Off Balance

Only when she woke up one morning to find she could no longer move her left leg it dawned on Rose she had a problem.

A rather big problem.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep.

No use. The hotel was coming alive, and somebody, supposedly Miss Richards, was banging on the doors telling them they were leaving for the Vatican Museums in half an hour.

Reluctantly, Rose propped herself up on her elbows and pulled away her sheets to look at her offending limb.

There was nothing much to see. Reassured, she tried to bend it – and felt a lightening bolt surge through her muscles.

Right. No bending then. Bracing herself, she tested her right leg, but thankfully that seemed quite compliant.

"If you hope to get any breakfast, you'd better get out of bed right now, ladies and gentlemen!"

What if she just put her right leg on the floor anyway? Left might follow out of habit. Slightly more cheerful, she put it to the test.

Left wasn't keen, though. Whenever she tried to move it more than an inch, she'd get electrocuted again.

"Oh, come on, work with me," she hissed under her breath. "It's not that hard, you've done it before."

Finally, after another two minutes of massaging, prodding and encouraging remarks, her left leg found herself next to her right.

So far so good. She might even manage to stand up now. Question of grabbing the bedpost, putting weight on one leg and then pushing up…

No, not left, right! Swearing more loudly now, she fell back on the bed. Why did she always rely on her left leg to carry all her weight? No wonder right had become a lazy sod unable to support her!

She tried again, this time focussing with all her might on her right leg. Still, it took her three more tries: if she hadn't been grabbing the bedpost, she couldn't have done it. Finally standing, she steadied herself and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and her roommate Sandra appeared – all groomed and ready to go, Rose noticed with a pang of annoyance. She must have been up for an hour, at least. Little Miss Perfect…

"What's with you?" Sandra asked.

"I can't walk," Rose said curtly.

"Really," Sandra said, matter-of-factly, "I'm not surprised."

Rose was dying to spit something at her, but resisted the urge at last moment. Things she said to Sandra never came out right. They never had. Even that first conversation at the beginning of the school year had been disastrous.

It was her limp Rose had noticed first. Never, not even in the hospital, had she met anyone with a limp that so much resembled hers. Sandra seemed to have noticed the same thing, because she immediately strode over to her.

"Are you Rosalind?"

"Yes… How do you know?"

"The principal told me we'd share classes," she said, "and… well…" she pointed vaguely at Rose's legs, "I know what to look out for. I'm Sandra, by the way."

To make her bafflement complete, Miss Richards suddenly joined them. "Ah, you've met already. Rosalind, it's Sandra's first day here. Would you care to show her around during the first break?" And without giving her any time to protest, she said: "Excellent."

During the following two classes, Rose felt herself getting angrier and angrier. What was the principal thinking, telling her story to complete strangers? And why did everybody just assume they'd want to be the best of friends?

At the beginning of the first break she stalked out of the classroom without looking at Sandra, only speaking to her when they'd reached the stairs.

"This is the first floor, with the library and the canteen," she said, starting to climb up.

Sandra stopped her. "We could take the lift. It's easier."

"I don't need the lift," Rose snapped. "And neither do you. Now, the computer room–"

"I don't know about you, but if I have to spend the whole day climbing stairs, I'm a wreck afterwards."

Rose turned around with a sigh. "You misunderstand me. To be allowed to use the lift, you need a permit. And since they don't grant those until you've at least broken two legs, I –"

"Do you mean this?"

Rose stared at the little yellow paper. "How did you get that?"

"I asked for it," Sandra said. "Most people don't know stair climbing is difficult for us. You have to explain that, you know."

What the -? They'd only known each other two minutes, and already that girl was lecturing her! On the other hand, she had a point… Asking for a permit was obvious.

"I can give you a few tips, if you want them," said Sandra. "After all, I've got a few years more experience."

God, who did she think she was - a disability expert?Rose straitened her back.

"Do you, now? When was your accident, then?"

An insecure smile drifted over Sandra's face. "No, I've had this since birth..."

"Sorry, but I don't have a birth defect."

She'd blurted that out before she realised it. Sandra's gaze turned to stone. "It isn't a birth defect!"

"Yeah, well, thanks very much, but I'll manage on my own," Rose said hastily. "About the building – it is self explanatory, really. You'll find your way around in no time."

That would have been a great moment to disappear from each other's lives. And they would have, too – if the rest of their year hadn't decided they were a match made in heaven. After all, both new, both cripples – what's not to love? There was hardly a homework assignment where they didn't end up together.

After a few weeks Sandra had really begun to irritate her. Her sensible shoes. Her sturdy-yet-so-uncool-rucksack. Her pencils-with-a-special-grip-because-of-her-'fine-motorial-problems'... Why couldn't the girl just admit she couldn't draw because she didn't have a scrap of talent, instead of blaming it on her cerebral palsy?

