Chapter 2

Song accompaniment: Take a Walk, The Head and the Heart

When Rose heard that Daniel had lost his leg, her first thought was that he wouldn't be able to dance anymore, which was stupid. Her second thought was that this was all too much for her to handle at once, which was selfish.

Daniel had never been a notably good dancer anyway, just better than Rose. When Rose had been invited to her first school formal her freshman year of high school, she had told Daniel about being nervous so many times over the phone that he had decided to come home from school for the weekend and teach her how to dance. He learned who her date was while teaching her the waltz.

"Tommy Vickers? He's too old for you."

"He's the same age as you," Rose had said.

"I'm too old for you."

"I don't know about that."

"Well, I do. Tommy Vickers is such a sleeze. I'm going to have a word with him."

At this moment, all the excitement that Rose had felt about Daniel's visit—his visit with the express purpose of seeing her no less—dissipated.

"No you will not," she said. "Do you really think I'm so disgusting that only someone with an ulterior motive would want to date me?"

"That's not what I said at all. You're always twisting my words around." Daniel had let out an exhausted sigh.

"Well, if I'm so difficult then, why'd you bother coming home?" she asked, storming off.

Daniel came and found her half an hour later and convinced her to continue the lessons.

"I'm sorry for offending you," he said. "I think Tommy Vickers is too old for you, but I suppose that's a decision you have to make for yourself."

"I think you're just jealous I'm going to be dancing with someone who's not you," Rose said.

"Don't be gross, Rosie," Daniel had replied.

Rose had not been trying to be gross, but was too demoralized by this answer to protest much. She didn't even bother chastising Daniel for calling her "Rosie."

Now, Daniel wouldn't be able to dance or run or maybe even walk—not normally anyway. And Rose was adjusting to all of these new things Daniel couldn't do one month after her mother had been diagnosed with colon cancer and a week before her New York teacher's license exam. Still, when she thought about her initial reaction to Daniel's injury, she felt deeply ashamed. Thinking about it in terms of herself was disgraceful, immature. Almost as immature as storming out of dance lesson just because the boy you liked didn't see you the same way you saw yourself. Rose had gotten over all that a long time ago—the immaturity, the juvenile crush on Daniel, the desire to learn how to waltz.

After her moment of unforgiveable selfishness, Rose decided to dedicate herself fully to finding ways to make her mother happy, finding ways to support Daniel, and studying for her exam. She even scheduled these activities out for the week on a giant floor calendar she bought just for the purpose. When her mother told her during one of their phone calls that, at one point, doctors hadn't even been sure if Daniel would survive—the implication being that they should all be grateful he did and not dwell on any lasting injuries—Rose had felt worse, not better. The idea of Daniel lying there, terrified of what might happen to him, made her so sad she could hardly stand it. She decided to redouble her efforts in all three areas—Daniel, her mother, and the test. As she couldn't double the hours in the day, she just began sleeping less.

First, she passed her exam. Then she found a job in Goldham, where her mother lived, instead of New York City, where she had been working while studying for the exam and where she had been planning to stay. Finally, she agonized for hours over the perfect welcome home present to get Daniel, assigning just as much important to this quest as to the search for the job.

She was so nervous about seeing Daniel in the hospital that she had formulated a detailed plan of attack. She would look at his face and only his face, not allowing her eyes to dart to his leg or her smile to falter. She would walk quickly and without hesitation. It would be like jumping into a cold lake and getting it over with all at once, the way she used to when she was a kid. As soon as she had actually seen Daniel, though, she realized she hadn't needed to worry. He looked just the same as he always had, only without a leg, which was significant but something she had been imagining for so long she had grown used to it. Upon seeing him for the first time in years, she had forgotten her plan entirely. She looked at his face and only his face. She walked quickly and without hesitation. But it wasn't part of her plan anymore. She hardly gave it any thought at all. Her excitement propelled her forward and it was like jumping into a lake but in a different way than she had expected. It reminded her of sweltering days in August when she would slip out of the house and run to the small, murky pond behind her house. Her plan was never to jump in—the water was algae green and silty—but she always did anyway, unable to stand the heat for a second longer once the cool water was in her sights, waiting for her. She had brought Daniel to this pond a few times, but he had refused to get in the water, saying it was too dirty. That was one of the differences between Rose and Daniel. Daniel considered things carefully before doing. Rose just did.

