Max
and Jess are having an engagement party at Jess’s friend’s apartment, and we’ve
been invited. Because the party is going
pretty late, Brody explained that Sean is going to come with us and help him
out with his bedtime routine after. I go
to Brody’s apartment first, with the plan for us all to get to the party
together.
When
I get to the Brody’s apartment, he’s already dressed up in a really cute long-sleeved
black dress shirt and dark slacks. He
looks incredibly sexy. Sean’s there too,
and I notice immediately that he stinks of cigarette smoke. I hate the smell of cigarettes—it always
makes me feel sort of short of breath. I
had asthma as a kid and I can almost feel my airways narrowing.
“Emily!”
Sean says when he sees me, flashing me this broad grin like I didn’t bail on
him two of the two times I’ve met him.
“You are looking quite ravishing tonight.”
I
don’t look ravishing. I never look ravishing. And frankly, the
fact that he said it is just insulting—and I’ll bet he knows it. But I still manage to force a smile. “Hi, Sean.”
Brody
pushes his hand into the joystick on his chair to go into the living room. “All right, let’s head out.”
I
follow Brody into the living room, and to my utter surprise, he’s got another
wheelchair in there. This one is a
manual wheelchair, much smaller than the power model he usually uses. I have no idea what it’s doing here.
“Jess
told me her friend’s apartment has got a flight of stairs and no elevator,”
Brody explains. “So this is the easiest
way for me to manage it.”
“I
didn’t know you could push a chair like that,” I say. If he could use a regular wheelchair, why on
earth would he use a powerchair? The
manual chair is so much less assuming. Much easier to fit through narrow
spaces. Plus the powerchair is definitely a liability sometimes. There are times when I’ll be out somewhere
with Brody, and he’ll tell me that his chair is nearly out of batteries, so we
have to go home.
“Sure
I can,” Brody says. He holds up his arms
and I now see he’s wearing rigid splints on each wrist. “These brace my wrists. But it’s really hard work. It kills my shoulders.”
Brody
lines up next to the manual chair. Sean
leans in toward him and Brody grabs his brother around the neck. Sean actually is pretty good at helping with
the transfer, which makes me realize how much he’s probably done it over the
years. As Brody settles in the manual
wheelchair, his legs start to spasm violently, but calm down after a minute.
Sean
helps him secure a belt across his chest and his ankles, then moves the power
wheelchair out of the way. “What’s the belt for anyway?” I blurt out suddenly.
Brody
looks up at me in surprise. He glances
down at the strap that arches over his gut.
“It’s to keep me from falling forward when I reach for stuff,” he
explains. “If my torso fell forward, I
might not be able to get up again.”
“Oh,”
I say.
He
frowns. “Why? Do you think it looks
bad?”
“No,
of course not,” I say quickly. “I was
just wondering.”
He
bites his lip. “I could take it off, if
you want. I mean, I’ll be with you guys,
so…”
“Christ,
Brody,” Sean interrupts us. “Emily said it’s fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Stop
being so goddamn insecure about everything.
She’s dating you—obviously, she likes the way you look. For some reason.”
Brody
smiles crookedly at me and shrugs.
Although as soon as Sean is out of earshot, he asks me again if I’d like
him to undo the belt. I have to admit,
the belt isn’t the most flattering thing in the world. It makes his gut look
way bigger than it would otherwise, considering unlike me, he’s not actually
fat. But I can tell he feels more secure
with it on. So what am I supposed to
say?
As
I watch Brody wheel the manual wheelchair, I can see that it’s not easy for
him. It’s got little spokes sticking out
of the wheels to help him get a grip, but he’s still struggling a lot. When we get out in the hallway, which is
covered in carpeting, he almost can’t do it. That’s when Sean offers to push
him and Brody accepts.
When
we get outside, Sean immediately lights up a cigarette. Brody flashes his brother a dirty look and waves
his splinted hand in front of his nose.
“Cut the attitude, Bro,” Sean says.
“You used to smoke like a chimney.”
“I
had a trach for three months, you idiot,” Brody says. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”
“Fine,”
Sean grumbles and stubs out the cigarette.
He
goes to hail a cab, and he expertly transfers Brody into the back seat and
loads his wheelchair into the trunk.
