She Remembers

She lies in bed, wrapped in a sweater that belongs to him. Belonged to him. Years worth of photo albums are splayed out all around her. Pictures of happy moments, thrilling moments, surprising moments and sad moments. But none are as sad as she feels right now. She had tried to go through them. She had tried to find happiness by looking at happiness. But that had not worked. So she had gone into their walk in closet. Straight to his side, where every single one of his clothes still were. Except for that one suit. She needed to feel his clothes, smell them. She needed to feel him. In the end she settled on a sweater. It was an old one. She had bought it for him on his 32nd birthday, keeping with their tradition of giving each other so called "personality" clothes. It had always been a thing. From the day they met, they were so connected that they would unconsciously buy clothes they knew each other would like.

She remembers the day they met; she remembers everything about it. It was a February afternoon. In her memory it's murky and cold but she knows that's not the case. It was Los Angeles after all, a city known for high temperatures and sunny days. She remembers the shivers that ran up and down her back and arms. She remembers her thoughts, she remembers missing Oakland and she remembers voicing her doubts.

Maybe this isn't such a good idea, mom.

Zendaya, darling, we've been over this. You begged us for this. You practically held Power Point presentations to explain to us how good this would be for both your career and you personally. And you know you've signed the contract. Look at me. If you really think that you can't do this, your father and I will go and talk with the producers and we will try to find a solution. But that has to be your choice. This is all you.

She remembers that conversation like it happened yesterday. And she remembers realizing that she could never turn around and leave. So she didn't.

She remembers walking into the rehearsal space and heading straight for that elevator. Pushing the button only to hear someone shouting and running towards her. She knew who he was. She had watched the show at home with her parents, and she had also been in the ballroom a year before, supporting her co-star and friend Roshon. She had giggled with Bella about how handsome he was and how fun he seemed to be. But now, the only thing that ran through her mind was a prayer. A prayer that begged everyone who would listen to not pair her up with him. Because she had watched last season open mouthed and a little horrified. Because she knew that she would never be able to connect with him on any level. Because this man was designed to dance with grown women. How wrong she had been.

She realized after their first rehearsal that they were made to dance with each other. All of her doubts, fears and insecurities vanished as soon as he looked at her, because he looked at her with hope and with pride. After his initial shock of her age, he made a promise not to mention it again. She was mature and she was ambitious and he said that connecting her age with her ambition would only seem to trivialize her accomplishments. You aren't great for a 16 year old he would say. You're just great.

She learned everything about life 3 short months. He had been so willing to make her a part of his life and sometimes she thought that it meant something a little bit more. She remembers the talk she had with her parents. She was surprised at how quickly they had sat her down but maybe they had seen the way she looked at him. They had definitely seen the way she looked at him. It was a talk that they thought was needed and one that she dreaded. You see, from the moment she started working for Disney, she had been told that the best way to keep gossip to a minimum was to call other boys and men her "bros." She didn't mind that at all because that's what they were. She wasn't interested in anything but her career. But then he came along and saying that word around him felt like getting battery acid on your tongue. She knew it was stupid. She knew that he was a 28 year old, sexually active man and she knew that she was his friend. His surrogate sister. And that fact hurt. But she had a lot of brothers. One more wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And for a year, it didn't.

She remembers their first kiss. They had been rehearsing for Sway and tensions were running high. He had been seeing a girl from the Dancing with the Stars troupe but apparently that was over and he was agitated. She had tried to talk to him about it but he just shrugged it off and vented his anger by yelling out instructions. Normally Alex would've been there to record their rehearsal so Val could study it but he hadn't shown up and that had only made Val more frustrated.

Have you forgotten how to point your toes? I thought you were better than this. Why did I ask you to be in this who again?

Val! I do not deserve the treatment you are giving me. I'm going to call my dad and ask him to come and get me because it seems I can't even calm you down.

Z, wait. I'm so sorry. I've been acting horrible and I know there's no excuse for my behavior. This is just really stressful you know, setting up your own show. Not knowing if it's gonna fail or not, how the audience will like it, IF the audience will like it, if it will get any press and if it will how … -

Val, stop. I know you. I know that you're a perfectionist that wants everything to be just like you want it. I also know that you have your brother and Tony with you all the way and of course every single dancer in this show. We're not gonna fail you. I've got you. We've got you.

You promise?

Of course silly. Now, wanna talk about Jenna?

Not really, no. And before you ask why, there's nothing to talk about. It just wasn't going anywhere. I needed something … else.

What else?

You don't want to know. Believe me.

I don't though. Believe you. What do you want?

And then it had happened. It was fire. It was jolts of electricity and a burning desire. It was everything she knew she needed and everything she never knew he did. It was the kiss. The one you read about in Jane Austen novels. Sweet and lingering, like a caress on your cheek. But it didn't last. They were both afraid. He was afraid of the consequences, she was afraid of the feelings. But now they knew. And it made everything manageable. The distance didn't seem as vast. The days didn't seem as long.

They talked for months. They talked about their feelings. They got to know each other on a whole new level. And finally she didn't fear the things she felt. She had complete control of herself. The same could never be said about him. Every time they were apart, she would wake up to comments on her photos or cryptic tweets that were clearly meant for her. And she'd never mind. She knew that it was his way of dealing. Because every hour spent away from her was torture for him. He told her that every day.

She remembers when they told their parents. It was Christmas 2016. Their families had decided to spend it together, on the incentive of her and Val.

We know had been their reaction. We've always known. It was a relief. They had danced around the topic for months, at times getting frustrated with each other's lack of interest in revealing their relationship, never on the same step, either one always trailing a little behind. But that night they had been grateful. Grateful for being able to spend the holidays with their families, everyone together at last. Grateful for being able to love each other openly and ending the evening cuddled by the fire, holding hands under a blanket. They were grateful for finding each other and being courageous enough to follow their hearts.

She remembers the night he proposed on their vacation in Barcelona. She remembers the feel of her bare feet in the sand at the beach in Corona Del Mar, where he promised to love her forever, through sickness and in health. The look on his face when she told him she was pregnant; the look on his face when they were told they were having twins and the look on his face when they were first laid in his arms.

He's gone now. Buried in the suit that is missing from his side of the closet. She doesn't want to remember anymore. She wants to feel. And so she rises up from their bed, walking downstairs with newfound strength and takes their children in her arms because that's the only way she can feel him.