Our waiter came to our table and took our order.  It gave me a moment to avoid the subject as we ordered, but it was only a momentary delay. 

"I had a feeling you would ask.   I've had the scar for years.  It's from a surgery to repair a childhood injury.   The scar isn't pretty and I used to hide it, but it is part of me.  I'm not ashamed of it any longer.  The experience helped me become the person I am today."  I smile at Amir hoping that I satisfied his curiosity.  

I expect Amir to say something, but he just leans closer and waits for me to continue.    I take a breathe and add, "A few years ago, I went out with a group of my girlfriends and we decided to get tattoos.  When it was my turn, I added a favorite quote to my scar."  I take a sip of my wine.  Hoping that was enough of an explanation, I look up and find Amir's eyes.  I have his complete attention and I know that look.  He won't let the subject drop.  He wants to know more.     

He breaks the silence and takes my right hand in his.  "I saw the tattoo when I zipped up your dress.   'She conquered her demons and wore her scars like wings.'  The words are beautiful.  I really want to hear the whole story.   You can trust me.  Please tell me how you got that scar."

My mind started racing trying to figure out where to begin.  I take a sip of my wine and look into his eyes and begin.  "I started ballet classes when I was three.  When I was little, it was fun.  I was always a girly girl.  I loved the tights, tulle skirts, ballet slippers and having my hair in that perfect bun.   I had a great teacher who focused on the fun.  I was a good at the fundamentals, but I struggled to feel the music and my timing was always off from the rest of group.  That was fine in the beginning.  As I got older, ballet became more competitive.  I hated struggling to keep up because dance didn't come naturally to me.  I stopped enjoying my classes. "

"It's hard to believe that you could be anything other than the top of your class.  Did you stop dancing?"  He asked as he gently rubbed his thumb over my hand. 

"Not at that point.  Part of me wishes that I would have been honest with my mom and told her that I didn't like dancing anymore.  I wanted to make her proud and she always thought I was the most beautiful dancer in the group.  She loved me and was blinded by her pride.  To make her proud, I worked twice as hard as the other girls in my classes." 

I pause and see that Amir is still hanging on my every word.  "When I started sixth grade, I progressed to the point where I needed to move to dance academy with a stronger program.  I spent all of my time practicing.   I still felt like a mediocre dancer, but I was better than the other girls in my original dance studio.  I was referred to a larger and more professional academy on the other side of town.  I interviewed and was accepted, but I went from being a big fish in a little pond to a guppy in a tank full of sharks."

Amir seems to move a bit closer to me and asks, "Did you get along with the sharks at the new academy?  I'm sure it's hard to be the new kid."

"Exactly, it's always hard to be the new kid.   It's even worse when you're the youngest student in an advanced group.  I was tall for my age and was almost the same height as my mom.  I was thin, but starting to get some curves.  I looked pretty mature for a sixth grader, but I was young for my grade and only ten at the time.  Most of the girls were a few years older and eager to move up to professional level.  I looked like I was their age and they immediately saw me as competition." 

I skip over the bullying and how our Mistress at the Academy looked the other way.  She had her favorites.  She loved the best dancers.  The ones who would be the next success stories for her academy.  They could do no wrong in her eyes.  No student would dare report one of her favorites. 

I take another sip of my wine and figure out how to approach the next part of the story.  I don't want Amir to pity me.  I hate the pity.  That's why I rarely tell the story. 

Before I can hold back the story starts spilling from my lips and takes on a life of its own.  "The Mistress of our Academy had a son in eighth grade who went to my school.  He was good looking and popular and he was a star athlete.   Everyone called him a football prodigy and he wasn't even in high school.   He was arrogant and rude, but I had a huge crush on him.   I wasn't alone.  When he visited the academy all the girls hung on his every word.  You could tell that he enjoyed every minute of it.  He found excuses to drop by often.  Sometimes, he brought his older friends and other times he came alone.  He always created a distraction during the classes and he soaked up the attention."

Amir squeezed my right hand and interrupted.  "Does this guy have a name?"

"His name was Scott, but I've called him a lot of other things over the years.   At first, Scott didn't pay a lot of attention to the new girl.  I'm not sure if he recognized me from school.  I was two grades behind him and nearly three years younger.    A couple of the older girls were in his grade and he focused his attention on them when he visited.  Eventually, his mom got sick of his interruptions and told him that he wasn't allowed to enter the studio any longer.   This seemed to reduce the number of unsolicited visits, but it didn't prevent them completely.  He would knock on the window and girls that were waiting for their next class would come out and talk with him. 