Brody’s having major spasm issues while we’re in the taxi, to the point
where he’s shaking nearly the whole time and finally apologizes to me. “I think I’m at a bad angle,” he says. He attempts to adjust himself, but it doesn’t
seem to help.
I’d
been wondering exactly how Brody was going to get up the stairs to the
apartment. When we get there, I find
out: Max comes out, and he and Sean take either end of the wheelchair and lift
Brody backwards up the stairs. Again,
they do it so easily that I have to imagine that they’ve done it many times
before.
Brody
has got to be used to this routine, but he still seems mildly embarrassed. Maybe because I’m watching him. I have to admit, there’s definitely something
a little awkward about the whole thing.
Especially when Brody’s body sways with each step climbed.
“And
that, Emily, is how your boyfriend climbs up a flight of stairs,” Sean says to
me when they lower him to the ground at the top of the stairs.
“It’s
just the one flight, right?” Brody asks Max, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes,
we’re right over here,” Max says, gesturing at an apartment a few feet away.
And
after that, Brody is totally fine. Well,
aside from needing Sean to give him a little push to help him over the
doorframe, but after that he’s fine. He
can’t wheel the chair super well, even with his splints, but he doesn’t have to
go very far in the small apartment. And
there’s no carpeting, which definitely helps.
“Do
you want some wine?” I ask him, looking over at the table of refreshments.
“No,
thanks,” Brody says.
“Wine?”
Sean snorts. “Is that all they’ve got?”
I
wish it were. Unfortunately, they’ve got
the full array of alcoholic beverages.
Sean pours himself a shot of vodka and I can see the disapproval on
Brody’s face. But of course, Sean’s an
adult and can do whatever he wants.
Hopefully, he won’t go overboard tonight.
After
I pour myself a glass of wine, we make the rounds. Brody knows most of the people in the room
and introduces me around. Everyone is
really nice, if a little on the dorky side.
Actually, that makes me feel better.
If everyone were cool and sophisticated, I’d feel lost here.
So
I have to be honest about something: I find Brody sexier in the manual
wheelchair. I’ve gotten used to his
other chair, but this one makes me feel like there’s less wheelchair between
him and me. It’s more sporty and makes
him seem less impaired even though it’s harder for him to control it. After I’ve gotten a couple of drinks in me, I
can’t help but comment, “I really like this wheelchair.”
As
I say it, I put my hand on Brody’s shoulder and slide it up onto his neck. He grins up at me, “Yeah?”
I
nod, still rubbing his neck. I’d never
have the nerve to do this in public if I hadn’t been drinking, but Brody
definitely doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s
sexy,” I say. Well, as much as a
wheelchair can be sexy. Which isn’t a
whole lot, I suppose.
“I
could try to use it a little more,” Brody says, although he sounds a little
dubious. “My powerchair is definitely a
lot easier for me. I wouldn’t feel
comfortable going on any big trips with this chair, but… maybe around the
apartment… I could…”
Suddenly
I feel a guilty. I don’t want to be
selfish. Obviously, he’s much more
comfortable in his other wheelchair.
“No, that’s okay. I like the
other one too.”
He
doesn’t argue with me.
After
another glass of wine, I need to pee desperately, even though I just freaking
went before I left Brody’s apartment.
Seriously, I don’t know what’s wrong with my stupid bladder. I get in the line for the bathroom, and when
I’m inside, I see that my cheeks are pleasantly pink. I’m definitely buzzed right now. I just wish Brody would get a little buzzed
with me. I offered him some wine, but he
pushed it away. That’s a stark contrast
from what Sean is doing, which seems to be guzzling alcohol like his life
depends on it.
When
I return from the bathroom, I catch the tail end of a conversation between Ford
and Brody. They don’t see me, and
although I hate to eavesdrop, I take advantage of this fact to listen in.
“I’m
never going to meet a girl,” Ford is saying.
“I can’t believe he’s getting married and I can’t even get a date.”
Poor
Ford. He’s nice, but a little odd
looking, pretty introverted, and definitely very eccentric. Maybe he’d get a date if he’d lose the
bowtie.
“I’m
sure you’ll meet someone soon,” Brody says.
