It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,53

about it.

Think about Gatsby. You’ve got a test coming up.

Hey, how did you know that?

There are always tests. Right?

True. True.

Gnite, Elsa.

Gnite, Julian. Sweet dreams.

I was hoping you’d say that. Sweet dreams, you too.

Nineteen

There are stories we tell ourselves to get through dark times. I’m no different. No matter what is going on in my life, I find consolation on the printed page. Stories prepare us for difficult times. Stories scare us away from dangerous choices. But most of all, stories distract us.

This morning, the stories I’m telling myself are distracting me from what’s happening with my body. With my leg in a cast and me not being supercoordinated to begin with—and also having an extreme tendency toward muscular spasms, you know, because I have spastic CP—Mom’s going to have to help me bathe. Hurrah.

Mom pulls out the Hoyer lift, and I can’t help but groan.

“I’m sorry, Jenna, but we don’t have a choice.”

Rena used to dress my Hoyer lift with props from the drama department. Long, golden-haired wigs for the Into the Woods performance that won her Best Actor for our school at State. A sword from Othello. Eighties wedge heels underneath, as if it had feet. Fashion-forward feet, of course. We used to throw things at it as it stood waiting in my closet. We’d boo and hiss.

“It’s the thing in the woods…” Rena would say. “The bad thing.”

Mom hoists me onto the shower chair, and I try my best to cover myself up while Mom struggles to wash me without hitting my cast. It’s wrapped in a plastic bag for protection. I grab the washcloth and try to clean myself, but I’m off balance with the cast, and all I can think about is how this is all Dr. Jacoby’s fault. Even though this moment of humiliation was really brought on by my foolishness.

In the book about my life, I decide, I’ll definitely have to include this scene. It would be crucial for the low point. It would propel my story forward. You know, if this were the book, or even the movie version where some new kid actress would get her breakout role. And if Ben were there with me on the movie shoot, as the producer, he’d say, “Look at you, girl, changing lives.” And we’d have the crew get us Pellegrino water with the bubbles stirred out, heavy ice, and a juicy twist of lime. Huzzah.

I stay silent as Rena stumbles into the bathroom, her hair a mess. “God, Mom, give Jenna a break. She’s got skin under there. Or she used to.”

“Very funny, Rena. If it weren’t for your recent stunt—”

“God, Mom, people break legs,” Rena retorts. “It does happen.”

“That’s true,” I say. “See? Proof.”

Mom just makes a face. This mom-ologue is going to be bad.

“I realize that, Rena. But answer me this: Do you think you are more likely or less likely to break a leg ice-skating when you are taking muscle relaxers and also happen to have cerebral palsy?” Mom’s lips are pursed and her expression is sour.

“I didn’t take my muscle relaxers, actually,” I say. “Just to be clear.”

“Yeah.” Rena jumps in. “And we brought her skates. Julian was with her.”

“I’m right here, Mom. If you want to be annoyed with anyone, be annoyed with me.”

Mom looks me over. “Don’t worry, I’m super annoyed with you as well. Turns out there’s plenty to go around!”

She wraps me up then Hoyer lifts my ass onto the bed, throws my clothes on the bed, and leaves me to put on my bra and shirt. Then she retrieves huge-assed granny panties I’ve never seen before from my top drawer. Which irks me on so many levels.

“Don’t make a face at me, young lady. These are the only kind that will go up over your cast easily.”

I let her pull them up for me, and I cringe as she does.

“Of all the stupid things, deciding to climb out of the house in the middle of the night, for what? To go skate? For God’s sakes. I thought you were smarter than that. I thought…” Here’s the anger I knew would come. Finally. I try to leave my body a little bit. To think of a story that will lift me as she pulls a skirt on me, then puts one boot on my other foot.

“You could have broken your neck.”

Ah. There it is. The “you could have broken your neck” part that Eric promised.

I breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. I try to