitement in his voice. He smiled at me as he waited for me to explain.

"They ran a test last week and finally got the results. My vocal cords are strong enough to use. I can talk, every day. A little at first, but more as they get stronger."

"That's great!" Dylan laughed. He stopped when he saw me bite my lip and look away. "Della, if that's good news, why were you running out of Evan's office, crying?"

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to say it out loud. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I looked back at him, the tears gone.

"I can talk, but I'll never be able to sing."

By the look on his face, I could tell he didn't understand why it was that big of a deal to me.

"But you can talk," he said slowly, trying not to offend me.

"Of course you don't get it," I scoffed, taking a few steps away from him and wrapping my arms around myself.

"Well," he laughed slightly. "You could help me to better. . ."

He was interrupted by Evan calling my name. "Della," he sighed, letting out a sigh of relief as he jogged towards us.

Before he got to us, I walked away, not wanting to talk about this with him anymore. I couldn't hear any more fake reassuring comments or encouraging clichés.

Dylan's POV

My heart sank as Della walked quickly down the hallway, her head down the entire way.

"What did you say to her?" Evan asked, accusingly.

"Nothing," I stuttered. "She came running out of your office, sobbing. All I did was hold her as she cried, Evan. When she finally calmed down, she told me the results of her test. She is devastated for some reason."

"Her whole life revolved around singing before the accident," Evan said sadly as he watched Della disappear towards her room. "And I just told her she would never sing again."

He let out a disappointed sigh as he turned on his heel and headed back towards his office, running his fingers through his hair.

I hesitated before deciding to follow Della.