“That’s
easy for you to say,” Ford replies.
“You’ve got Emily.”
“I
know,” Brody says. “I’m really lucky she
likes me.”
I
almost burst into tears when he says that.
It’s too amazing that I not only have a boyfriend, but I’ve got one who
really seems to adore me. Pretty good
for a “morbidly obese” girl.
When
Brody sees me, his face lights up.
“Emily!” he says in that excited way I’ve come to love.
“Hey,”
I say, grinning back at him. I boldly
walk up to him and run my fingers through his hair, which makes him smile even
wider.
Brody
nods in Ford’s direction. “Listen, Ford
says he’ll help me transfer to the sofa.
Do you want to, um, sit together?”
Sometimes
it’s a little odd how much planning it takes just to do something as simple as
sitting down next to my boyfriend. But I
don’t mind. It only makes the intimacy
more special. Plus I’ve had a few drinks
now, and I’m pretty touchy feely. The
couch seems like a spectacular idea.
Brody
wheels himself over to the couch and lines up in front of it. He goes through the routine I’m now very
familiar with, in which Ford undoes his straps, he puts his arms around Ford’s
neck, and Ford lifts him onto the sofa. Together,
they fix his legs, and Brody gives his wheelchair a push to get it out of the
way.
Once
Brody is arranged on the sofa, I sit down next to him. Except the sofa is a lot softer than I
expected. As my butt sinks into the
cushions, I hear a spring make a frightening noise. I’m so deep in the couch that my ass is
practically touching the floor.
“Thanks,
Ford,” Brody says as he puts his arm around my shoulders. “You’re the best.”
Ford
nods, not looking particularly happy.
But I don’t have much time to dwell on Ford, because at that moment,
Brody leans forward and starts kissing me.
God, he’s a superb kisser.
We
spend the next hour making out. I’ve never made out with Brody while buzzed
before, and I feel like I can’t get enough of him. I love his lips, his cheeks, his neck, his
chest, his everything. All I can think
about is that it’s a damn shame that we can’t have sex tonight. Because I feel like I’m ready.
“Hey,”
Brody says as he pulls away from me and looks around the room. “It’s starting to clear out. We should probably go.”
“Yeah,”
I agree. I run my hand up his chest,
around his neck and into his hair, and I see him swallow hard. “I wish I could go home with you.”
“Me
too… so much,” he murmurs. He
sighs. “But… you know, Sean can’t…”
“I
know,” I say quickly.
Brody
shakes his head and sighs. “Could you go get Ford to help me back in my chair?”
“Right,”
I say.
I
put my hands on either side of me and push against the sofa. But my butt doesn’t budge. I brace my feet against the floor and rock a
little to give myself some momentum, but I still don’t move. Well, not up,
anyway.
“What’s
wrong?” Brody asks.
I
contemplate my situation. I don’t think
I can get up off the sofa myself. And
obviously, Brody can’t get me up either, considering he can’t even get himself
up. We are therefore both trapped on
this stupid crappy sofa. And this
horribly embarrassing situation must be shared with another person.
“I
think I’m stuck,” I admit to Brody.
His
eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
Nope,
just kidding! Wasn’t that
hilarious? “Yes, I’m serious!” I hiss at
him.
“Right,
sorry,” he says. He shakes his head,
taking in the situation himself.
“Christ.”
Max
is the nearest person in possible earshot.
Brody calls out his name a few times before he puts down his drink and
comes over. He looks concerned. “Everything okay? You need help getting up?”
“Actually,”
Brody says with a crooked smile, “we both
need help getting up.”
Max
looks at me and I feel my cheeks grow warm.
“I just need a little boost,” I explain.
“Uh,
sure,” Max says. He smiles awkwardly and
reaches out an arm to me. “Ladies
first.”
I
grab on to Max’s arm. Probably when I
first sat down, that would have been sufficient to get me to my feet, but right
now, after an hour of sitting, I am really firmly wedged into the sofa. I can see Max’s face turning red with
exertion, and I still can’t get up. All
I’m managing to do is get him off balance.
In a minute, he’ll be on the couch too.
“Um,”
Max says finally. “Maybe I’ll help Brody
first and then we’ll figure this out.”
