Twelve

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Pacing through my room and chewing on my nails doesn't exactly calm my nerves

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Pacing through my room and chewing on my nails doesn't exactly calm my nerves. Emori hasn't responded to my text yet, and I'm not sure if she will. I mean, I can't blame her if she chooses not to hang out with me. We've been friends since we were young, why change that now?

My phone chimes and I launch myself across my bed.

"New message from Emori. Would you like me to read it aloud?"

"Yes."

"'I would love to.' Would you like to respond?"

"No." I can't help but yell out in excitement. She actually said yes! My heart pounds a hundred miles an hour in my chest, and I feel like I did when we won the championship game my Sophomore year. Excited. Surprised. Maybe a little scared for what's next?

I hear the door open and shut downstairs and rush - carefully - down the steps to greet my dad.

"What's got you zoomin' around the house?" he asks when I almost crash into him.

"She said yes. Emori said that she'll go on a date with me." I press my lips together to keep from smiling because if I do, I'm afraid my lips will tear.

He laughs. "It's about time you asked her."

I let out something in between a scoff and a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." I push him lightly. Then a thought hits me. "Hey, will you help me downstairs?"

"You want to work out again? I thought last time you said were too upset to do it anymore." He shifts his feet. "You sure you're ready?"

I shrug. "I won't know until I try. And right now, I'm in the mood."

He chuckles. "Well, okay. Let's go."

Once he leads me to the first machine, I get to work with my old routine. Some of the weights are lighter than before because it's been a few weeks and I have to get used to them again. And by the time I'm done with the third set, my dad is there to bring me to the next machine.

I used to be able to lift twice as much as I can right now. It's beyond frustrating. It's been two months since I've worked out regularly, but I want to get back into it again. Doctor Pierce said it will be good for me.

It helps to have equipment in our basement. That way, we don't have to go to the public gym and my dad can get to me easily. Plus, my dad is better at dealing with my disability than a bystander would be. I'd rather stay home with him.

When he brings me to the bench, Dad says, "I'll be back down in a second. I forgot to stock the mini fridge, so I'm gonna go up and grab a couple of bottles of water. Wait for me on this one, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

But as soon as I hear his footsteps disappear up the steps, I lay down on the bench. It shouldn't be too hard. I know how to do this, so why do I need to wait for him?

I grip the barbell and pull it off the hooks. It's heavy, but I know I can handle it.

After the first ten reps, though, I can feel my grip getting weak. When I try to push it back up, my shoulder gives out and it drops a little.

"Dad!" I yell, hoping he can hear me. My heart starts to race and I can't push the bar to the side. "Dad! Help!"

"Tay?" he asks, slightly far away. "Oh, shit. Tay!"

His footsteps thud downstairs, and the weight is pulled off of me. The barbell clanks into place and my dad yanks me up.

"Are you okay?" His tone is hard, but I know he's worried. He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me around. "I told you to wait for me!"

I swallow, putting my head in my hands. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"Thought what?" he asks. "That just because you could do everything else with minimal help that this would be the same? Tay, you should have known better. It's not the same anymore."

I wipe the tears away and stand up. "I'm going to my room."

"Tay, we're having a conversation, here."

"And now we're not." I push past him and feel for the banister leading out of the basement. "I'll talk to you in a little bit, Dad. I just need a minute, if you'll let me have one."

He sighs but doesn't say anything else.

Once I'm in my room I collapse onto my bed and smack myself on the head. What was I thinking? That could have ended a lot worse if Dad wasn't there to help me. I got lucky. Again.

I jump as my phone starts ringing.

As soon as I answer, I can tell by the tone of his voice that Travis is angry. "Your dad just called me. He wanted me to check on you. What were you thinking?" I try to speak but he doesn't let me get a word in. "You could have gotten seriously hurt!"

"But I didn't!" I snap. "You think I don't know that I could have been hurt? I know. I know better than anyone that something so small can hurt someone. I don't need another reminder."

"Apparently you do!" He scoffs. "You're being reckless. I mean, you weren't a goody-two-shoes before, but you never did anything that could seriously hurt you. You're not who you used to be."

"I haven't changed." Things have changed - my life has changed - but I haven't changed. Not fundamentally.

"Yes, you have!" For a second he's silent, but I can hear his heavy, angry breathing on the other side. "It's like the old you died in that crash. You're someone completely different. You act like there's nothing left for you. But you're still alive. You're still here. Not everyone gets that chance."

"Don't remind me of what I have when you've lost nothing." I sit up too quickly and bite my cheek. "I don't need another person pointing out all the shit I've done wrong."

"That's where you're wrong, Tay. I lost my best friend. You're pushing everyone away."

"I haven't pushed anyone away."

"Yes, you have. And you're still doing it." He sighs heavily over the phone, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to avoid another outburst. "Look, you're like a brother to me, man. But I can't just let you push everyone away. Take some time to yourself. Whatever you have to do to bring our Tay back."

Then the line goes dead.

"God dammit!" I throw my phone down and slump onto my bed.

So much for my good mood.

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