WALKING TO THE STARS
“Taylor, breakfast,” the nurse announced as she rolled a trolley into the room. Becky barely opened her eyes and reluctantly turned her head towards the door.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“Oh, come on, you need to regain your strength,” the doctor said, following the nurse into the room. Becky stayed silent. The nurse quickly set a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea on the bedside table and whispered, “Eat up, Dr. William is right,” then hurried out.
“Feeling spring-like today?” Dr. William smiled.
“Not quite,” Becky responded with a hint of sadness and turned toward the window.
“That’s good,” he continued, ignoring her tone. “The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow,” he informed her seriously.
“Will my chances improve?” Becky asked, turning to face him.
“Undoubtedly. Although a full recovery is still uncertain,” Dr. William admitted.
“Will I be able to walk?” Becky tensed.
“I don’t want to give you false hope,” Dr. William paused, “but we must use every chance we have.”
“I see…” Becky turned away again, not hearing when Dr. William left or noticing the cheerful chirping of birds outside her window.
The accident was severe. Becky’s friend, Sarah, was driving. In an attempt to avoid an oncoming car, she swerved, losing control on the slick road. The impact was unavoidable, striking on the passenger side. Becky regained consciousness only in the hospital. As she later learned, Sarah had fared better, with just a broken arm and concussion. Becky, however, had several fractured ribs, a compound fracture in her leg, and most critically, a damaged spine. The outlook was grim; the chances of Becky ever walking again were slim. While others might have been grateful just to survive, for Becky, the world ended overnight. Dance was everything to her: her life, her livelihood, her inspiration. Motion was to her what air is to others. And now, what was left?
Then came another blow: Tom’s reaction. They’d been dating for two years, and recently, Tom had proposed. Two weeks ago, Tom sat by her bedside, and without a word, Becky understood the wedding wouldn’t happen. When she recounted the doctors’ predictions to him, Tom sat silent, gazing at the floor, finally mumbling, “You still need to think positively. Everything will be alright.”
For the next three days, he never visited. Then came a brief message from him: “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” The last thin thread of hope within Becky snapped. She didn’t cry; she stared emptily at the ceiling, waiting for it to collapse on her and end it all.
Her mother, gently stroking Becky’s hand, tried to comfort her, insisting not all was lost, that they must fight, and that they would fight together. But Becky saw the redness in her mother’s eyes from tears shed as she left the room. Dr. William also encouraged her tirelessly.
“Why?” Becky asked one day.
“So you can be happy,” Dr. William replied simply.
“I’ll never be happy again,” Becky said. Dr. William looked at her closely.
“You will be. But it depends more on you than anyone else. I don’t have vast experience, but I’ve seen people overcome what seemed insurmountable, leaving even untreatable conditions behind, all because they wanted to live, find joy, and be happy.”
Becky remained silent, unwilling to live this way. What happiness could there be? she’d ask him, but decided against it. Doctors probably have to encourage their patients regardless.
“Can’t sleep?” Dr. William gently opened the door, letting a sliver of light into the dark room.
“No,” Becky replied, not realizing he had addressed her informally.
“Nervous?” he asked, sitting by the window.
“No.” Becky shrugged.
“Can you imagine the accident never happened and it’s ten years on? What would your life be like?” Dr. William asked, gazing out the window.
“I don’t know. Probably still performing. Maybe I’d be taking my daughter to dance lessons by now.” Becky almost smiled, but then recalled her cancelled wedding. “You know, he left me. As soon as he found out, he left.”
“Who?” Dr. William knew the answer. “Do you think he loved you?”
“I don’t know,” Becky shrugged again. “Maybe that’s just how it is in romantic movies, where love leads people through fire and water. In real life, they promise to fetch the moon, but…” Becky fell silent, realizing Dr. William was a man too. And quite young and handsome, she noted. Surely, he must have a wife or girlfriend whom he treats differently. He wouldn’t chicken out like her fiancé. He even supports a stranger like her.
“Right, Taylor, sleep well. Your stars will come,” Dr. William said as he left. Becky looked out her window. A patch of starry sky was indeed visible. “I wish a star would fall,” she thought, but none did, at least not before sleep claimed her.
“How are you?” Dr. William stood by Becky’s bed. “Dr. Smith said the operation went well.”
“Maybe. I still can’t feel my legs,” Becky sighed.
“Look what I brought you,” Dr. William handed her a small box. Becky opened it and smiled. Inside were glittering, tiny confetti stars. “Work hard, and you’ll reach the real stars on foot,” promised the doctor.
Rehabilitation was long, exhausting, and seemingly futile to Becky. William, who she now called by his first name too, visited often. They chatted like old friends, discussing all sorts of topics. William could divert Becky from her gloomy thoughts, and she began to believe his words that her efforts would not be in vain.
“How’s today?” William asked after Becky’s daily exercises, where a nurse tried to awaken her unresponsive legs.
“Same as always,” Becky spread her hands.
“The lilacs are blooming,” William handed her a fluffy branch. Becky inhaled the fresh, tickling aroma and eagerly searched for a five-petaled flower.
“Nothing here,” Becky pouted, lifting her eyes.
“What about here?” William offered another small box. She smiled, expecting more stars. But as she opened it, she froze briefly. Inside was a small ring with a tiny stone sparkling like a star in the sunlight.
“Will you marry me?” William asked as Becky shifted her gaze from the ring to him. Becky stayed silent. William exhaled nervously and sat on the bed.
“You’re sitting on my foot,” Becky said quietly. “You’re sitting on my foot!” she shouted, laughing. “You sat on my foot! I can feel it! I can feel my foot!” William jumped up and laughed too. Then Becky cried, smiling as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” William worried. Becky shook her head:
“Remember, I said I’d never be happy? I truly thought so. But today, I am. And if you’re not afraid to ask a cripple to be your wife, then I hope shedding tears doesn’t scare you either?” Becky laughed again.
“Nothing scares me,” William replied, looking tenderly at his fiancée.
***
“Mum, did you see? I did it!” Amy ran over to the bench where Becky sat.
“Of course, I saw. I recorded it all for Dad. You’re amazing,” Becky hugged her daughter.
“Ms. Jenkins said I’ll dance in the center,” Amy boasted. “Does that mean I’m the best dancer?”
“Absolutely,” Becky whispered, sharing a secret. “But shhh, if you become conceited, it won’t happen.” Amy nodded knowingly. “Now let’s get ready; we’re picking Dad up from work.”
Ten years passed. Becky couldn’t dance on the big stage anymore, but she performed beautifully at her wedding. As William noted, certainly better than him. The journey to the stars had been long for Becky, but she and William made it. To always remember this, and to dream and hope no matter what, Becky suggested painting their bedroom ceiling with a starry sky. William agreed. Every morning, Becky opened her eyes, knowing she could reach the stars if she wished. Any and always.
