Previously on Dance Academy: Last Chapter: He has found her a place to stay, he has moved the furniture, done the cleaning, the shopping, now all Christian wants is to have Tara here with him.

Chapter 21: Pain and Relief

Excruciating

I wait by the front door, pacing this way and that, searching the distance for the yellow of Neil's car. Everything is ready, her bed, her clothes, I've put snacks and drinks by her bed, a book I read last year that she might like, tissues, chewing gums. The grabber thingy is hooked at the side, the extension lead perched within easy reach, my bedside light right in the corner, the switch wound up around the base. As I trudge, I go again through the list. Bedroom? Check. Living room, complete with left over roast? Check. Shower room? Check. Toilet? Check. Access route? Check.

Then, the engine thunders up the hill.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do but as I step forward to get to the passenger door, Neil and Jan are already out and crowding the way. Neil swings the door open and slowly slides his arms under Tara. Her face is ashen, as if every colour, every freckle, every flush, has been drained out of her. Her teeth are clenched, her jaw so tight, her brow so burrowed, the only colours left are ghostly white and shadowy grey, and it only gets worse as he pulls her out of the car into his arms. I rush back into the house, holding every door wide for him to get through.

When Neil lays Tara on the bed, it's like he is trying to rearrange each of her vertebrae, as if simply by doing this he can make it all better. But Tara scrunches her beautiful face into an even darker mask of pain. The tears rolling freely on every bumps of her cheeks do all the shouting she won't let out.

As Neil and I stand beside her, stunned into helpless frozen shapes, it's Jan's turn to get into a rush of activity. She straightens Tara's legs, replaces the covers over her. She caresses the side of her face and soothes her with kisses. She gets bottles of pills out of her bag, makes Tara take two with some of the water I'd got ready, then she places Sir Joshua against her cheek. The tears still roll, fast and thick.

And I get out. I grab my helmet, I rush out of the house, and I ride.

I'm in front of the Company without knowing how I got there. But I rush in. I'm glad I'm in my running pants. Rebecca and Mr Xavier will not approve, but I need to dance. I need to feel the pain. Bring it on, Company principals, bring on your fancy moves, your impressive muscles, your distended tendons, today, I'm going to push as hard as I can till I collapse.

Dull

I bury myself under excruciating training. Mr Xavier seems to approve of my dedication and even the existing dancers look at me with a little more acceptance.

Then I anaesthetise myself with the dulling white noise of the waves, the screams, the splashes.

Another day's work.

Torment

When I get home, the lounge is blissfully deserted. I tiptoe down the corridor to peek through the internal window. The blinds are open. Tara is in bed, reading. That puts a smile on my face. I knock.

The way her face lights up when she sees me makes it all the toiling worthwhile.

With all the big furniture out of the way, Tara's purple duvet cover, the pink one on the other bed, the toiletries by the sink, the girly stuff on the side board, the room suddenly has that feminine touch that gives it warmth and homeliness. A bit cluttered for my liking, but hey.

I grab the desk chair and pull it beside her.

'That's a good one,' she says, indicating the novel in her hands. 'Is it yours?'

'Yeah.'

'Hmmm.'

'How are you, Tara?'

'Ok, although I hope I don't look as tired as you do.'

'Ah ah.'

Tara reaches out to me. I slide my hand in hers. 'Christian, thank you so much. I'm so happy to be here, you can't even begin to imagine. That car ride, oh my goodness, no way I would have coped with going home.'

I sigh in relief. Yes, all worthwhile.

She looks around herself. 'This was Sammy's side.'

I nod. And we say nothing for a long while. I just concentrate on swallowing and breathing, hoping it will stop the nauseating pain throbbing in my chest.

'Do you still miss him?'

I nod again. I'm a useless wordless idiot.

'So do I. But he was a fighter, so much of a fighter. And I'm going to be a fighter too.'

'Ding ding.'

Tara laughs, then cringes as she rearranges her spine. 'Will you still be fighting my corner?'

'Let me warn you now, if you stop fighting, I'll be the one fighting against you.'

Tara gave my hand a strong squeeze. 'In that case, the folder is on top of the desk there.'

I go to fetch the binder. Inside is the schedule for her rehabilitation.

'My physio will try to come every day this week to check on me, but then it will be up to me, us I guess.' She gives a shy glance that warms my insides.

'Yep, definitely, I've got no idea what to do, but if Ethan could help you back then, I can help you too, surely.'

A blush grows on her cheeks, bringing back some much needed colouring to her face. But why she is embarrassed is beyond me. I want to ask her why, but maybe I don't really want to know the answer. If it's embarrassing her, it probably isn't be something I want to hear. But I made a promise, to her and to myself, to be open. I might as well keep it going.

'Why are you blushing?'

'Am I?' she asks, raising her hands to her cheeks, her face turning even redder in the process.

'It looks like it. I don't want to put you on the spot or anything, but I promised to be open, and I gather that includes asking the questions running in my head.'

'I- I see.'

'You don't have to answer, though, I mean, it's up to you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.'

