It was such a struggle to stand, just to pull himself up on his own two feet. It was mostly through his upper body strength, which had increased exponentially since the…incident. But he could do it. He could balance while holding onto the walker, holding on firmly like some old man. He could stand.
He stood in the middle of the crowd of college kids and almost college kids, stood as the band introduced their special guest. He watched as everyone else stood with such ease all around him and he's had to train himself to stop envying that ease.
Ashley looked beautiful, like she always did. Like she did in eighth grade, when he was so in love with her he couldn't think straight. Like she did in ninth grade despite the dark clothes and the dark make up and the short hair. He'd looked beyond that goth stuff to her beauty beneath. Of course Craig seemed to see her differently and maybe that was why he'd ultimately won out over him. But he was standing up right now, standing near Ashley.
He heard them say "Craig Manning" up on the stage, the name of his old friend ringing out to applause over the crowd. His old friend. They'd taken different paths, they'd faced different things and he hadn't talked to him in well over a year. He'd heard of the whole coke disaster but hadn't really been a part of it. He remembered Craig coming to see him in the hospital, babbling about himself and about Ashley and how sometimes he enjoyed the distraction and sometimes it pissed him off.
He walked out onto the stage now, looking more comfortable on a stage than he did anywhere else. He glanced over at Ashley and he saw that look. He saw it.
"You knew it was him? You knew he'd be here?" he said to her, and he couldn't understand where all the bitterness in his voice and in his questions had come from. He and Ashley had parted company…again. He had no reason to be angry, or to be jealous. It wasn't like Craig was winning again. It wasn't a contest. It just was.
"Yeah. He e-mailed me," she said, and he looked at those jewel blue eyes, that smile. Ashley. His Ashley. For a time, anyway.
"I'm going on tour with him in Europe," she said, and he had to wonder why that hurt him deep inside, like some knife twisting. He trembled on his dead legs and glared at her.
"Great," he said, "send me a postcard,"
She turned from him and he gripped the walker hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Craig stepped up to the microphone and greeted the crowd, his arms spread wide like some messiah. He'd forgotten how sometimes he could hate Craig Manning.
He took a deep shuddery breath, watched Spinner tell anyone who would listen that he used to be Craig's drummer. He kept quiet about his own role in rock star Craig Manning's rise to fame. Or semi-fame. Or whatever it was.
"I'm glad to see so many of my old friends here today," Craig said, and Spinner smiled wide. Craig wasn't looking at Spinner, or Manny, or Emma. Or him. He was looking at Ashley.
"But I couldn't have made it without one of them. She's always been my inspiration," He looked at Ashley and saw the lovesickness had crept back into her eyes, turning them the color of smoke. He wanted to puke.
"Ashley Kerwin," he said, and invited her up onstage, and Jimmy heard Ash's full name echoing across the crowd, across the room, across his mind.
She went up, and onstage she looked deep into Craig's eyes, touched her knuckles to his in that oddly intimate gesture, and Jimmy wobbled as he kept his grip on the walker. His wheelchair was behind him but he didn't need to use it, not yet. He was still standing.