something in the way he moves

There was always something in the way he moved. On stage or at a club attention was solely focused on him as his hips swayed to the rhythm of the music. His legs moved on their own transfixed by the beats booming through the speakers. As he walked people would stare. The aura of confidence radiated off as he strolled down the street, down the aisle of a grocery store, or down the red carpet at a publicized event. When he sang emotions ran high. Falling to his knees he would belt out the tune as it came from his heart and soul. There was just something in the way he moved.

I would do anything within my power to erase the actions of that day. To take it all back would be something I was willing to die for. He was my lover and best friend. Trying to save me he coaxed me to slow down the speeding car. I couldn’t. My foot pressed the gas harder and harder until the world outside became a blur.

“Josh don’t do this! I beg you! I love you, your family loves you, the guys love you! Please slow down!”

I drowned out his words. Maybe I should have slowed down and let him out of the car. No one else should have gotten involved besides me. This was my problem.

“I can’t do it,” I said softly. With my tear filled eyes I looked at him and said, “I’m sorry.”

In the headlights the trunk of an enormous tree show. Swerving the car I met the tree head on. The sound of crushing metal was all I can remember.

I woke up in a hospital room, two days after the accident. Family members, flowers, cards, and balloons surrounded me. I lived, I fucking lived. As my mother hugged me I broke down realizing I am alive…this was not what I had planned.

Justin was in ICU in a coma. The accident broke his collarbone, severed a rib, and caused minor head injuries. The worst injury of them all was he lost the use of his legs. After two weeks he finally woke up to learn he was paralyzed from the waist down. An emotionless face looked back at the doctors as they told him of his fate. No tears were shed, no outburst of anger directed towards me. He accepted his fate as if he knew this was what was going to happen.

Both of us were sent home. Our home once a place of solitude and love was now empty and unwelcome. Getting our lives back to normal wasn’t possible. Justin remained quiet most of the time. In his chair he would stare out the window, that was if he even felt like getting out of bed. I got help in dealing with my problems. It still wasn’t enough to dull the overwhelming amount of guilt and shame I suffered everyday.

Now I am Justin’s caretaker. Lovers were once were but that has changed. Justin doesn’t show or give love anymore. I can’t blame him. How can someone still love the person who changes his or her life in such a defeating way?

Dancing and walking is something he will never do anymore. Confined to a wheelchair is the story he must follow the rest of his days. I took all of that away from him and it will never be given back.

There was something in the way he moved but now that something will never be witnessed again.