'No, no, I want to tell you.' She laughs. 'This open thing is going to be challenging. Interesting for sure but challenging.' She takes a deep breath. 'A thought just crossed my mind, that was all.'

'About Ethan?'

'About how I told him that no matter how much time he spent helping me, I would still not go back with him.'

KAPOW. There it is, the kind of blunt answer I so didn't want t to hear. And my chest is all tight again.

'I see.'

'Christian, it's-'

'It's okay Tara, completely so. I will help you, no strings attached. If I'm gonna go into teaching, I've got to start somewhere. Rehab work will be as good a place as any.' I grab my bag and get up. 'I'm hungry, shall I bring you something?'

Tara looks at me with worry in her eyes. 'Christian, I-'

'Cheese sandwich, does that sound good?'

Tara nods. 'Yes, please.'

I close the door behind me.

She's right, openness is going to be a challenge, one I'm not sure I'm up to facing.

Remission

I read the folder as I wait for the cheese to melt. Cheddar, good old soothing cheddar.

I bring back the two plates with the folder under my arm and open it back up on the side of the bed.

'Leg stretches and movement, at least three times a day. Up and walking as much as possible. Not staying in the same position for too long. You're going to have cabin fever in here.' Look at me being all chirpy and fun about it, a real actor. Maybe that's why Rebecca wants me, I can pretend to be something I'm not. Two faced? Absolutely.

'I can go outside, if it's flat and even.' Tara puts her hand up at me, just like Rebecca did to shut me up. 'But not today. Today, I've gone through enough. Today I am allowed as much bed rest as I please.'

'Granted. But tomorrow-'

'Tomorrow we're on.'

Relief

The blinds are drawn. I knock softly at the door.

'Who is it?'

'Me.'

'Oh, just a minute.' A lot of shuffling cloth noise later, the door opens.

'Good morning, Christian,' Jan says as she leaves the room.

It still catches me to see Tara in yet another old jogger, all flat on top of her bed. I try to force a motivational smile on my face. 'I thought you might want to do some of your exercises now.'

'What? Before breakfast?'

I check my watch. 'You haven't had your breakfast and it's ten am ?'

'I'm on holiday, can't you see?'

'Holidays is when you get up super early!'

Tara sighs. 'Well, things have changed.'

'Well, let's gets things back in line.' I select a smooth track on my phone and set it on the desk for background music.

'Christian, please turn this off.'

'My music offends you or something?' I joke.

'I just don't want music at all.' And she is not joking at all, her tone is far too stern.

I stare at her for a second, wanting to challenge her, but there is so much wistfulness in her eyes that I just can't bring myself to bring her more pain. I switch it off. 'Okay, up first or legs first?'

'Legs.'

'Rightee-o.' I take her foot in my hand and gently follow the curves as she flexes and straightens it, gently pushing at both ends of the movement. I check her face for pain. Her eyebrows are all scrunched up, but her lips are pursed into a disgruntled pout. I only then realise I am whistling. 'Toe taps now, right?' I sing with the tune.

Tara rolls her eyes but a small smile is sneaking at the corner of her lips, so I carry on with the song as it evolves and merges into a funky mash up. My heart flutters into a weird pattern when her leg gets a lot higher for the stretch than it did two days ago, or maybe it's just because I am supporting her knee up for her. Which is ridiculous. There are not many body parts of Tara's that I haven't supported during our pas-de-deux routines, and yet those knees have suddenly become engrossing.

I rattle my throat. 'Okay, and up.'

I don't know what I should have expected, but I am still not ready for how slow she is. Once she is in her brace and behind her walker, she is back to snail pace, so slow that I hover behind her growing in impatience to just get on. When we finally make it to the lounge, Tara wordlessly take in the changes to the room and my tummy rumbles at the cooked breakfast Jan in rustling up in the kitchen.

Tara inches towards the table and gingerly perches on the edge of the tall stools. 'I always thought these were so weird, you can't sit right in them, but boy am I glad now.'

The little giggle she lets out dislodges the bubble of embarrassment that had lodged itself between my lungs at the thought of her knees and makes it burst throughout my chest.

'Christian, where are you going, dressed like this? This is your dance gear! Are you going to dance?'

That snaps me out of my daze. I glance down at my clothes. Of course, my tights come out from under my shorts. 'Yes, I am.'

'Where? At the memorial, already?'

Jan turns from her cooking to look at me, which is fine, but Tara is scrutinizing my every more. How is she going to take it? Surely she's going to be happy, right? But what I'm fearing most is not her reaction per se, it's the pain she's going to be into if she goes all crazy and tries to jump about, like she normally would. So I step forward to steady her, just in case. I have got to word this just right.

'I am not dancing at the memorial, nor at the Academy. I haven't joined The Company.' Tara's face scrunches right up at that. 'But I will be working with them on projects here and there, freelance type of thing.' Tara's eyebrows shoot up, her mouth gapes a bit. 'So I am training with them to stay in shape.'

'You- You- Oh, Christian!' And yes, she over reacts. And I am not sorry, not a single bit. She has flung herself at me, her arms wrapped around my neck, and for the first time in a very long while, I finally get to hold her.