“I got you, sis.” Bailey is vegetarian and she keeps her meals simple, so I should be able to knock this out in no time. I start prepping the food while she sits at the kitchen table. “I’m glad you called me.”
“Me too. You see how I do ask for help when I need it? So, you don’t have to assume I always need it.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I am. Glad you agree because I don’t like when you get on my bad side,” she responds.
“I’m gonna try not to be on that so often. And I really am sorry. I was wrong to shut you down like that and I promise to do better.” Helena says that protectiveness is a sign of love and that overprotectiveness is a sign of mistrust. I trust Bailey to take care of herself and I need to prove that to her. “And for the record, I think you’re the furthest thing from useless.”
“So you think I can’t handle myself?”
“I know you can.”
Where her diagnosis sent me into a panic, it gave her relief because she finally knew what was going on with her body. She immediately put her all into learning about MS, its causes and treatments. She searched everything she could on maintaining a career in dance with MS and things to do outside of work. When she wasn’t happy with her injection treatments because they left her with scars and was taxing on her schedule, she researched her options so she could make an informed decision. Ocrevus is an infusion therapy that she receives every six months. She talked through the pros and cons with her neurologist at length before deciding it was the right match for her lifestyle. Bailey is more than capable.
“But even if you didn’t have MS, I would still be extremely protective of you because, well, you’re my little baby. You’re a brilliant woman, but you will always be my baby girl. I will do my best to ease up on it, though.”
She wraps me up in a tight hug and smacks an obnoxious kiss on the side of my face. “I love you, Chopper. And thank you. I really appreciate it, forreal.”
“I love you too, Franky. Alright, alright, get off me.” I shake my entire body until she lifts herself off me, flipping me the bird. “So, did I make my way off the shit list because you wanted me to cook your food, or that’s just a happy coincidence?”
“Do you want us to be cool or nah?” She picks up a piece of raw broccoli and throws it at me, hitting my eye.
“Not if you tryna blind me and shit.”
“Whatever. Just cook my food, fool.”
Once I’m finished cooking her meals and fixing us both something for dinner, I sit with her at the table. “So, about the tour. First of all, congratulations. That really is a big fucking deal.” This is all she ever dreamed about when she was ten years old dancing along to Michael Jackson videos in our living room. “Second of all, tell me more about it. Who’s it with? Where y’all going?”
“It’s not set in stone yet, I still haven’t made up my mind. It’s for four solo rappers and they’re calling it the Legends and Icons Tour. They want me to be the choreographer.” She gives me more details about the tour and her role in it, and all the while her body is buzzing with anticipation.
“If you’re this excited, how come you haven’t told them yes?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m playing hard to get.”
Or did I manage to ruin the excitement for her? “Don’t pass on a great opportunity that could bring you so much joy because of your dumbass brother. Okay?”
She turns her head away to wipe her eye. “It’s not because of you. Well, not entirely. It’s a lot to think about! I wanted this once upon a time, but do I really want it now or do I think I should because the opportunity is in my lap? Because I really love teaching at the Lab.”
“The Lab would still be there.” Bailey has really found herself a family among the people there and I know she would always be welcomed back.
“I know it would. But still. I’m weighing my options, okay?”
“Okay.” I won’t push her in either direction. Whatever she decides will be the right decision for her.
With one final brushstroke, I’ve finally finished the portrait of Tanya.
I can’t believe it’s over. I’ve purposefully drawn out this process, not wanting to let her go too fast. And yet, it still wasn’t long enough.
“Wow. You’re done,” Dani says in awe from behind her camera.
We’ve been recording some footage for the documentary, but when the end was nearing, words failed us. All we could do was watch this final visual of Tanya come together.
“I’m done. Huh. That’s kinda crazy,” I say blankly.
Staring back at me are the different versions of Tanya. It’s a four-panel portrait meant to show how multifaceted she was. The top left panel shows Tanya sitting behind her desk, her legs propped on top with a queen chess piece in her hand. She’s donning a no-nonsense face, wearing an all-white power suit. Tanya was sweet and she was kind, but she was no fool when it came to business. She had her hands in many different pots, and she was always able to keep a firm grip on every single one of them. She used to say that loving her job is what made her so good at it, but it also made her a shark willing to bite the heads off of anyone who threatened her ability to do that job.
The top right panel shows Tanya on a stage accepting a philanthropic award for her volunteer and mentor work in the city with her head thrown back in a fit of laughter. Her shadow doesn’t match that image, though. Her shadow is her in a fetal position on the ground with her hands clutched to her face and her shoulders up to her chin. Tanya had a larger-than-life personality, but she was also a complex woman who suffered many losses. She carried the weight of those losses on her own shoulders and never dared to let anyone else see them.