Max
manages to help Brody transfer without a problem. After he’s arranged back in his wheelchair, I
can see the relief on his face. That’s probably how I’d feel if I were standing
up right now instead of wedged in this goddamn sofa.
“Don’t
worry, Emily,” Max says. “I’ll get
help.”
When
Max is looking for help, I murmur to Brody, “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t
worry about it,” he says. “It’s not your
fault.”
Except
it is my fault. Who else’s fault
would it be? A skinny girl wouldn’t be trapped on this sofa right now. Hell, even an overweight girl would probably
be able to get up. It’s me.
I’m the only one who gets stuck in couches and can’t get myself back
up.
God,
how could Brody be attracted to me? I can
barely even look at him.
Max
finally retrieves his friend Josh, the owner of this apartment as well as this
woman-eating couch. Josh is in his
mid-twenties, and as scrawny as Max, but at least now there are two of
them. When Josh sees me, his eyes widen.
“Fuck,
she must weigh, like, 400 pounds,” Josh comments to Max. “How should we do
this?”
I
wish the couch would just get it over with and swallow me up.
“I
think if we each grab an arm and pull, that should do it,” Max says
thoughtfully.
Again,
I brace myself against the floor and say a prayer. I really don’t want to get another person
involved in getting me off this couch. Luckily, with the two men pulling on my arms,
my butt comes free with one last angry protest from the springs. I take a second to steady myself on my feet.
“Are
you fucking kidding me?” Josh yelps.
“Look what she did to my fucking couch!”
I
look down where I had just been sitting.
There is a huge dent in the couch in the shape of my ass. That’s just great.
“I’m
sure it’ll be fine,” Max says quickly, before I can apologize. “It’ll spring back.”
Josh
presses his hand against my ass groove on the couch. It doesn’t seem to be springing back any time
this year. “It’s not springing back,” he
reports angrily. “It’s broken. This fat bitch broke my fucking couch.” He glares at me. “You owe me a couch.”
Honestly,
I’d happily buy him a new couch and matching loveseat if he’d just drop the
whole thing right now. But when I look
at Brody’s face, I can tell things have escalated to a really bad place.
“Hey,
watch what you say about my girlfriend,” Brody says. I can hear that edge in his voice, the same
one he had when he spoke to Norm. It
makes me think of what Camille said, about how wild he used to be. That Brody
Nolan wasn’t a guy that nice girls hung around. I get the feeling he wasn’t the
kind of guy you could push around. Not
figuratively, at least.
Josh
probably would have backed down, but he’s obviously been drinking, so he just
sneers at Brody, and says, “Well, your girlfriend’s fat ass broke my couch.”
“Your
couch is a piece of shit,” Brody shoots back.
Brody, please stop defending me.
“My
couch is not a piece of shit!” Josh
retorts. “This was a fucking great couch before your whale of a
girlfriend crushed it. It’s the best
couch I ever had!”
“You
did find that couch out at the curb,”
Max speaks up.
Josh
glares at Max like he wants to punch him in the face. Which very well might have happened in the
next five minutes if Ford didn’t approach the group, still wearing his dapper
little bowtie, and announce, “We have a problem, guys.”
Josh
whips his head in Ford’s direction.
“What the fuck is wrong now?”
Ford
glances at Josh, then at Brody. “Sean is
passed out in the bedroom. He threw up
in the bathroom. Next to the toilet.”
Brody
groans and drops his head. “That fucking
asshole. He promised…”
The
vomit issue has apparently superseded the couch issue. Everyone sprints in the direction of the
bathroom, except for Brody, who is wheeling toward the bedroom. The bedroom is
about as far as he’s had to go the whole night, and I can see he’s struggling a
little. Each push moves him about a
foot. About three quarters of the way
there, he stops for a minute, slightly winded.
“Do you want me to push you?” I ask.
For
a second, he looks like he’s seriously considering it. “Nah, I’m fine,” he finally says.
Sure
enough, Sean is lying on his stomach diagonally across the queen-sized bed. His eyes are slightly open, but only the
whites are showing. A dark looks comes
over Brody’s face. He wheels over to
Sean and nudges him hard with his elbow.
