It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,38

during the procedure.

Mom, Dad, and Ben think I’m making a big mistake taking these classes that are too easy for me. Are they right? Was I too reactive? I remember when I used to be so sure of things. When I listened to Mom and Dad, mostly before the big dramatic birth-accident reveal.

But that kind of knowledge, the belief that there was a Jenna before and a Jenna after, that kind of thing changes you. Just like the baby who is turned into a crow because her mother can’t bear to have the baby she birthed, just like the swan princess that became something else because others needed her to be human or bird, I am part the thing I was supposed to be and part the one I became. My point is, I have been touched twice. Once by Dr. Jerkoby who jerked his hand as he delivered me, then again when I found out about the birth injury.

Part of me wishes I could go back to before, when I didn’t know. When I stood solidly behind Mom and Dad’s decisions for me.

I pick up one of my snow globes from the shelf above my desk. The ones Mom makes to commemorate family trips and exciting moments. The one I grab is of our last Florida vacation. We were in Boca Raton, Florida, to visit my mother’s aunt Judy. Eight years ago in August.

Eric and Rena went swimming. Body surfing, Eric called it.

It came right when we were planning my surgeries to loosen the muscles in my legs. We’d gone to the doctor to see if we could schedule them, but my growth plates were still open, so we had to put it off. We’d gone straight from the doctor to the airport, practically, and I remember how stunned I’d been. Dad and I had been so sure we’d be able to get it all set up. He’d planned an entire recovery movie list. He’d bought a bunch of board games. He’d notified his work that he needed time off. It was going to be epic.

I’d done some swimming in a pool before, but never in the ocean. Dad would sometimes walk me out to where I could still stand but the waves were a little choppy, but since he was out with Eric and Rena, I was left to hang out in the wet sand with the little kids.

Mom took video of Eric and Rena and Dad. I tried not to get pouty, but it was hard. Dad must have seen me or sensed my mood, or maybe he was feeling the same way. The next thing I knew he strode out of the waves, his hands out in front of him like a zombie.

“Aaaah,” I screamed.

He stopped directly over me and dripped on me on purpose.

“Hey,” I called out. “You’re drowning me!”

“I am?” He laughed, bent down. “You’re made of sugar now and you melt?”

“Maybe,” I said.

He turned to face Eric and Rena, then back to me. “So, want to try that?”

“Are you insane, David?” Mom put the video camera down. “No way. The water is way too rough today.”

Dad ignored her and crouched lower. He turned around and pointed to his back. “Climb on.”

I stared at him. Maybe he was insane. But then I remembered Dad’s face when the doctor said it wasn’t time for the operation. It had looked like he’d been punched in the gut. Dad was not a wait-and-see kind of guy. And I wanted to try something that could distract us, make us both feel better.

As I climbed on Dad’s back, Mom reached for his arm. “Don’t take her in too far.”

Dad turned to face her. There was a moment between them that I didn’t understand. “She’ll be fine, Sharon. She’ll be fine.”

Mom’s hand went to her mouth, but she backed up. Her signal for backing down. Dad turned toward the ocean, and we moved forward. The waves lapped up my legs. It was so much warmer than I thought it would be. Much warmer than the ocean on the Cape. I’m not sure exactly what it was that day that caused the magic. Maybe it was Mom’s worry for me; her constant fear of something happening to me made me want to prove that I was strong and brave and free. Maybe that was the catalyst that triggered my slacking muscles and got them ready to work.

All I know is something happened in the ocean that day. I closed my eyes