“You can ask about it, you know,” she says while her head is flat against her shin.
“Ask about what?”
She lifts her head up and purses her lips. “My MS. Judging by how lost you were at Tanya’s the other day, I’m guessing you didn’t know before then. Now that we’re alone, you can ask.”
She seems shocked, a little angry, and a little hurt that I didn’t know before the other day. Why would she think Micah had told me about it? We’re not exactly in a place where he should feel comfortable telling me his sister’s medical business.
Unless … unless she thought he would’ve told me before.
My mind trails back to our second demise. The time when Micah left me in New York. I thought Micah and I were building something real back then. Everything was happening so fast considering we hadn’t seen each other in five years, but it felt so right at the same time. I thought we were working toward a future together. In hindsight, I don’t know why I thought that. We were so young. I was all of twenty-five and doubting what I wanted out of life. What the hell did I know about long-lasting relationships? What do I know about them now, for that matter? I don’t know why I allowed myself to wish for it, but I did, and then he left. He went home to Baltimore because Bailey was really sick and needed him. He promised he’d be back, and I believed him. But then the calls got shorter and less frequent. The texts became more sporadic. We went from one hundred to zero in what felt like no time at all, and I never figured out why. The final straw was when I got a job opportunity in London that would keep me there for six months. I tried to glue us back together by asking him to go with me, but the pieces no longer fit. He said no.
And I never heard from him again.
I thought it was about me, but now I see it was about protecting Bailey.
I wish it brought me peace to realize that situation wasn’t what I thought, but it doesn’t. I suppose I am grateful to realize it was never going to work out, not when he clearly wouldn’t trust me enough.
A humorless laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. Right now, this isn’t about Micah or me. It’s about Bailey.
I spent some time researching MS after I found out, wanting to know as much about it as possible. I still have a ton of questions about her specific case, but I feel guilty asking them.
Bailey shouldn’t have to sit here and play doctor to explain her disease to me like she’s some sort of lab rat.
“I’m mostly curious about your exact experience, really. I read things about people going blind or needing wheelchairs, but I wanna know what you went through.”
“Yeah, honestly, I got lucky. At first, my legs would randomly give out. Literally, I’d be walking and all of a sudden, I’d be on the ground because my legs buckled beneath me. I didn’t think too much of it at first, thought I was just tired, but you can imagine my concern when it would happen mid-performance. My entire body would feel sore and bone-tired after the smallest activity. And I was having trouble with my vision. It was fucking terrifying. Like, all this work I’ve put in to be a dancer and it’s about to be over? How is that fair?”
“But then the symptoms went away?”
“No. After I finally learned it was MS, I got treatment and it slowed down the progression. Right now, I’m in remission. Haven’t had a relapse in a couple years.”
Every answer she gives only sparks more questions in me, but I won’t bombard her right now. I’ll happily learn as we go along in this friendship.
“And, are you and Micah okay?” I ask. They seemed fine when I saw them at Tanya’s house the last time, but there was clearly some tension between them the first time they were there together.
She huffs, stretching her arms above her head. “We’re good. Until he inevitably pisses me off again.”
“This is why I like being an only child,” I joke. “Do you guys get into it a lot about your MS?”
“Too often,” she sighs. “I get it, he’s worried about me, but I know my body. I’m the one who said something was wrong. And he was by my side the whole time fighting to make the doctors listen to me, but it’s like sometimes he forgets I’m the one who has to live with this, not him.”
The boy’s got a bit of a savior complex. I think most men do. There’s a difference between intent and impact, and if Micah doesn’t loosen the reins a bit, he runs the risk of permanently damaging his relationship with his sister. I don’t want that for either of them.
“Keep setting your boundaries with him. Micah’s smart—for a man. He’ll get it eventually.”
“He better,” she snorts.
We laugh more about everything before I turn on my music and start dancing. She cheers me on and shouts out a few tips about footwork and ideas when I can’t figure out how I want to move to a song.
Her input inspires me to dig deeper until I’m confident in the piece I put together.
Justin comes back after a while and joins in on the fun, allowing me to teach them the steps Bailey and I came up with.
As I leave the Lab to get in my car, I take out my phone to call Micah.
He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Micah. Are you busy?”