“Wake up, fucker!”
“Ten
more minutes, Mom…” Sean mumbles into the sheets.
Brody
grits his teeth. “Are you fucking
kidding me with this, Sean? You told me four drinks maximum. You swore
to me.”
Sean
lifts his broad face for a second and says, “What can I say? I’m a lightweight.” Then he leans over the side of the bed and
vomits on the floor.
“Fuck!”
Brody yells.
I’ve
never seen him look quite this pissed off before, but I guess he has a
right. Not only did Sean get drunk and
vomit all over a virtual stranger’s room (which Brody obviously can’t help
clean up), but he was also supposed to be helping Brody get home and get to
bed. Sean completely screwed him
over. And not for the first time.
It’s
clear there’s no sobering Sean up. Brody
looks incredibly frustrated. He drops
his head into his forearm and sighs. “I
could help you get into bed at home,” I offer.
Brody
lifts his head. “Thanks, Emily, but…
it’s a little more involved than that.”
“What’s
wrong, Bro?” Sean slurs. “Too good to
have your girlfriend handle your bag of piss?”
Brody’s
face turns bright red. “Shut the fuck
up, you drunk piece of shit.”
He
is really pissed off.
I
watch as Brody starts making calls.
First he calls Mike and explains the situation: “I’m so sorry to bother
you, but I’m really stuck. Sean was
supposed to help me, but he’s completely trashed. Do you think you could get me into bed?”
“I
wish I could help,” Mike says through the speakerphone. “I’m over three hours away, Brody. I’m really sorry.”
Brody
calls Nancy, his morning PCA, and then a guy named Steve who does back-up when
Nancy or Mike aren’t around. Nobody can
come over on a Saturday night on such short notice. Brody looks like he’s close to tears. Finally, he calls one last number.
“Brody,
honey?” a sleepy female voice says on the other line. “What’s wrong?”
“Hi,
Mom,” Brody says. “I, uh, I really hate
to do this to you, but I’m stuck. Sean
and I went to this party in the city and he’s passed out drunk. He was supposed to help me get home and get
into bed, but obviously he can’t. I
called everyone else and nobody is available.
Do you think there’s any way that you or Dad could come out here in the
van and help me out?”
“Yes,
of course, sweetie,” Maggie Nolan’s voice says instantly. “Dad and I were just going to bed, but… well,
if you need me, of course I’ll come help you.
And I’ll drive Sean home too.”
“Thanks,
Mom,” Brody says. “I really, really
appreciate it.” Although when he hangs
up the phone, he looks completely miserable.
It
takes a while for Brody’s mother to drive over, but we’ve got plenty to do. Namely, cleaning up vomit. I’m side by side with Josh, cleaning up his
bathroom, and neither of us mentions what happened out in the living room
earlier. I feel bad for Josh, because
not only is his couch broken, but now his whole apartment smells vaguely of
puke even after we’ve cleaned and sprayed the room. Despite his confrontation earlier with Josh, Brody
apologizes to him a bunch of times, and keeps saying, “I really wish I could
help.” I actually almost believe him.
Then
Max and Ford carry Brody’s wheelchair down the stairs. After Brody’s in the lobby, they go back to
get Sean, who is still not quite able to walk on his own. They sit him down on a bench and he somehow
manages to stay upright. I can see Brody
glaring at him.
Shortly
after, a familiar van pulls up to the curb.
Maggie gets out of the van, looking surprisingly fresh, considering
she’d been dragged out of the house at midnight. Maggie seems like one of those tough women,
who can handle anything that gets thrown at her. Including one son who’s a quadriplegic and
one who’s a drunk.
When
Maggie sees Sean nearly passed out on that bench, she clucks her tongue. “Oh, Sean,” she says.
Sean
cracks his eyes open to stare up at his mother.
“Sorry, Mom,” he says sheepishly.
“This
is the last time you’re doing this, Sean Daniel Nolan,” she barks at him. “Tomorrow, you mark my words, we are going to
have a long talk. It’s been long enough
getting over Gracie.”
Max
helps her load Sean into the front seat of the car. As Max is helping Sean fumble with his
seatbelt, Maggie returns to us. “Hello
again, Emily,” she says, smiling at me like she didn’t just get pulled out of
bed in the middle of the night. “It’s so
good to see you. You look beautiful.”