But she wouldn't have said anything – honestly! – if they hadn't been forced to spend this trip to Rome together as well.

When she'd finally managed to drag her suitcase up the stairs that first morning all the rooms had already been full with different cliques of girls. There was only the room at the end of the hall left. When she opened the door she was greeted with:

"Ah, if it isn't the other outcast!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "There just weren't any beds left."

"That's what I said."

Breathe, Rose, breathe. She ignored Sandra and dragged her suitcase to the bed nearest the door. As she pushed her suitcase under it, suddenly an all too familiar metal construction caught her eye. She stared at her roommate.

"Sandra, your not telling me you brought a wheelchair to Rome?"

"It seems so, doesn't it?"

"Oh, for God's sake," she said. "Isn't it enough that everybody already treats us like freaks because of our CP? How do you think they'll react if you'll let yourself be chauffeured around Rome in that?"

"I don't mind what others think."

"Don't you, now, little miss outcast? Anyway what's the point? You can walk perfectly well."

"I'm only trying to take the necessary precautions."

"Precautions!" she sneered. Sandra only watched her with an incredulous look on her face, so she went on: "Once you sit down in that chair, people will think you're pathetic. They won't want to meet your eye. Worse still, they'll immediately assume you have the IQ of a Teletubbie."

"I know."

"You know?" It took her a second to close her mouth again. "And you choose to reduce yourself to that? No wonder you haven't made any frie-"

"Don't you dare!" Sandra had stood up. For a moment silence hung between them. Then Sandra hissed: "Get out."

"Where do you suppose I'd…"

"Then shut up. I don't want to talk to you. At all." With that, she'd disappeared into the bathroom.

She hadn't come out for half an hour.

Two steps – steady, now – one…Rose stifled a moan while she fell back on her bed.

It took exactly thirtyfive-and-a-half steps to get from the dining hall to her bed. After ten or fifteen steps, depending on the direction you came from, there was a sofa to have a pit stop on.

How quiet it was, suddenly. They had all gone and left her here, 'to have a good rest', as Miss Richards put it. Yeah, right. Find out how to admit defeat, more like. This was the last and the best day of the whole trip. They weren't only going to the museums, but also the Colosseum and the forum. And tonight, everybody was getting spectacularly drunk on the Spanish Steps, of course. Yet she was stuck here!

The feeling was so maddeningly familiar. That quiet bustle in the background, made by life indifferently passing her by. Life she couldn't be a part of, imprisoned as she was, once again, by her own body.

And the fucking irony of it was still smirking in her face. After all, the thought of this trip had kept her going during all those gruelling therapy sessions. When climbing endless staircases, it was the thought of the Spanish Steps that had made her drag herself up. Nothing was stopping her from going to Rome next year!

And here she was alright, and back where she'd started. Fucking leg! Suddenly, Sandra's 'necessary precautions' didn't seem all that idiotic. Then again, did necessary precautions entail confining yourself to a cage on wheels? No! That was absurd, not to mention unfair. Everybody else's bodies worked alright, why shouldn't hers?! That it didn't was a grave injustice, and she wasn't going to surrender to it like Sandra had. She wasn't going to be ordered around by her own body! Tonight, she'd show it who was boss!

"Guys…? Can we stop here for a minute?"

The way they all looked at her! As if she wasn't aware of the fact that this was the second time she'd asked that in ten minutes.

"Rosalind," said Tessa. "We are not going too fast as it is. And we have to be back at the hotel at twelve."

"I know," she sighed miserably. "But I really have to go to the bathroom."

The lot of them frowned. Only Sandra had a sarcastic little smile on her face. Bitch.

Tessa shrugged. "We won't stop you."

She turned around and stumbled into the restaurant. Safely in the bathroom she leant her head to the cool tiles. Ah, to sit! She could hardly think for pain in her leg. And they weren't even halfway there yet. At the thought of even more cobblestone streets she felt a faint nausea rise. She closed her eyes for a moment.

A loud banging on the door jerked her out of her musings. Somebody was shouting in Italian. Irritated, she looked at her watch – and saw that more than fifteen minutes had passed since she'd come in. As fast as she could, she stood up, passed the woman who had woken her and stepped outside.

The street was completely empty.

"Hello?" she shouted, "Guys? Are you there?" When there was no answer she grabbed her phone and dialled Tessa's number. It was switched off.

They wouldn't just leave her! They were buying cigarettes or beer around a corner somewhere!

She limped to the nearest alley and peered in. At the end she could see a few neon signs and hear the faint rumbling of cars.

