Sabina was confident and demanding but she was also really caring. She wanted me to have fun.
“You’re going to have the time of your life, I promise you,” she yelled back as we pushed our way forward. I followed as she moved quickly through the crowd and up a short stairwell to an exclusive VIP section. The booths were high-backed red velvet with gold inlaid swirls of fabric. She yelled to a waiter in Spanish to bring the best bottle of champagne. Soon people gathered around the booth, some of whom were Sabina’s friends. She insisted to everyone that her American friend needed to have the best time.
It wasn’t long before a handsome Spaniard pulled me onto the dance floor. I spent song after song dancing my heart out, but I still wasn’t able to get rid of my thoughts of Nate. Eventually the beats of the music started to run together, my muscles relaxed, and I was finally able to let go. Sabina and all of her friends danced around in a circle with each other. It seemed like all of the bodies were in fluid motion together, moving as one.
I got lost in the freedom I was feeling. It reminded me of racing with Dancer through the fields.
It seemed like there were really no answers to the questions I had about where my life was going. I just knew that my desire to live and transcend Jake’s tragedy had become strong. Regardless of what I had been told, I knew deep down in my heart that Jake would not be judged for the brevity of his life, or for the way he ended it. I believed that to be a truth, and my faith in that truth was enough for me to go on.
Sometimes love can be easier to find than purpose, but I don’t think it’s any less important. I had made Jake my purpose, which was a mistake. I was beginning to realize everyone needs a reason to go on apart from one another. Nate had his job and I knew that was his purpose, his lifeblood. I thought I had mine with the horses, but it wasn’t enough. As I bounced up and down on the dance floor, staring across the circle at Sabina, who seemed to do everything with reckless abandon, I wondered how people viewed me. Probably as a sulking, sad, grief-stricken, tortured soul, the way I remembered my mother after my father died. I wanted to change that, find my purpose, hold on to love, and truly live my life, but I needed the courage I had lost along the way.
I realized I had gone to Spain not because I didn’t think it would work with Nate or because I couldn’t get out from under the massive amount of grief I felt after Jake’s loss. I went to Spain to remember what my own voice sounded like before I got swept away listening to someone else’s. Determined to redefine my life with so much ahead of me, I didn’t want Jake’s life, Jake’s accident, Jake’s horrible, tragic, and pitiful death, to define me anymore. I went to Spain to find myself, and the first place I looked was the bumping dance floor of an after-hours club.
Less than twenty minutes later at least one of my questions was answered.
“I’m getting tired!” I yelled to Sabina.
“Okay, girlie. Let’s head home.” Sabina grabbed my hand and held it. Just before we reached the top of the stairs, she put her arm around me and pulled me close. She kissed me on the cheek. “I feel like we’re sisters separated at birth.”
I felt like Sabina was one of the most genuine girls I had ever met. Unable to form bonds with girls in school always made me feel like such an outsider, but Sabina had the kind of personality that just pulled you in and made you feel comfortable. Maybe that’s why my mom wanted us to spend time together.
Only one step down, Sabina’s giant stiletto got caught on the lip of the stair and she went tumbling down. I tried to grab her at the last second but she was out of my reach. The stairs were steep and metal, and as I watched her fall I hoped she would avoid hitting her head. She grabbed the railing and righted herself about halfway down but I could see a huge gash on her leg. I rushed down to her.
“Oh my god, are you okay?!”
Her eyes squeezed shut very tight but tears still broke from the corners. She cursed quietly under her breath in Spanish. If I didn’t have my ear so close to her face I never would have heard it. It was too dark in the club to actually see how badly she was injured.
“Are you okay?”
“No, my ankle. I think it’s broken.” There was also a fair amount of blood streaming down her calf.
“Here, let’s get you down the stairs.”
“Where is my fucking father?” she yelled to one of the waiters. In Spanish, he told her that her father was at a different club.
“Ava, help me to my father’s office.”
When she stood up, she screamed, and I could see her ankle was very badly swollen. Her foot seemed to be hanging in a very precarious way that indicated there was most definitely a broken bone. She was in so much pain she could barely speak. I hitched her up on my hip and called to the waiter to find the bouncer. A giant burly man came running in and quickly swooped her up. We made our way to her father’s office, where I ordered the bouncer to call the paramedics. I found a first-aid kit in a cabinet drawer and began wrapping up her ankle as she leaned back in her father’s giant leather chair.
Pain etched her face and black mascara streaks ran down her cheeks.
“Hold on, Sabina, they’ll be here very soon. Hang tight.” I found a clean rag, wet it, and put it on her forehead.
When the paramedics arrived, Sabina wouldn’t let go of my hand. “Stay with me,” she kept saying in her lightly accented English.
I didn’t leave her side. The paramedics let me ride in the ambulance and commended me on what a fine job I had done on her foot.