One day, Scott came by with a couple of his friends.  A couple of the older girls went out to talk with him when they were supposed to be practicing.  We were focused on lifts that day and the older girls were supposed to be practicing advanced lifts with our male ballet dancers.   They were almost ready to move up to a professional level and this type of class was logical for their progression.  I was excited to be invited to this class, even if I was only allowed to practice the most basic things that were taught.  Now, I understand that I was too young and inexperienced to be in that class at all. 

I spent my day on basic and intermediate lifts, but I had been watching the older girls across the room all day.   I was certain I could replicate their technique and I wanted desperately to prove myself.   When our instructor left the room I switched lines and queued up behind the remaining older dancers to attempt the advanced lift.  It was scary, but I committed and I completed a boat lift.  I'm sure it looked sloppy and my partner warned me that I better not let my instructor catch me.  I laughed and got back to my original line.  I felt great, but I noticed the other girls giving me dirty looks.  Even the girls outside with Scott were staring. 

A few minutes later, our Mistress entered the room and noticed half the class was outside with Scott.   I was closest to the door and she sent me out to get the other dancers back in the studio.  I was incredibly shy and hated doing that sort of thing.  I expected the girls to ignore me, but they listened right away and practically ran back into the studio.  I turned around to walk back into the studio when Scott called out my name. 

I was shocked that he knew who I was.  It was the first time that he ever said more than a few words to me.  I should have been suspicious, but I was young and stupid.  He asked me if he could talk with me for a few minutes.  I knew I should have gone inside, but I looked in the windows and his mom was busy critiquing the other girls. 

Scott and his friends started asking me questions about myself.  They asked me questions about my dancing.  I thought they were interested in getting to know me.    They told me that they saw me complete the lift.  I asked Scott not to tell his mom.  I told him that it was my first advanced lift and I did it without her permission.  He promised to keep my secret if I would let him lift me like my partner did earlier. 

I was hesitant, but he assured me that he grew up in the dance studio.  He used to dance and his mom taught him for years.  I just needed to trust him. 

So, I made the biggest mistake of my life.  I trusted a boy that I barely knew to keep me safe.  I committed completely.  I found myself running and leaping as I did with the male dancer.  Instead of catching me by the front of my hips and lifting me up, he stepped to the side and let my momentum propel me to the curb of the sidewalk.  I turned slightly as realized what was happening and tried to reach for Scott.  That twist was the worst thing possible since I ended up on my back taking the bulk of the impact to my spine.

The pain in my back was unbearable, but I was more concerned that I couldn't move.  My legs were numb and I didn't know what was happening.   I yelled for Scott and his friends, but they just ran away and left me on the ground.  Eventually, some of the other dancers heard me screaming and someone called an ambulance. 

The next few days were a blur.  I was rushed to the hospital where doctors did emergency surgery to stabilize my spine.  My mom and my grandparents took shifts and stayed with me around the clock.  I couldn't move and the doctors prepared me for the possibility that I might never walk again."

With that sentence, Amir pulls me closer.  He kisses my forehead and I see sadness and anger in his eyes.  "I can't believe he hurt you like that.  Then, he left you on the ground by yourself and didn't get you help.  You were only a little girl. You must have been so scared."

"It wasn't the first time a guy had hurt me and walked away and it certainly wasn't the last.   I wish that was the worst part of the story, but it isn't.  The injury wasn't the only way he hurt me."

The memories are coming back in waves now and I am reliving the pain as much as I am sharing the story with Amir.   I tell him how I was in the hospital for weeks.   At first, I had a lot of visitors.  My friends from school came by and called me constantly.  People in my classes at school made me cards and wrote me letters.  I received lots of flowers.  Even Scott and his family visited, but I felt like his mom forced him to be there.  He told me he was sorry and I accepted his apology.  I still thought I was in love with him even after how he treated me. 

After a few weeks, I regained some feeling in my legs and was able to control small movements, but the doctors knew something was wrong.   Eventually, they discovered a small bone fragment that was pressing on my spine.  The injury was so catastrophic that it was easy for the surgeons to miss that small piece during the original surgery. 

