She carried that feeling with her into her physical therapy appointment that afternoon. Everly noticed. She brought it up during their post-session discussion.
“You seem to be in positive spirits today,” she said.
“I am.”
“Anything fun to share?”
Jasmine lifted a shoulder. “I spent some time with Will’s daughter this morning.”
“Will…Campbell?”
Jasmine nodded. The puzzled look on Everly’s face told Jasmine it hadn’t been her physical therapist who shared her contact information with Will.
“That’s interesting,” Everly said, sounding as though she was still trying to reason out how Jasmine and Will had gotten connected.
“Yeah. Katie and I picked out some dance shoes and outfits. I’m going to be giving her some lessons.”
“Really? That sounds fun.”
“It’ll be something different, that’s for sure.”
“I’d love to get Grace into dance when she’s old enough. At what age do kids typically start, anyway?”
The departure in the conversation from Jasmine’s treatment to the dance lessons made her uncomfortable. She paused a moment before answering, “Kids can start dancing as soon as they can walk, really. Pre-ballet and ballet are more around age four or five.”
“Perfect for Katie then.”
“I suppose so.”
Everly sat back in her chair, resting her hands on the subtle roundness of her belly. Her expression shifted in a way that told Jasmine she sensed her mood was faltering.
“I’m glad to hear you’re being productive with your time right now,” Everly said. “Usually when we get to this point in our sessions, you’re more stressed than happy.”
Jasmine frowned. She was stressed. A couple hours of dancewear retail therapy wasn’t going to change that. It annoyed her now that she’d let herself get distracted from her goals, even if only for a few hours.
“That’s because we’re nearing the end of our sessions,” she said, “and I’m not where I need to be yet to dance professionally.”
“But you’re better than you were a month ago,” Everly pointed out. “You’re much better than you were when we started seven months ago. We’ll work on it some more over the next few weeks.”
Swallowing the fear that threatened her during every one of these sessions, Jasmine said, “I know. And I’ll keep working my ass off. But what if it isn’t enough?”
Everly looked down at her folded hands for a beat, then back up at Jasmine. “That’s been the question for seven months, hasn’t it?” she asked gently.
It was. The difference now was Jasmine was losing faith in the unwavering belief that she’d come out of this injury back in top form. The alternative was too bleak to contemplate.
“Don’t lose hope,” Everly told her. “I’m not. That said, I’d like to offer a suggestion you might not like.”
“What is it?”
Everly rose and walked over to the other side of her desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a business card, handing it to Jasmine as she returned to her seat.
“A mental health counselor?” Jasmine said, reading the information on the card.
“Dr. Smythe specializes in working with athletes. You’ve gone through some significant changes over the past year. You’re facing some difficult decisions. I think speaking to someone who understands what you’re going through would be beneficial and healthy.”
“Maybe.”
Inside, however, Jasmine vehemently denied the need to seek more help because of this injury. She almost didn’t want to put the card in her bag, feeling as though she was conceding yet one more step toward her goal. By saying she needed to talk to someone about how she felt because she couldn’t dance, she was admitting she didn’t believe she’d get through this the way she envisioned.
“You’re taking some positive steps,” Everly said as Jasmine tucked the card away. “It’s great that you’re open to working with Katie, for example. Your overall attitude today was improved because of it, which is helpful when you’re recovering. Maybe teaching will bring you some fulfillment while you’re still healing.”
Jasmine’s spine straightened in protest. Was this really where her life was headed? Standing in a room full of kids teaching them to do what she no longer could?
The idea brought on a fresh onslaught of depression.
Unbidden, the memory of Will telling her about his property business entered her mind. He hadn’t seemed worried or crushed with depression about his baseball career coming to an end. Clearly one of the reasons for that was he had a plan for his future, one that didn’t involve baseball.
There was no doubt about it, she thought as she made her way to her car after her appointment. She had to come up