Because Dandelions Are Pretty

There were about forty-five minutes left until both patients' operations began. Bill and Aubrey were still sitting on her bed messing around with the guitar. She was busy trying to figure out the chords to 'An Deiner Seite' with Bill singing along.

"Owch. That doesn't sound right," Aubrey giggled as she strummed once and a flat note came out.

"Try again," Bill encouraged her.

"Nein. My fingers ache," Aubrey said, shaking her head and letting the guitar slide down to rest on the bed sheets.

Bill stared at her.

"What?" Aubrey asked.

"Did you say 'nein?'" he asked with a smile.

"Ja. I'm slowly learning German from you. Proud?"

"Insanely."

Aubrey rolled her eyes but kept the grin plastered on her. "So, you won't be able to speak after your surgery, will you?"

Bill shook his head. "I'll be in recovery for about a month."

Aubrey flinched. "That sucks. What will you guys do after that?"

"Well we have a few concert dates in the United States set up after I heal. Once that's over then I guess it's back to Germany for more European dates. We'll see how it goes." Bill shrugged.

He leaned back to recline against the pillows. Aubrey mimicked him and settled herself next to him.

"What about you?" Bill asked softly.

"What about me?" Aubrey countered.

"Well it's not like you're just going to give up on everything after your surgery. Did you plan anything out?"

Aubrey didn't respond. Bill tilted his head to the side and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He gently began to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. She quickly looked away from him, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Aubrey?" Bill prodded. "What's the matter?"

"Fencing is everything to me," Aubrey muttered sadly. "You can understand. For you, singing is everything."

Bill nodded in slow understanding.

"Ever since I was in middle school, I've always wanted to travel the world. Be a pro, you know? Maybe someday go to the real Olympics when I'm old enough and have had lots of experience. I've been looking forward to these Junior Olympics for such a long time. I've trained for years, spent hours of my free time practicing, trying to make it all worthwhile..."

She sighed. "It's hard to explain unless you've actually fenced before. It's just the feeling you get...the control you have, and the fluid motions...the way you can become so powerful in such a short amount of time, and still be graceful and beautiful..."

Her voice broke, and Bill realized she was crying. He snaked his arms around her torso and pulled her into his chest.

"Don't cry, don't cry," Bill pleaded.

"I'm s-sorry...I can't h-help it," Aubrey sobbed against him. "I just can't imagine g-giving this up..."

"What do you mean? I thought..." Bill wracked his brains. "I mean, I know you will be one leg short. But at the guitar shop, Tom was telling me he heard about wheelchair fencing. It's just as legitimate and it's still fencing except-"

But Aubrey was shaking her head violently. "No. I won't even c-consider that."

"Why not? Aubrey, it's not as if people will pity you because you're fencing in a wheelchair."

"But that's just it Bill. People will pity me. Sure, you won't, and Tom might not, but that's because you two know me. Strangers can't help but think that something horrible happened to me and that I need sympathy. I don't want that. I don't want people to feel bad for me just because I have one less limb than they do."

Bill brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead softly. "You don't have to give up your dream just because you're afraid," he whispered.

"It's not about fear, Bill. It's about pride. I've spent years making a decent name for myself, and now people will only remember me as the girl who never made it because she's missing a leg."

"But if you keep doing what you love, people will remember you as the girl who did make it."

Aubrey shook her head. "I can't. Fencing in a wheelchair...I don't know how I'd be able to do it. The way I move my legs is more than half of the beauty of the sport."

Bill sighed sadly but said nothing to counter her. "So...you're giving up after your surgery? That's it?"

To his surprise, Aubrey chuckled wryly. "No Bill. I'm giving up before my surgery."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Aubrey?"

He sat up on his elbows and looked down at her. "What are you saying?"

Aubrey's eyes filled with more tears. "I don't want surgery Bill. I want to risk it. I want to risk going in septic shock. I want to risk dying."

The meaning of her words slammed into Bill full force.

"What?!" he exploded. Aubrey winced away from him, but he grabbed her face in between his hands. "You want to die? You'd rather die than go through surgery?"

"It's more c-complicated than that," Aubrey cried.

Bill shook his head so hard that he became dizzy. "Nein. Nein, nein, nein. There's nothing to complicate this. You can't just...you can't..." Bill was at a loss for words. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth over Aubrey's cheeks, trying to reason with her. "You'll be leaving everything behind. Noah, your parents, fencing, me..." Tears leaked down Bill's face. "How can you think like that?"

His heart hammered in his chest. One minute they were laughing and making music, and the next they were discussing Aubrey's possible demise. How quickly conversations were turning...

Aubrey chewed on her bottom lip to try and stop the flow of tears. "Bill, please, don't make this any harder..."

"Than it has to be? Like hell I won't!" His hands moved to stroke her hair. "Don't you dare leave me, Aubrey. Don't do this to yourself. You'll always have another chance at things. You don't have to do this in order to solve your problems. This won't solve anything! You're just hurting everyone else. At least with your operation you'd only be incapacitated for a short while."

"I'd rather be dead and remembered than alive and pitied," Aubrey spluttered.

Bill's body shook violently with sobs tearing from his chest. He shut his eyes to try and control himself, but nothing helped. Aubrey wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to rest on her chest, stroking his back with trembling hands of her own. Bill buried his face in her neck and kept sobbing. Words from him were no longer possible.

The door opened just then and Tom's voice sliced through the thick atmosphere: "Bill, we have to leave – the doctors are ahead of schedule. It's time for your surgery."