The second time Rose visited Daniel, he was up and walking, but did not seem happy about it, or particularly happy to see her either. Perhaps "up and walking" was an overly generous description. When she entered the ward, Daniel was walking with two crutches, avoiding putting any weight on his right leg, which was now attached to a prosthesis. He nodded at her, but didn't say anything.

"Now try putting some weight on that right leg," the man walking with Daniel said.

Daniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before shifting his weight to rest evenly over both legs. The effect was immediate. His right leg collapsed underneath him and he fell to the ground with a thud. Rose did not try to help him up, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it.

"All right, we knew that might happen," the man said. "Now try to get back up."

Daniel raised his head and gave the man a look of disgust.

"Or maybe we could call it a day," the man said.

Daniel nodded and moved to get up, but seemed unsure of how to proceed. He pushed himself up so he was kneeling, still only putting weight on his left leg. As he lifted his left leg to take a step up, however, he let his right knee touch the ground, supporting him for just a moment. Rose saw his eyes widen in pain as he did so, but this time he remained steady, pulling himself up on his crutches.

"Good work, Sousa," the man said, beginning to walk away before Daniel called him back.

"Hey, Bronson. Thanks for pushing me."

The man smiled. "You always gonna give me such murderous looks when I do?"

"Probably."

Daniel forced a smile that instantly disappeared as soon as Bronson turned his back.

"That was embarrassing," he said, making his way back to his chair and studiously avoiding eye contact with Rose.

"Which part?" she asked.

"Is that a joke?" Daniel settled into the chair with a groan and leaned the crutches against the wall. Within a few seconds they had fallen to the ground with a clatter. Rose moved to pick them up but Daniel held out a hand to stop her. "Just leave them."

Rose nodded and took a seat on the edge of Daniel's bed.

"It wasn't a joke," she said. "I don't think there's anything embarrassing about working to get better at something."

"Even if that something is walking?"

"Even then."

Daniel looked into Rose's eyes for the first time since her arrival and smiled sadly.

"Sorry I'm such a sad sack," he said.

"You're not."

"So, how's your mom doing?"

Rose bristled at the question, sitting up straighter. Junior year, she had lived in a boarding house with a group of dancers. They had all looked so elegant, walking around with their perfectly vertical spines and graceful limbs. Rose still couldn't dance but she had been able to adopt the posture, relying on it especially in uncomfortable situations.

"She's fine," she said.

She could instantly tell Daniel didn't believe her. He furrowed his brow and looked at her like someone might look at a lost puppy.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped. I don't look at you that way, she wanted to add. And I absolutely could.

"Sorry."

"No," she said, immediately feeling guilty. "It's fine. It's just that, she's not doing so well. She's having trouble swallowing food. She hasn't been able to eat anything in a few days. I talked to her doctors and they say this isn't the end but I have to wonder if it would be better if it were. I mean, what more can happen? I'm sorry. Is that a horrible thing to say?"

"No, not at all. I understand what you mean." Daniel frowned. "Should you be here visiting me then? I don't want to take you away from her."

"It's fine. She's mostly been sleeping lately. Your dad's with her actually."

Rose and Daniel's father, Ed, had made a pact around the time Rose's mother got sick and Daniel got shot that they'd help each other through whatever happened next. So far, Rose had needed more help than Ed but he didn't seem to mind.

"You'll see. Soon I'll be needing you," he had said recently. Then added, "Not that anything's going to happen to happen to Daniel, of course. I just mean, well, I'm sure I'll be needing you for something. Just, don't worry about it, Rose."

