CHAPTER 11

The Big Day, Take One

Instead of spending June getting ready to marry Chris, I’d spent it trying to survive and then learning about how life would be at rehab. I had sat in a wheelchair for the first time on June 5 instead of organizing who was sitting where at the wedding. I was learning how to feed myself and how to use the remaining strength in my arms to push my wheelchair instead of making last-minute floral arrangements or talking to the DJ about the music.

Since the accident Chris and my mom had gotten into a pattern of switching off, making sure each night one person stayed with me. There was a tiny chair that pulled out into a poor excuse for a bed. One night Chris and I were lying there in the dark, and we were talking. We both were aware our wedding date was approaching, just days away.

We should have been sleeping or trying to fall asleep, but Chris was talking through some feelings of guilt I hadn’t realized he had.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said. “I was supposed to protect you, and I wasn’t there to do it.”

I didn’t say anything. My heart broke for him. I knew he was suffering badly and it was bubbling up to the surface at that moment.

Then he broke down and said, “I just wish I had danced with you more. I’m really sorry, because now we can’t.”

All I could say was, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

He doesn’t cry often. We just cried together and hugged that night. There was nothing that could be said. I could see the sadness in him that night, and I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want him to feel regret or any kind of guilt at all. But it was the saddest moment of my stay. At that moment I wanted out. I didn’t want to be in rehab anymore. I didn’t want to be in this situation. I wanted to be dancing at my wedding. His tears were too much for me to hold it together.

June 27, 2010, arrived, the day that would have been my wedding. I didn’t wake up with butterflies in my stomach and anticipation like I should have, and while I was disappointed, I wasn’t sad. I knew we’d get there, but I had to get well first. It was hard to imagine during those days how different my June had become.

Still, we had a huge party at the rehab facility to mark the day. We’d briefly discussed getting married right then and there in the garden at the facility, but I was concerned that would mean the accident would have taken the dream wedding idea away from me. I wanted the real deal regardless, so ultimately we decided to wait.

I obviously couldn’t get dolled up clothing-wise that day, but everyone was casual for our little celebration. It was a jeans and T-shirt party for sure. Samantha was excellent at hair and makeup; on most visits she’d fix me up. So on this day, my would-be wedding, she styled my hair and applied my makeup in my room before everyone arrived.

As we got ready that day, she said, “You look so pretty.”

“Thanks,” I said, “even in my bum clothes!”

“Yes. And you’ll look even prettier on your actual wedding day. We’re all holding on for that and can’t wait.”

“I’m excited about that day happening,” I said.

“We all are, too,” Samantha said.

My aunt and uncle, my parents, Chris, all the rest of the girls, and Chris’s family were there—everyone brought great food, and we took over the multipurpose room to celebrate. My mom brought Funfetti cupcakes, which are my absolute favorite. There was watermelon, too. There’s a really great place in Greenville called Parker’s BBQ and someone brought food from there, which was a nice break from the food I’d been eating for the past four weeks. It was like we had a big backyard BBQ celebration, but in this little rehab room with Wi-Fi and a big-screen TV instead of at someone’s house. It was just as fun.

At some point while we were eating, we heard some commotion coming from the hallway. We all quieted our chatting to have a listen, and all of a sudden some senior citizens that I had taught cheerleading to came busting into the room. I had taken them on when I was the activities coordinator at their center. They represented our town at the Senior Games. They were in uniform and everything, cheering “L-E-T-S G-O, let’s go, let’s go, L-E-T-S G-O! Gooooo RACHELLE!” As I sat there watching, I realized that these women, even though they were forty years older than me, were my friends. My heart warmed at the thought.

Everyone clapped, and I was completely moved. It was so nice of them to do this. The entire thing was a true celebration with lots of laughs, and not a tear was shed. We were all happy to be together, all my closest family and friends. Chris and I stayed together that night. We spent the night holding each other and talking about our future plans and how much we loved each other. I will say, in the morning when I woke up, I felt a little sad. I should have been on my honeymoon trip to the Bahamas. I should have been running up and down on the beach in a bikini with my new husband. I should have been married. That was when reality hit me.