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response from me, but I don't offer one.
    "Because I rock," Kimberlee responds for me.
    "That's right," Lou agrees, "she rocks. She knew right from the beginning that her attitude was key in recovering." Lou sighs. "I know not everyone who keeps their head up gets the results they want, but I do know that if you don't even try, there is no possible way to recover. The physical wound may heal, but your heart and mind won't, and then where will you be?" She raises her eyebrows at me in question.
    I answer her with the slip of a tear that I did not want to let out. She uses her thumb to wipe it away, but more follow, and now I'm afraid that they won't stop again.
    "Use those tears for good, Rosie. They mean you care. They mean you want to move forward."
    Kimberlee's bed squeaks, and next thing I know, she's standing in front of me. "I know you don't like to talk," she says to me, "but talking about it, getting it out, it helps. Shit, I couldn't talk in the beginning, and that was rough. My brain was screaming. But once I figured it out...you couldn't shut me up." Kimberlee sways her head from side to side. "Well, you shut me up," she says of my refusal to respond to anything she'd said to me. "But seriously, Rose. You're only hurting yourself. I'll shut up now." Kimberlee winks and walks back behind her curtain.
    "Come on," Lou says, getting up and pushing the walker back in front of me. "Let's get you cleaned up."
    I use the sleeve of my robe to wipe the rest of my tears, but no more are shed. My tears don’t continue, so maybe I'm breaking through after all.
     
    ***
     
    During physical therapy, Nina can't believe her eyes. "Girl, look at you," she exclaims, singing my praise, because I'm finally walking along the parallel bars on my own. "Look at those guns. So, you do have muscle in those skinny arms of yours."
    If I were talking, I'd say, "My arms ain't skinny, they're strong." Because they are strong. I've always been strong. It's one of the reasons I'm a good dancer.
    Was a good dancer.
    As hard as it is, I try to shake it off.
    I'll never be a dancer again.
    But I'm not dead, and so I guess I need to at least learn to walk.
    I take a deep breath and push myself forward. After about ten minutes of "running relays" through the parallel bars, I joke to myself, my arms hurt. As strong as they used to be, I guess not using them weakened them.
    "Good job, Rose." Nina literally pats me on the back. "I'm proud of you. I know today was rough, but you made a huge stride. Please keep that in mind...please," she almost begs.
    I blink my eyes, knowing that isn't the best of responses, but it's the best I can give at the moment.
    "Do you think you can manage on your own in your chair?" She looks me in the eyes.
    Do I want to keep depending on someone else to push me everywhere I need to go? I certainly know how to use this power wheelchair, so do I continue being an obnoxious ass and have someone push me around, or can I continue with my efforts and direct the chair myself?
    I respond by pushing on the chair's joystick and rolling forward a foot.
    Her grin widens as she nods. "Atta girl. C'mon, I'll walk with you to get some lunch." Which is a good idea, because I don't trust myself to move on my own once I'm by myself. "I'll get you to the rec and then I'll have someone bring in your lunch. Good?"
    She looks at me for a response, but all I can manage is a blink.
    "I'll take that as a yes," she says and keeps one hand on the back of my chair while I wheel myself to the rec room. It's only been three days since I sat in here, but it feels longer. And it may be egotistical of me, but I'm afraid everyone is staring at me, so I keep my eyes on the floor in front of me. "Girl, look where you're going," Nina reminds me. "You gotta look at the road ahead of you, Rose."
    I look up, and the first person I see is Ben. Looking right at me. Quickly, I drop my head down again and stop wheeling myself.
    "Rosie, what's going on?" Nina asks,