Emilia
“Watch, Millie!”Elodie said as she twirled around in her pink skirted leotard.
She was wearing an outfit that was similar to my first outfit. She even had her hair in pigtails, the way I used to wear mine. They way my mom used to put my hair up for me.
Briefly, I wondered if Jensen was the one who did her hair, but quickly dismissed the idea. I had no doubt Elodie had a nanny or a caretaker of some sort. I couldn’t imagine Jensen waking up just to do her hair before they left for the day.
Elodie and I had similar hair color and skin tone, so I supposed it was only notable that she reminded me so much of myself. It was probably why I was quickly becoming fond of her, even if I could admit to not being a kids person myself.
I smiled when she let out a proud smile at executing the twirls almost completely.
I clapped when she turned and looked at me. She playfully jumped up and down in her ballet slippers before moving over to me, sitting before me on the floor where I was stretching out my legs.
Elodie looked down at my legs curiously. I was wearing sweats because they were easier to move in, especially if I was trying to keep up with a two-year-old. The sweats had rolled up during my stretch, exposing the end of the metal pylon and a part of my prosthetic foot that wasn’t covered with my sock and shoe. I had expected her to say something, ask something about my legs when she’d first caught sight of the prosthesis when I walked into the room after changing, but she’d only offered a confusing look before focusing her attention on twirling.
That was what she wanted to learn today.
Mostly, we had been goofing off in front of the mirror.
It was as I said.
I was a damn glorified babysitter, but Elodie was so cute, I couldn’t find myself to be bitter about it.
That and the thirty thousand her father had deposited into my account this morning.
“Millie?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“What happened to your leg?”
She looked at my leg, then to her perfect little legs in front of her. She didn’t look terrified that I was different from her and was probably different from anyone she had ever met before. Mostly she looked perplexed, like she couldn’t understand why I was different.
“I got hurt a long time ago,” I told her, deciding to be honest. “The doctors had to cut off my leg.”
She frowned, almost looking sad. “Oh. Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But this here saved my life.”
I was sure she didn’t understand what I meant when I said it. I doubt she understood the concept of death. But she nodded, and I liked to remind myself that I was breathing now because the doctors had cut off my leg before the infection could spread, and most likely kill me.
“It’s cool,” I told her with a smile. “I’m like a robot.”
When she didn’t respond to that, I touched her shoulder. She looked up at me with big gray eyes.
“Would you like to touch it?” I asked.
She seemed excited over that. “Yes!”
I rolled my pant leg up all the way, and Elodie watched with fascinated eyes. She smiled a bit, before moving her hands down, first to the socket, before going lower to the rotator and knee joint.
Having an above the knee amputation meant it had been harder for me to learn how to walk again. I didn’t realize how much of my mobility was placed on the movements of my knees.
“Cool,” she said with a smile, and I had a feeling that was the first time she said that word.
I touched her chubby cheek. “Yeah, it is. Now, do you want to keep twirling?”
She hopped up, so full of energy.