Chapter 12: Jena falls ill

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I still feel some pain when I reflect on the events that occurred over the next few years. It would be easy for me to blame Sapphire, but the truth is, I have to take responsibility for my own actions. Bear with me and I will try to relate what happened.

It was later in the year around the time Jena and I both turned eighteen. There was only a month to go until the big comp that we had been working towards was due to be held. Jena fell ill. It was some sort of lung infection and it really laid her low. She was in and out of hospital for tests and treatment; dancing or any form of exercise were taboo.

Of course, I wanted to keep practicing so that I would be ready for Jena's return. I needed a partner and ended up with Sapphire. She was a new girl and had only been at the school for a few weeks before Jena had fallen ill.

Sapphire was about a year older than me (I was to find out later); she had finished school and was attending uni. She was a tallish, attractive girl with short blonde hair; slim build, but a nice shape. She looked good as a dancer because she had poise and an air of elegance.

However, there was a potential problem. Ever since she had arrived, Sapphire had been making occasional eyes at me, and I'd been giving her the once over as well. Hell, she might be a bit older than me, but she was a doll.

Now, I didn't think that it was a good idea to try and crack onto a chick in the same dance class because it could become awkward, so I'd not made any moves . . . but now here we were dancing together.

The comp date came and went, the school year ended, and Jena was still sick. Then, as the new year started and I went off to uni, it got worse - the infection turned into pneumonia. Jena was in hospital on a ventilator and seriously ill. I visited her a number of times; she looked dreadful.

No one was saying it out loud, but it appeared that the poor girl was at death's door. I was becoming quite distressed; somehow it seemed so unfair. She had gone through so much with her gender change, and now to be laid low by some awful virus.

The weeks became months and finally there were signs of improvement. Jena's folks reported to me what the doctors had told them.

"They say that if she hadn't had been so fit, she wouldn't have survived. We have you to thank for that, Garth."

"No, no, please. I may have helped with encouragement and so forth, but it was Jena who did the work."

"The doctors are warning us that she is not out of the woods yet, but at least there is now reasonable hope."

A month or so later, Jena came home from hospital, but she was mostly bed-ridden. I went and saw her, and she gave me the bad news, with tears in her eyes.

"Garth, they are telling me that my lungs may not recover enough for me to undertake any form of strenuous activity in the future. They're saying that I need to reconcile myself to the fact that it is unlikely that I will ever be able to dance again. I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry."

Bloody hell. How could everything have suddenly gone so wrong.

"Jena, Jena, you mustn't concern yourself about me. You're strong, continue to be strong and focus on your recovery."

She gave me a weak smile, "I always do what you tell me, don't I, but there is something you must promise me."

I returned her weak smile and she went on, "Garth, you are such a good dancer. I don't want to be responsible for you not achieving your potential. So I want you to promise me that your will find a new partner and not wait around on the very remote chance that I might return someday."

"Oh, Jen."

"Please Garth, it will relieve my mind. Please dear."

"Okay, okay," I sighed with despairing resignation, "if that's what you want, I promise."

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