Daniel and Rose looked at each other without saying anything. Rose wondered what there was to talk about when your days consisting of relearning how to walk or caring for a dying mother. She was teaching now, but the first few weeks had not gone as well as she had hoped and she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. The problem wasn't so much her students, as the other teachers. Most of them were older and still remembered her from when she was a student at Beverly—an unruly, troublesome student—and they held a grudge. This had initially struck Rose as exceedingly childish until she reflected on all the fights she had gotten into at Beverly, all the teachers she had verbally thrashed. Her psychology textbooks in college described this behavior as "perpetuating the cycle of abuse," the phenomenon in which an abuse victim metes out the punishment they suffer at home on anyone else they can. Until she reached seventh grade, this was how Rose had treated everyone except for Daniel and her mother.

Rose surveyed the room, looking for something interesting to comment on. On her second optical sweep, she noticed a small, yellow object lying on the floor near where Daniel had fallen.

"Is that yours?" she asked, getting up to retrieve it.

"I can get it," Daniel said, beginning to rise from his chair.

"Don't be silly," Rose said. "Unless you'd like the practice, I suppose."

Daniel waved away the suggestion, sinking back into the chair and looking sheepish. When Rose reached the yellow speck, she realized why. She picked it up and turned back to Daniel, holding a tiny, stuffed giraffe, the size of her palm.

"I had forgotten about this," she said.

Daniel blushed. "How could you forget someone as important as Mr. Long Neck?"

"Mr. Long Neck?"

"Yeah, that's what you named him."

"Not me."

"Yes you," Daniel said. "That's what you told me his name was when you gave him to me."

"No, you must have named him that yourself afterwards," Rose said. "How old were you then, Daniel? Twelve? How embarrassing for you."

"I distinctly remember you telling me his name was Mr. Long Neck."

"Human memory is notoriously faulty."

"So why couldn't it be your memory that's wrong?" Daniel asked.

"Because he was my giraffe."

"I've had him for longer, though."

"Wow," Rose said, turning the figurine over in her hands. "I can't believe you kept it all these years."

About a month after her first meeting with Daniel, eight-year-old Rose was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of a siren. She never slept that soundly—a person couldn't, living with a man like her father—but the siren likely would have woken her regardless. It was so loud. She rushed to the window, to see the carrier of the sound was exceedingly bright as well. Soon, the red, blue, and white flashing lights had stopped at Daniel's house. She watched as a woman she didn't recognize was carried out on a stretcher and placed in the ambulance. Daniel's father followed closely behind, climbing into the back of the ambulance to join the woman. Daniel, for his part, stood on the last step of the porch—as close to the woman as he could be without leaving the confines of his house. After the ambulance pulled away, he stayed there for several minutes before retreating back inside. Rose watched as a light turned on in a second story window.

For a while, Rose sat cross-legged on her bed, trying to resist the urge to go over and investigate. She couldn't help it, though. There was a great climbing tree right by the window—a huge oak with thick branches that started close to the bottom. It would be so easy to climb in. And Daniel would probably be feeling sad and scared, the way she had been when they first met. She crept back out of bed, a mixture of curiosity and compassion drawing her forward. Just before leaving the room, she reached into a small box of treasures by her bed and pulled out the giraffe—a visiting present.

She ran across the field that separated the two houses as quickly as she could. Visions of her father watching her from the window unnerved her, but she knew that he must have been sleeping still. He was the only deep sleeper in the house. There was no threatening presence to keep him awake at night.

Rose felt better as soon as she reached the tree and hoisted herself up onto the first branch. From there, it was an easy scurry up to Daniel's window. He was just reaching for the light, his back to her, when she knocked. Daniel jumped and then turned very slowly. Rose waved at him, beckoning for him to come let her in. When he did, Rose tumbled into the room excitedly. Daniel looked less thrilled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "It's late."

"Hi, Daniel," Rose said, ignoring the question.

"Hi, Rose," Daniel responded, looking at her with suspicion.

Rose looked around the sparse room. The rafters were exposed like in an attic and the walls had no plaster or paint. It looked like a barn made into a house, which is exactly what it was. Still, it seemed pretty comfortable. It was warm enough and there was a model airplane hanging from the ceiling above Daniel's bed. In the corner was a desk and next to that was a dresser. Rose waited for Daniel to invite her to sit somewhere but when he didn't, she plopped down on the wooden floor.

"Was that your mother?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Is she sick?"

Daniel nodded.

"Is she going to get better?"

"No."