“Mom,”
Brody mumbles, his ears turning red.
“Oh,
quiet,” Maggie says to him. She turns
back to me. “Emily. May I give you a ride home, dear?”
“Uh,
okay,” I say. Cabs have a surcharge at
this hour, and I don’t see any on the street anyway.
Maggie
gets back in the van, and lowers the ramp for Brody to board. In this chair though, he has trouble with
ramps, even one as level as this one, so I give him a push to get him
inside. Then I climb into the back next
to him.
“Do
you need any help, Maggie?” Max calls to her.
“Oh
no,” Maggie says cheerfully. “I can
handle my boys.”
Maggie
starts up the car and we’re off—it helps that there isn’t much traffic. Sean is only barely conscious, but it’s clear
she’s not going to let him have any peace over this. Even though I’m in the car and not family,
she goes on quite a montage about how he’s ruining his life and hurting all the
people who love him. I actually feel a
little bit sorry for him.
“Brody
was counting on your help tonight,” she reminds him. “Now what if I hadn’t been available? What then?”
“Sorry,”
Sean mumbles.
“Well,
lucky thing I was,” Maggie says. “Brody,
please remind me. Do you do your bowel
program at night or in the morning these days?”
Brody
looks horrified. “Mom!”
Maggie
glances at the back seat and her eyes widen.
Apparently, she’d just plum forgotten that I was sitting here. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry about that.”
“He
does it at night,” Sean finally answers, his head sagging against the headrest.
There’s
a long silence and Brody won’t even look at me for the rest of the ride. We can’t arrive at my building fast enough,
honestly. When we get there, I quickly
kiss Brody goodnight, thank Maggie for the ride, and get the hell out of there.
To be continued...
I'm wondering if Emily is starting to have some health problems. Idk, I guess I'm just reading into things. But what a lousy host. And hmmm... Sean ruining things over a girl? Was this girl the reason he got so drunk and caused the wreck? Thanks for the update!
ReplyDeleteTc
No, you're not just reading into it!
DeleteOh no! my first thought was possibly diabetes. All those sweets she eats and then you mentioned going to the bathroom constantly. That sentence just reminded me of reading BSC when Stacy learned she had it. But being overweight can cause so many problems. I'm scared for her, it's going to be a HUGE wakeup call when she finds out whatever she's got. And I can't believe I actually figured something out, I usually never do. Can't wait til Sunday!
DeleteTc
HI Annabelle..
ReplyDeleteI still like your story though I didnt seem to comment so far..
Ive been a fan of all your books
i cant wait to see emily transform
please it hurts to see her that way..
i like brody very much ..
and i look forward to every sunday's story..
y l
Sorry, don't mean to make it too painful for you! :)
DeleteThank you for posting so consistently! I look for your story as soon as I can every week. I am dying to see what happens next, this couple is real when I'm reading the story. You've done a great job writing.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I promise I'll be back next week.
DeleteEnthralling update: thank you!
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting :)
DeleteWow--what a great chapter! Emily and Brody have so much to contend with and it's rewarding to see how they continue on. Although the way the party ended was very painful to see. And like Tc I'm worried about Emily's health too. Can't wait for the next installment!
ReplyDeleteThanks! I knew it was going to be painful to read, so I'm sorry!
DeleteI enjoy this story so much! I saw this beautiful wedding photo on modcloth and it made me think of Emily and Brody a little bit. Obviously, not exactly, but its pretty sweet. http://s3.amazonaws.com/media.modcloth/images/media/000/332/885/large/1466950378.941324.jpg?1466950408
ReplyDeleteAw, totally :)
DeleteLot's of issues to deal with in this wonderful chapter! Great writing, as always. Thanks for the update.
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting :)
DeleteLove all the drama and it doesn't seem to be pulling them apart. Great writing as usual. That couch scene just so painful to read.
ReplyDeleteI love that this story is full of imperfect people it's so refreshing and authentic. It's so much more enthralling when our protagonists are flawed like the rest of us. The story is so well written you are truly gifted!!
ReplyDelete