John
It
happens so goddamn fast. One minute I’m wheeling down the street, the next I’m
tasting pavement.
At
first, I can’t even figure out what happened.
I’m dazed by the crash to the ground and I think maybe I hit an obstacle
in the road and my chair lost its traction.
But then I hear the guy yelling at Kirby to give him her purse and I
know exactly what happened.
I’ve
landed on my stomach and my wheelchair is toppled over next to me. Getting back into the chair on my own is an
impossibility. Hell, rolling over is an
impossibility. In bed, I use rails on
either side of the bed to help me roll and maneuver. On the street, I don’t have that. Also, I landed on my bad shoulder and it
hurts like a mother when I make even a halfhearted attempt to roll over.
I’m
totally fucking helpless down here.
The
man is threatening Kirby, a knife glinting in his hand. “Give me your purse, bitch! Or else I’ll kill you and the cripple!”
I
wish I could save her. I’ve actually got
mace in my wheelchair, but even if I could somehow get to it, fat lot of good
it would do me down here on the ground. All
I can do is watch this man threatening the woman I love while she inexplicably
clutches her purse. And now I can see
his eyes flicking down to her breasts—this isn’t going in any sort of good
direction.
“Give
him the fucking purse!” I scream at her from the ground.
Kirby
blinks a few times, as if coming out of a trance. She shoves the purse at the man, who
thankfully starts running away. She’s
lost her purse, but that’s just stuff.
She’s not hurt. He didn’t rape
her. I did having to lie here on the
ground, watching him violate her.
Kirby
falls to her knees beside me. “John? Are
you okay?”
Only
my left shoulder and my pride. “Yeah.
I’m okay.”
“Can…
can you get up?”
“No,”
I admit. “You should probably call the
police now.” Then, realizing she
probably lost her phone to the mugger, I say, “My phone is in the pouch on the
side of my chair.”
Kirby
manages to find my phone and call 911.
The police say they’re on their way, although the guy with her purse is
likely long gone. But they’ll come to
take a report and also help me back into my wheelchair.
I
try again to roll over while she’s on the phone. When I put weight on my left shoulder, it
feels like a knife is stabbing me. All I
can do is lift my upper body partially off the ground, but even that is a
struggle. I feel like an insect that got
flipped over and can’t right itself.
“Kirby,”
I say when she hangs up with the police.
“Could you…” I avert my eyes. “Could you help me roll over onto my
back?”
I
still remember that day at her house, when she refused to help me make that
transfer from her sofa back to my chair.
But today, she’s all in. “Of
course. What do you want me to do?”
I
give her instructions on how to lift my hip and fold my left leg over the
right. With her covering the weight of
my leg, I’m able to make it the rest of the way. Once I’m on my back, I can use the strength
in my upper arms to sit up. I find my
balance, mostly slumping forward as I use my arms to support me. I’m sure I look ridiculous and my shoulder is
on fire, but it’s better than lying on the pavement.
“Are
you okay?” Kirby asks me again.
“Fine,”
I lie. “Are you okay?”
She
snorts. “I’ve been better.”
I
look down at my lap, at my gut jutting out in the awkward position I’m keeping
myself in just to stay sitting up. “I’m
sorry I couldn’t help.”
“John,
come on…” she says. “I mean, the guy had
a knife… what were you supposed to do?”
“He
wouldn’t have attacked you if you weren’t with a guy in a wheelchair. If you were with some six foot tall guy with
big muscles.”
Kirby
doesn’t disagree.
I’m
feeling really sorry for myself by the time the cop car pulls up. Two guys around my age get out of the car
dressed in police uniforms. They see
Kirby with her arms wrapped around her chest, and then me on the sidewalk, my
wheelchair next to me.
“Everyone
okay here?” the taller of the two men asks. “Do we need to call for the
paramedics?”
“I’m
fine,” I say quickly. Fuck, the last thing I want is to get more people
involved. “I just need help getting back
in my wheelchair.”
The
taller officer holds me under my arms and the other one holds me under my legs,
and they position me back in my chair. I
hate being lifted that way. But Christ,
what a relief to be back in my chair. It’s
the typical love-hate relationship of a quad with his wheelchair—wish I weren’t
stuck with it, but what the hell would I do without it?
