What A Lie Looks Like | ✓

2.08: sephine

I'm completely and utterly bored out of my mind. I've gone through and counted things out of boredom. This is the conclusion I've come to inside my eight hundred square foot apartment: I have nine pillows and four blankets scattered between the bed and the couch. I have three windows, eighty-seven books-half I've never even read- six plates and bowls, one television, one laptop, one phone, eighteen dresses, thirty-two shirts, and fourteen pairs of shoes excluding my staggering pile of ballet point shoes that have accumulated in the corner of my closet.

In all honesty, this sucks. I can't distract myself with dance because I can't dance, and even worse, I can't do much of anything with my arm stuck in this sling. However, it has become a handy phone pouch. The most frustrating thing of all might be not being able to put my hair into a ponytail.

Ollie tried to help me do it once, but he failed to wrap the band around my hair three times, so it fell the first time I moved my head. Ollie stayed the first week, but the tour was already set, and the backup dancer was taken through a quick crash course during the next week before they had to go back out on tour. So not only am I bored out of my mind and unable to be on electronics, dance, or do pretty much anything, on top of all of that, I also have no one to keep me company.

I've spoken to Cam and Liv a little bit since the accident, finally having time to catch up with them. I've missed them a lot, I realized.

My life has come to ordering my favorite Chinese every other day, and then I attempt to make a salad on the days I don't order. Still, I can't cut the tomatoes without them rolling onto the floor, so my salads consist of just lettuce, spinach, and very little dressing for some kind of flavor. Oh and naps; lots and lots of naps.

The sensitivity to light has gone away, but I still don't enjoy sitting in a completely lit room. I think the last time I was this bored was in rehab.

Thankfully, I've felt well enough to start attending my weekly meetings again. The temptations are stronger than usual due to my lack of purpose.

There's a knock on the door, and I jump up, jolting my shoulder and sending a dizziness to my head. I'm a little curious as to who would be knocking on the door considering Ryan has a key? All of my other friends are on tour with the company, live in different states, or at work?

I walk through the kitchen and grab the first thing that I see, which happens to be a soup ladle before opening the door hesitantly with the ladle in hand. "Hayes? What are you doing here?" I'm thoroughly stunned to see him standing there in a button-down and slacks. He clearly came over straight from work.

He chews his lip, looking me up and down, his eyes stopping on the sling. "Are you okay?"

I open the door wider to let him come in, "Uh yeah, I'm fine-ish?"

Hayes takes a step through the door, but his eyes never leave me, and I feel very self-aware of the fact that I haven't taken a shower in three days. It's been even longer since I've washed my hair. "What happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I try to brush it off, but Hayes doesn't buy it. I turn around and walk towards the kitchen, "Can I get you something to drink? All I really have is coffee and water, but we can go to the store that's down the street if you want something else-"

"I'm okay, but thanks. I want to know is what happened to your arm." Hayes is right behind me and rests his hand on my back.

I suck in a breath and tell him everything, "Ollie dropped me. It was during our Toronto festival routine that had the move I didn't want to do. He didn't mean to. I just fell, landed hard on my shoulder, dislocated it in the process, and hit my head pretty hard. I get to take the sling off any day now, and the concussion is practically gone, but I can't dance," my voice wavers but I ignore it, "I can't dance again for a while."