This sprained ankle had done so much more than just sideline her for a few weeks. It had put her future in stark relief. She could not count on pop-up fitness classes or the hope that views of her YouTube videos would provide enough income to live on. As of yesterday, she couldn’t even count on earning money from her clients, because she no longer had a client.

The decision to end their working relationship had not been a mutual one. Jamar contended that she could coach him via FaceTime or Zoom, but Taylor didn’t feel right continuing as his fitness instructor when she could no longer be there to provide adequate, one-on-one training. She offered to provide ongoing guidance as a friend, but she would not work as his paid trainer.

And then he’d completely negated her attempt to do the right thing by insisting he pay the balance of her consulting fee. They went back and forth, sending and returning the payment through Apple Pay before he pulled a fast one on her. He’d sent the money to Samiah, knowing she wouldn’t allow Taylor to return it.

Taylor was grateful, of course, but it felt as if she was taking advantage of his generosity. Or, more accurately, of his guilt, since he continued to maintain that her injury was his fault.

Yet, even with that huge lump sum payment from Jamar, which had thankfully allowed her to pay off two more credit cards and stash away enough money for the next couple of months’ rent, Taylor could not ignore her current reality. Just a few days ago, she’d thought she had it made. When Jamar disclosed that he wanted her to continue as his trainer indefinitely, the pressure to go back to school had all but evaporated.

Now it was back and more suffocating than ever.

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” she murmured.

Taylor covered her face with her hands and gave in to the tears she’d been fighting for days—for months. Fuck, for all her life! This shroud of dread had begun the day her first-grade teacher had handed her a multiple-choice test and shushed her for not reading the words silently. But it wasn’t enough for her to just see the words—she had to hear them in order to grasp the meaning.

Taylor thought back on what Jamar had said about his friend Silas. She’d skimmed books on learning disorders during past trips to the bookstore and, after some serious mental gymnastics, had grudgingly accepted that she could identify with a number of the listed common signs.

But if a learning disorder was behind the difficulties she’d faced all this time, how could she have gone through twelve years of school without being aware she had one? How had everyone missed this? Her parents? Her teachers? No one had recognized that she learned differently from other kids?