Memory Documentation

chapter seventeen | documenting the way they are by my side

After a couple sessions with Marissa and some added nights of Chris and I practicing the moves in my room when Papa fell asleep, I was starting to get a hang of things. And not only were the different movements starting to feel more natural, but crazy enough, so was being in Chris's arms.

Learning how to dance together felt like solving a puzzle. Every lesson, we were given a new piece. But now? Now we're starting to know how we fit. It may just be the basics right now, but every practice helps Chris and I become more and more attuned to one another. We knew where our arms went and where our feet stepped. We recognize the signs that the other is feeling exhausted, frustrated, or pleased. We've learned when to stop for the day or when to encourage the other to try and practice a little longer.

It's the most exercise I've ever willingly put myself through in years, so I'd be a liar if I said I didn't feel a little sore in some places. But now dance practice was on halt, and I'll be getting in some rest days whether I liked it or not because, in a few hours, I'll be miles away from my dance instructor and my dance partner.

When my alarm went off at two in the morning, it was more of a reminder to get ready than a wakeup call. No matter how long I laid in my bed with my eyes closed, I couldn't get a wink of sleep. My eyes felt tired and heavy, but despite three hours of trying, I was never able to drift off completely. Thinking maybe I'd have better luck on the plane, I put on my comfiest leggings and sweatshirt for the journey. This combined with the lack of sleep ought to do it.

Two text messages came through as I was in the bathroom tying my hair into a lazy, loose braid.

Jessica: On our way! <3

Reece: comin kiddo. need a neck pillow? we got extra.

I just finished replying to both of them when my phone buzzed with another text message, this one from...

Chris: Safe flight, Darce. Text me when you land.

Me: what are you doing still up?

I watched the chat bubble appear and disappear about three times before he replied.

Chris: Just thinking about you and Jessica. It'll be a tough weekend but know I'll be there for you. Always.

Me: I'll have to carry my beyblade with me. Then you'll really be there in spirit ;)

There was a knock at my door. Papa came in, looking half dazed from sleep. I stood and went to him. "Oh, Papa, you didn't have to wake up. I told you I'd let myself out when Jessica and Reece got here."

Instead of a response, I was pulled into a tight, long hug. I closed my eyes and tried to commit this feeling to memory. Here in his arms, surrounded by his familiar scent, was home and comfort. It was safety – a safety I've never experienced until I met him. And to be walking out of here and into a weekend of sadness and mourning was a terrible and miserable feeling.

"Say you want me to come and I'll come right now," he said, his voice slow and thick from sleep.

"No, Papa, it's okay. I was the one who told you not to come anyway." Awful plane anxiety, paired with extreme motion sickness and expressed discomfort of traveling at his age, led to me urging he stay home. I'd have Jessica and Reece with me the entire time, and he was only a phone call away if I needed him. Plus, with a doctor's appointment and a scheduled consultation with someone over fixing the air conditioning at the café, I thought it'd be best if he stayed here.

We were able to get through one episode of our house renovating TV show (though, with Papa nodding off during the half of it) before Jessica and Reece arrived. I was pulled into an immediate hug by Jessica when I opened the door. I remembered, then, that I have known safety and comfort before – with her and Reece.