Page 34 of Brooklynaire
“Yay!” She claps her hands together. “I need to do a deep dive into my closet. This will be fun. How dressy is this party? I’m trying to picture tuxes on a beach. Sounds a little like awedding.”
“Dumbest thing I everheard.”
Becca snickers. “I’ll ask Georgia what to wear. I can’t wait to seeher.”
She looks so happy that I know I’ve donewell.
10
Rebecca
April 26
“Igot you!”says a disembodied voice nearby. Then the trainer clamps a strong hand around mine. His hand is warm and dry, whereas mine is a bit clammy. “Come on, Miss Rowley. Keep those eyes closed and startjumping.”
I’ve almost survived my first therapy session. I’m minutes away from victory. But jumping scares me, so I open my eyesinstead.
Dr. Armitage’s therapy center looks like a cross between a serious gym and a day-care center. I’m standing on a mini trampoline. There are mats, balance boards, a Ping-Pong table, and brightly colored balance balls in every size. I’ll be coming here three times a week for an hour and a half, doing whatever the trainer tellsme.
I give Ramón a sideways glance. He has curly black hair and laughing dark eyes, and beautiful, tawny brown skin. He’s the picture of health, essentially. And we’re still holding hands, because I’m afraid to do this exercisemyself.
“Come on now,” Ramón says patiently. He squeezes my hand. “Close those eyes, MissRowley.”
“Call me Becca,” I insist,stalling.
“Jump, Becca. Bounce your butt in the air before I make you stay after school for disobeying theteacher.”
Even though I know he’s joking, it’s a sobering thought because there’s somewhere I really need to go after this session. So I close my eyes, clutch his hand, and bounce tentatively on the trampoline. My sneakers don’t even leave the surface, the motion is so gentle. But it doesn’t matter. I’m swamped by nausea immediately. Alarmed, my eyes fly open and I grab Ramón with my free hand like a frightenedcat.
“So this is going well,” he says. Then helaughs.
“Can’t we go back to the walking? Or the balance beam?” I beg. Before this, I did ten minutes on a treadmill, some of the time with my eyes closed. So what if I had a white-knuckle grip on the sidebars the whole time. And the baby balance beam in the corner? Sure, it’s only two inches off the ground, but I walkedit.
“Nope! Let’s finish up here,” he says with far too much cheer. “But, hey, let’s have you bounce for a moment with your eyesopen. Just try that much.” He drops my hands and standsback.
Gingerly, I bend my knees, feeling my way toward abounce.
The point of vestibular therapy is to rewire the connection between my ears, eyes, and brain. We’re doing that by repeatedly disorienting me, thereby forcing my brain to recover again and again. Unless Dr. Armitage and Ramón are total crackpots, I’m supposed to get better.Slowly.
“That’s it,” Ramón says. “Pick a gaze point. You feelsolid?”
“Solid enough.” Except for my boobs. I wore the wrong bra for this outing. Live andlearn.
When all of my various parts are bouncing along, Ramón takes my hand in his. “Okay, Becca. Close your eyes and bounce fivetimes.”
I close them. One. Two… The world seems to lurch in space. Ramón’s grip tightens on my hand. “You’ve got this. Just a couplemore.”
But I don’t got this. On the fourth bounce, I’m so disoriented that my kneesbuckle.
Ramón catches me. He lifts me right off the trampoline by the hips and sets me on the ground. My eyes fly open and I grab his beefy shoulders for support. “The trampoline is trying to killme.”
“No, it isn’t. Trampolines are fun. We’ll have you bouncing like a pro in notime.”
When I come back here in two days, I’m going to remember to bring a puke bag as well as a sportsbra.
“Is my time up?” I askhopefully.
“We have five more minutes. Come over here. This part is easy—all you have to do is sit in achair.”
