Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) by J.P. Grider Read Free Book Online Page A

shakes her head to the right and back, and her mother pulls her away from the table. After they leave, Johnny asks, "Why doesn't she talk? Is she unable to?"
    I take a second before answering. "Nah. I think it's a choice."
    "Who would choose not to talk? I don't get it."
    Coming up short on an answer, I shake my head and shrug a shoulder. Why would anyone choose not to talk?

9
     
    ROSE
     
    I love my mother. I miss her so much. Being away at college, I'd pretty much only see her during the holidays and breaks and all, but being here – and the reason for being here – I miss my mother pretty bad.
    But I wish she hadn't overheard that Johnny boy asking why I don't talk. It disappoints my mother. More than my missing leg, it breaks my mother's heart that I don't say anything anymore. I'm sure if she could have her way, she'd gladly have her smart-aleck daughter sassing back at her again. Not that I was all that sassy, but if I didn't like something, I made sure to have my opinion heard. That was just me. If it was on my mind, it was out of my mouth. In a polite way though; I always made sure to remain polite, even if I didn't want to be. Now...I'm completely different. I'm not polite. People talk to me; I don't respond. People give me pudding; I don't say thank you. Mother visits; I can't say, "I love you."
    But I want to do all those things. It's almost as if my brain won't let me. Like if I start talking, I make this whole thing real. If I start talking, I'm giving in and accepting this fate. I don't want to accept it. I don't want to be a one-legged human being who can't dance anymore. Dancing was everything to me. How can I possibly survive without it?
    "Rosie." My mom breaks my train of thought. "I contacted your friend Holly."
    "No," I want to say, but I don't.
    "It wasn't easy. She's not in the dorms this year, and the school wouldn't give me her new address, but...I went to that bar you mentioned. The one where you said she had gotten a job once. I took a chance, and fortunately, she's still working there."
    I don't look at my mother. I close my eyes instead. You did not tell Holly. Please say you didn't tell her.
    "She'd like to come see you."
    No, Mom. No. I'm not ready.
    "She's so sorry she hadn't made more of an effort to find you. She just thought you were busy with dan..." Mom drops her head. "I apologized for not reaching out to her sooner. It was hard for me..." Mom shakes her head, her eyes still cast on the floor.
    I know, Mom. I know.
    My mother sighs, and it's so loud I'm afraid the whole room heard her. "Rosie, let her come. Please," she begs, her voice wet with tears she's trying not to shed. "Maybe seeing her will help. Get you to talk again." My mother's hands are shaking. "It hurts to see you like this, baby."
    I cover my eyes with my hand to block my own tears. I hadn't shed one since that day I screamed in the hospital, but ever since the other day, they seem to come so easily.
    "I told her I'd ask you first, but...I'm kind of hoping she comes anyway. She seemed insistent on it." My mother nods, trying to keep this conversation up by herself. One-sided conversations are hard, I'm figuring. "I did tell her it was only fair to ask you, but you don't want her to come, do you?"
    No. I don't. I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her pity. Anybody's pity. Things will never be the same again. My breath catches at this thought.
    My mother notices. She moves in closer and puts her hand on my leg. My good leg. I notice my mother won't look at my other leg. She doesn't want to accept this as much as I don't. To my face, she says, "Rosie, I want you to come home. But you can't until you know how to use your pros...your new...Oh, Rosie, just please do what they say." She's crying now, she can't help it. "Please, baby, so you can come home. Please. I know you'll feel better when you're in familiar surroundings."
    I blink for my mother. My acknowledgment of her plea. Then I lean forward to hug her.