5
The past year had also been an ordeal for Cristina's patient. Rachael could not forget her sister Rita. They had been inseparable since the day they were born. They told her Rita's heart stopped beating. They told her to keep dancing for her sister's sake. Rachael did. She really did. But when Rachael was making her triple pirouette at the annual performance this year, she froze and collapsed.
"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes."
"Good afternoon, Dr. Yang." Rachel's father stood up. "Rachael, the doctor has come to see you." Mr. Reyes was a sad man. He lost one daughter the year before, and now his other daughter was giving up.
"Rachael, why don't you tell Dr. Yang how you're feeling?" Mrs. Reyes' sounded hopeful. She was the one who actually wanted to know how her daughter was doing, but the girl was reluctant to open up.
Noting the silence, Mr. Reyes spoke up. "We'll go and get a quick bite. Is that Ok, sweetie?" While he did not expect a response, it still made him sigh when his eyes met with the hollowness in his daughter's.
"I'll take care of her." Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Cristina ushered the parents away.
"Hi, Rachael."
The girl turned away to face the window.
"How are you feeling today?"
The girl did not move.
"So, we know your legs are fine." Cristina flipped through the chart and pretended to be taking notes.
"In fact, your whole body is fine."
Rachael remained silent.
"You know, I don't like to be stuck with a mute person." Cristina could not contain her sarcasm.
"I'm not mute."
"Thank god you're talking." Cristina exclaimed with genuine relief. "Now if only you could walk."
"I can't."
"If you can't walk, how can you dance again?"
"I don't dance anymore."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to. Rita loved dancing. I practiced with her. Now she's dead."
"So you never liked ballet?" Cristina probed.
"I liked ballet."
"See, I knew it." Cristina snapped. "So don't make it sound like someone was forcing you to dance. I'm sure there's something about dancing that appeals to you."
"Maybe." The girl closed her eyes, as if she did not care.
"Well, when you hurl yourself up in the air, when you float across the room, when you extend your finger tips to touch the sky, don't you feel special?" Cristina asked.
"What do you know about dancing? You're only a doctor."
"Your doctor happens to be a ballet dancer in the past." Cristina spoke with some pride.
"You?
"Yea." Cristina did not expect Rachael's skepticism.
"You aren't poised enough to be a ballerina. You're roaming like an angry buffalo in my room."
"Excuse me? Did you just call me a buffalo?"
"You don't have the serenity in a ballerina. My teacher said we've to be composed at all times. Smile even when you're sad, smile even when your legs hurt; smile even when your heart is beating so fast that you can't breathe. Even when you're jumping up and down in full force, you gotta land like a feather, and not shatter the beauty of it." The girl stopped looking like a 15-year-old when she began her mini-lecture on dancing.
"Right." The words startled Cristina. All those years of classical ballet training, all those ridiculous habits of wearing a mask to preserve the beauty. Who would have known that behind that elegant shell stood a creature as fragile as anyone else? Who were they trying to fool? "That's why I stopped doing ballet." Cristina mustered.
Knocking at the door, Mr. Reyes came back and was surprised that his little girl was talking to the doctor. "Rachael, what've you two been talking about?"
The girl looked away again. The father felt dejected.
"Your mother is in the cafeteria. We'll go back to the hotel now. Would you like us to bring you anything?"
Again, Rachael did not answer.
"Well, honey, we'll see you tomorrow." Mr. Reyes walked out of the room feeling sad.
Cristina was stupefied by the way how her patient interacted with her parents. "Why didn't you talk to your dad, Rachael?"
"I don't know."
"You can't avoid people forever."
"I'm not avoiding you."
Cristina nodded to acknowledge the irony. "I'm only your doctor. They are your parents, people who care about you, people who mean something in your life."
"Maybe that's why I don't want to talk to them." Rachael glanced over Cristina's puzzled face.
Cristina pushed a strand of curly hair behind her ear as she pondered on it. It was something she never thought about.
"Why did you stop doing ballet, Doctor?"
"I found something more exciting."
"Like what?"
"Horse-riding."
The girl's eyes glittered. "Really? Do you still ride?"
"No."
"Do you always give up so easily?"
"How nice of you to accuse your doctor of giving up!" Cristina was convinced that she hated teenagers. This one in particular.
"It sounds like you are. Ballet, horse-riding…who knows what else?"
Cristina tried to remember the last time she was on a horse. "I was a good rider. I won a lot of awards. Then I had a bad fall."
"And you just gave up?"
"That's none of your business."
"You're scared."
"Yea, whatever." Admitting her fear to her young patient was surprisingly consoling.
"Well, I am." Rachael looked squarely at Cristina for the first time. "I am scared. What if I end up like Rita?"
"You're perfectly healthy. You can dance for a hundred years before you drop dead."
"I miss her. At first I danced in order to remember her, but that made me realize I've lost her." The girl paused. "Have you ever lost someone?"
"I guess." Cristina shut her eyes briefly, thinking whether her experience would qualify. "People come and go in our lives, Rachael. You lost your sister, but she'll forever be on your mind. As long as your memories stay fresh, you're keeping a part of her alive."
"Even if she's dead?"
"Even if she's dead." Cristina repeated it to herself. "Actually, sometimes it might be harder to lose someone who's still alive."
"How's that possible?"
"It could be sickness. My friend's mother has Alzheimer's. Doesn't recognize my friend anymore."
"Sounds pretty bad." Rachael nodded understandingly.
"It could be stubbornness. You parents are losing you if you keep shutting them out."
Rachael looked down at her mattress with some guilt.
"Or perhaps, two people simply don't connect anymore."
"Uh-huh."
Stifled by the gloomy atmosphere in the room, Cristina's eyes blinked as an idea came to mind. "Want me to show you something?"
"S—sure." Rachael cast a doubtful stare at her doctor.
Cristina steered Rachael down to the basement where she now lived. "Let me show you what real dancing is."
Rachael watched in amazement and chuckled. Although she could not hear the music on her doctor's iPod, Rachael could feel it in Cristina's steps. There was something liberating, almost primitive, about the doctor's movement. She was throwing all her energy into it, and suddenly Rachael saw tears on her doctor's cheek, glistening in the dark. Of course, Rachael did not know that Cristina's body was remembering every intimate movement she had had with Burke. Neither did Cristina.
Slowly, Rachael rose from her wheelchair. She did not need any music; she did not need Rita. For the first time, the girl was dancing for herself, feeling the rhythm of life.