So, I was scheduled for a second surgery.  I spent another month in the hospital.  The second month was a lot lonelier.  I rarely got visitors.  Only a few of my closest friends called or came by.   Scott's mom came by a few times to check on me, but Scott never returned.  I was heartbroken. 

Then, I was released from the hospital.  I went home, but I needed help to do everything.  My mom took time off work and my grandparents helped out.  I had a nurse that checked in daily.  My independent study that I was doing at the hospital turned into a more permanent homeschool program.  My days were spent in physical therapy and doing school work.  By this time, I was totally isolated from everyone my own age and I started praying to recover enough to go back to school.

I worked hard in physical therapy.  I spent more time focused on PT than I previously spent in the dance studio.  I was used to working hard repeating movements for hours until they looked smooth.  So, I was the perfect patient.   I worked really hard and within a few months, I was able to walk very slowly with a walker.   A few months later, I graduated to using a cane.  By the end of the school year, I was walking on my own with a minor limp.   I rarely had visitors, so I was excited that I would be able to return to school in the fall.   I just wanted my life back. 

The summer was pretty boring.  I stayed home most of the time.  My sisters are five years younger, so we didn't have much in common at that point.  Friends from school didn't visit or even return my calls any longer.  My only entertainment became cooking and baking with my grandma.  

In September, I returned to school.  It was nearly a year after my accident.  I expected my friends to be excited to see me and for people to be happy that I was better.  Instead, people ignored me.   I felt like I was wearing a Scarlet Letter and I couldn't understand why everyone was being so rude.  Finally, someone told me that Scott had spread rumors about me the previous year.

Scott denied that he had any part in my accident.  He said that I was this pathetic girl that used to try to hang all over him when he visited his mom.  Scott told everyone that he was just standing outside and I came running and leaping at him with no warning.  He said that I hurt myself on purpose and then blamed him to get attention.   Scott made it seem like I had created this big plan to make him feel so sorry for me that he would agree to be my boyfriend.  When that didn't work, he said that I convinced his mom that he should be punished by not playing football freshman year.  I made sure that the best incoming player would let down his coach and his entire team.  I didn't even know that he wasn't playing football, so that had been a complete surprise to me. 

The next two years of school were tough.  Scott had moved on to high school, but he had done permanent damage to my reputation.  The dance academy closed and that brought a new round of rumors and blame spread by dancers who went to my school.  My circle of friends became much smaller and I tried to fade into the background in social situations.   I focused on my school work and became the top of my class.  I was driven to succeed.  I worked on the yearbook and newspaper.  I joined dance committees and clubs to find a place to belong again.

I thought that things would be better by my freshman year.   Unfortunately, when I moved up to the high school I started attending the same school as Scott.  He was far from ready to let things go.   Scott blamed me for his mom losing her dance studio and his parents' divorce.   Scott regained his position as the star quarterback on the football team after taking freshman year off, but the rest of his life was a mess.  His dad moved out of California taking his money with him.  Scott's mom moved into a small apartment and had to get a job working long hours.   In Scott's mind, all of these things were my fault.  He set out to make my life as miserable as his.  Scott taunted me and made me the target of constant pranks.  Things didn't get better until he finally graduated and left for college.

I take a big breath pulling myself out of my memories and look at the expression on his face.  I can't figure out what he's thinking. 

He clears his throat and tells me, "I wish I knew you back then.  I wish I could have been there for you.  Middle school and high school were challenging times for me, but I think you had it much worse."

I smile and suggest, "The experience made me who I am today.  I graduated as the valedictorian.   I found a place for myself in leadership, yearbook, journalism and lots of clubs and activities.  I balanced school with working part-time for a local company and volunteering for great organizations.  I learned how to overcome adversity and how to be successful.  I wouldn't be the person that I am today if my teenage years were easy."  

"Did you ever see Scott again after graduation?" Amir asks.

"Scott reached out to me after my graduation to apologize.  He tore his rotator cuff playing college football and that ruined his opportunity to play in the NFL.   Scott finally figured out what it was like to live through a major injury and he understood a little of what he put me through.  I met with him and accepted his apology.  I put it all behind me.  That summer, he tried to invite me to parties and asked to take me out.  I told him that I had no interest in spending time with him.  Forgiving him and wanting to be his friend were two different things."  

"You are so amazing.  I have a whole new respect for you after everything you've told me.  I'm so lucky that I met you." Amir pulls my hand to his lips and gently kisses it.