A square. With shops, no doubt. If she was quick she could still find them.

She took a few quick steps forward. Best be careful here:it was one of those nasty little alleys, narrow and unevenly paved. Ifyou didn't watch outyou would fall within seco-

Her scream echoed off the walls when she smacked against the stones. For a moment, she felt nothing. Then the smarting ache of her grazed hands and face seeped through, followed by a strained feeling.

Her legs… She craned her neck. They were sprawled out at an odd angle. She'd have to get them back to normal before she could get up. Right she could move. If only left would –

But the lightening bolt struck and clawed through tissue and toremuscle from bone…

This was impossible. She dropped her head back on her arm. God, if only she weren't this tired...

After a while she felt moisture seeping through her clothes. It was cold, but it numbed the pain in her muscles. Lying like this, she felt almost comfortable. Maybe it was best to sleep a little. She'd think of something after she'd slept…

She felt herself drifting off when suddenly a Dutch voice cut through her skull:

"Are you planning to get up anytime soon?"

Unwillingly, she turned her head. Slowly, Sandra came into focus. She was gazing down on her with a bored look on her face.

"Are you going to help me?"

"No."

"No?" Rose pushed herself up with one arm. "Do you think I enjoy lying here, or what?"

Sandra shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea. But considering the professional and systematic way you've been ruining your body this week, I rather think you do."

Rose suddenly felt wide awake. "Spare me your lectures! At least I wasn't too lazy to walk."

"And look where that got you."

They looked at each other for a moment. Sandra's face was completely impassive. Finally, Rose said:

"If you're not going to help me, what are you doing here?"

Sandra's lips curled up. "I'm watching. I think this is a rather pretty sight…"

"Jesus, you're even sicker than I thought."

Sandra furrowed her brow. "I wouldn't call it sick. Rather… somewhat sadistically inclined." Her smile broadened. "It was about time one of your kind got her comeuppance."

She came a few steps closer. Rose felt a strange urge to edge away. Trying to keep her voice as steady as possible, she said:

"Come on, Sandra. I know I made a few shitty remarks, but…"

"No, Rosalind!" Sandra spat. "Those weren't a few shitty remarks. They were a few shitty remarks too many." Momentarily, her face seemed to freeze. Then she whispered: "You weren't the first one who thought she was superior to me due to lack of a birth defect. But you are the first one from whom I won't take any more crap."

She really resembled Hannibal Lecter a bit too much for comfort now. Rose swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

"Do?" for a moment Sandra looked surprised. Then she smiled again. "But darling, that's the whole marvel of it. I don't have to do anything. I just wanted to point out to you that you are in a dark Roman alley, with no idea where you are or how you are going to get away, while any minute now, somebody with less than good intentions might pass." She turned around. "Just so you know. And now, I'm going to get a cab. Have a nice evening." She started to walk in the direction of the square.

"Sandra!" Rose eyes darted through the alley. "You've got to help me!"

Sandra made a half turn. "Why should I? It's not my fault you can't even lift your sorry arse off the floor."

For a moment Rose was lost for words. Then her blood started boiling. "How dare you!"

"Why don't you prove me wrong, then?"

Rose tried to get up half heartedly, but the pain in her stiff limbs made her sink back. Sandra smirked. "Pathetic."

"You try that with a half-lamed leg!"

"That's why I never let it get that far," said Sandra, walking back in her direction. When she'd reached Rose, she bent over her until their faces where almost at eye level. "Face it, girl," she whispered, "not only are you a cripple… you're not even good at it."

That was it! Now Rose felt nothing else but the desire to rip that arrogant grimace open. She lunged at it with a snarl-

But Sandra grabbed her wrist and her arm with both hands and pulled her up with all her might till she was hanging in some weird position between lying and sitting and her legs where on fire-

Sandra locked her eyes into Rose's. "When I say so," she said in an urgent whisper, "I want you to push as hard as you can with your left leg, ok? Right is not strong enough. Ready? Go!"

And by God, she tried, but when all her muscles were being ripped from her bone once more she panted: "I can't… it hurts…"

"Whoever promised you it wouldn't!" hissed Sandra. "I want you to stand! Now!"

How she did it, she'd never know, but in the next moment she was clinging to Sandra for balance yet standing on her own two feet. In a haze of pain and tears she let Sandra help her to the end of the alley, where she hailed the first cab they saw. She no longer cared about how stupid she looked as the driver carried her into the car and up the stairs of the hotel after they'd arrived there, and she let Sandra support her through the endless corridor that led to their room. There Sandra left her to talk to a frantic Miss Richards. Lying on her bed, a few moments before she gave in to her exhaustion, Rose could only think one thing:

She would never, ever understand this girl.