In his dreams, Artie could fly. He looked across the crowded dance floor and smiled at his girlfriend. A beautiful slow song began to play and he held out his arm, silently asking for the next dance. Tina just nodded and slowly approached him. Artie smiled and walked up to her. He counted the beat slowly and nearly sweeped Tina off her feet. They danced slowly, enjoying the music and each other's company. They inched closer, somehow fitting into each other's arms perfectly.
Artie smiled to himself. The music died down and soon, the picture of him and Tina faded to black. Artie's eyes snapped open to a very different beat; the harsh tone of his alarm clock. The boy took a deep breath and grabbed his glasses off the night stand. He laid there for a long moment.
He'd had another dream about dancing. Finally, when everything was going right, he had to wish for something better. He had to think about the one thing he could never do. Really, he was OK with that. He tried not to think about it. Usually.
Now as his alarm blared, he imagined the beat he would dance to if he could. Michael Jackson... Usher. He imagined standing on his feet, moving to the beat. Move your feet to the beat, Artie. Move, damn foot... Nothing. Of course not.
He wanted to shake out his legs, roll over, stand up and walk. That was impossible; it had been for over half his life. He tried not to think about it. He tried to be happy with who he was and enjoy what he had going on for himself. He knew he was smart and talented and finally somebody liked him, really liked him. Tina was great, she seemed to just want him to be happy.
But right now he wasn't. His legs were dead. It was the one thing he could never control and honestly that scared him. Every single day, he was trapped. He couldn't move an inch. At the end, that's what it always came back to. He couldn't freaking walk.
Artie's gaze drifted around the room and landed on the pair of crutches he'd borrowed from a friend. His friend hadn't asked for them back and secretly, Artie didn't want to return them. He thought maybe one day he could use them for real. He could start working out and gain some strength. Somehow, being able to stand on his own two feet had to be better than sitting in his chair all day. Somehow, he couldn't blame any of his doctors for never suggesting the idea. It was too little, too late. He knew he would never be able to pull his own weight.
His phone vibrated suddenly, nearly falling off the night stand. Tina liked to joke that Artie purposely kept his phone in his pants pocket where he couldn't even feel it. Yeah, it was on purpose. He got some sick pleasure from it.
He leaned over to look at his phone. The message was from Tina, something he'd been waiting a long time to hear. They'd come up with the phrase a long time ago, just in case someone would chance on one of their phones. He knew she was hesitant, but it seemed like she was finally ready. Artie smiled, barely daring to believe what he was reading. Somehow the irony of the sentiment fit the moment perfectly. 'We can dance if we want to.'