Rose nodded now too, solemnly, as if she had known the answer before she even asked. She at least felt like she had always known, after hearing it. She reached into her pocket for the giraffe and held it out for Daniel. "Here." He looked at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. She nodded excitedly to show him that he should take it. He did so, smirking slightly.

"Thanks," he said and Rose felt like he meant it.

"Why did they leave you behind?" she asked.

"This has happened before," Daniel said. "She might have to be there for a while. My father didn't want me to stay the night at the hospital and miss school tomorrow."

"You must get scared in this house all by yourself."

"No," Daniel said quickly, defensively.

"You were scared when I knocked at the window."

"Well I'm not used to strange people appearing at my window late at night."

"I'm not that strange," Rose said. Daniel raised his eyebrows in response. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world, as if she and Daniel were old friends and he had asked her over to sit with him in his time of need, as if she hadn't just shown up uninvited.

"No," Daniel said. "I think you should go home. It's too late for you to be up."

"I never sleep much anyway. I don't need it like other people do."

"Everyone needs sleep."

"Not me," Rose said. "You wanna go to sleep and I'll stay up and watch to make sure nothing bad happens?"

"No," Daniel said more forcefully.

He was growing impatient. Rose decided to ignore this. She was adept at knowing when someone's frustration signaled danger and she didn't pay it much heed when it didn't. She knew Daniel wasn't dangerous.

"Don't be embarrassed just 'cause you're older than me," she said. "I do this for my mom too and she's very old. She doesn't know I do it, but I do. When my dad goes out, I go and watch her sleep just to make sure he doesn't come back and do anything bad."

Daniel's face softened. He looked sad, but Rose couldn't understand why. He must have been thinking especially hard about his mother.

"What do you do if he does do something bad?"

"I stop him."

"How could you stop him?" Daniel asked. "You're just a little—"

"I'm big for my age," Rose interrupted.

Now Daniel laughed. "Okay."

"When I need to get help, I do. That's what I was doing that night I came over here. I don't usually need help, though."

"Does that happen often?" Daniel asked.

"Not a lot. A few times a week."

"A few times a week?"

"Yeah, but it's usually not as bad as that time was. Like I said, I can usually handle it on my own."

Daniel nodded. He looked far away, like he was thinking hard about something. Then he leaned forward and put his hand on Rose's shoulder like an adult talking to a child. "Rose, are you afraid to go home?"

"No. It's like I told you. I'm here in case you get scared. I'm not scared of anything."

As she said this, Rose imagined what would happen if her father caught her out of the house at this hour, talking to a neighbor no less, maybe saying things about him.

"All right then," Daniel said. "Thank you, but I think I'll be fine for the night. Come on, I'll walk you home."

"No!" Bringing someone over to the house was one of the worst things Rose or her mother could do.

"Okay."

Rose stood up and started for the window. Daniel laughed.

"You can take the door," he said.

Rose followed Daniel down the stairs to the front door. Once there, she wasn't sure what to say but thought she should probably say something.

"Sorry about your mom," she said. "I'll, uh, I'll pray for her." Rose's family didn't pray but she had heard people say this before.

"Thanks."

"Did I make you feel better?" Rose asked. "With the giraffe and everything."

Daniel smiled. "Yeah. You did."

"Oh good," Rose said. "That's what I wanted to do."

Daniel reached into his pocket where he had deposited the toy. "Want it back?"

"No, you keep him."

"Thanks, Rose."

"Okay," Rose had said. "Bye."

In the hospital, Rose smiled at the childhood memory as she handed the giraffe back to Daniel.

"I think it might be your turn to have Mr. Long Neck for a while," he said.

"Oh no. That was a gift. He's yours now. And I did not call him Mr. Long Neck."

"Gosh, you were such a weird kid, Rose."

"I was a charming kid," Rose said, knowing this was only selectively true.

"That too."

"I was way too creative to ever name a giraffe Mr. Long Neck. That was all you."

"I guess we'll just have to settle for not knowing," Daniel said.

"No we won't. I know, Daniel. I did not name that giraffe Mr. Long Neck."

Daniel threw his hands up. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Rose smiled mischievously. "I do know that."