The
shorter officer squints down at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m
fine,” I say again, as I adjust my legs in the footrests.
“So
what happened here?” the taller officer asks Kirby. “You said you got mugged?”
Kirby
nods and tells him the story. I wince
when she describes how I got thrown from my chair. I’d give anything to not have to relive this
humiliation with the cops. The worst
part is that they don’t even seem surprised that the mugger took me out that
way. Of course he did, right?
They
don’t seem terribly optimistic about retrieving Kirby’s purse. The only
positive thing is that her cell phone was in there, so they think maybe they
can locate it that way. Who knows? At this point, I just want to get the fuck
out of here.
“Do
you need a ride home?” the taller officer asks us.
“No,
we’re good,” I say. My car is only a
block away. Hopefully, we can manage to
make it there without getting mugged again.
My biggest worry, actually, is how my shoulder is going to feel when I
do that transfer.
Sure
enough, the second I start wheeling toward the car, my shoulder starts hurting
like a mother. I can’t fucking believe
this shit. Wasn’t I in bad enough shape
without this happening to me?
That’s
the problem when less than half your body is functional. Just about any injury is enough to fuck up
your life and take away your independence.
If I can’t wheel my chair, then what am I supposed to do? If I can’t transfer myself, then I’m really
screwed. I’ve got the number of a home
health agency that I used once when I first came home from the hospital after a
bout of pneumonia, but it sucks being dependent on an aide just to get in and
out of bed. And bathing—if I can’t
transfer, I can’t get onto my shower bench, which means I’ll need help for that too.
No,
fuck that. I’ll just deal with the
pain. It’s not that bad.
The
transfer into my car is awful. The pain
is so bad that I almost start tearing up.
It takes me a few seconds just to breathe through it after I’m in the
car. Kirby is sitting next to me,
watching me. I know I’ve got to break
down my chair to throw it in the back, but I can’t make myself do it. At least, I need a minute.
Kirby
touches my shoulder—not the one that hurts. “John…”
“I’m
okay,” I manage.
She
seems to recognize that’s not actually the case. “What can I do to help?”
Well,
she already helped me roll over. May as
well go for broke. “Can you put my
wheelchair in the back seat?”
I
tell her what to do to break it down.
I’m worried she’s going to fuck it up and break it, but she’s careful
and does a good job. Once it’s in the
car, I relax a little bit. And the pain
has subsided enough that I can drive Kirby home.
“What
do you think you’re doing?” she asks me as I start driving in the direction of
her house.
“Driving
you home?”
“Yeah? And how are you going to get your chair back
out of the car?”
She’s
got a point.
“Let’s
go to your place,” she says. “I’ll help
you out, then I’ll grab a taxi home.”
“I’ll
pay for it,” I say weakly.
Kirby
just shrugs. I wish she’d let me do something for her tonight. I couldn’t possibly feel more emasculated
than I do right now.
I
have to admit, it really helps to have her get my chair out of the back. I manage the transfer on my own, all the
while praying that the pain will be improved by tomorrow. Kirby follows me into the elevator, then up
to my apartment. Once we’re safely inside, I hand her my cell phone.
“I’m
good now,” I say. “You can call a cab.”
She
raises her eyebrows at me. “Are you
sure?”
I
hesitate, thinking about my entire nighttime routine and having to go through
it with my shoulder hurting this much. Then
again, what is Kirby supposed to do? Is
she going to help me with my bowel program?
Is she going to detach my leg bag and replace it with the larger bag
that I hang off the side of the bed during the night? And she’s sure as hell not going to help me
get undressed. In my dreams, right?
Goddamn
it. This sucks. One idiot topples me out of my chair and my
whole life is fucked up for God knows how long.
Maybe forever.
“I
don’t mind staying,” she says. She plops
down on my sofa. “Hell, I can stay the
night if you don’t mind. You’ve got a
really comfy sofa.”
I
wheel over to the sofa and it hurts like hell, but not as much as transferring
back into bed will hurt. But I’ve been in pain of one kind or another pretty
much since the day I got injured, so what’s a little more?
“John,”
she says quietly. “Are you… okay? You look like you’re in agony.”
I
shrug. And even that fucking hurts. “I’m
fine.”
Kirby
reaches out and her fingers just graze my shoulder. I flinch, anticipating pain from her touch,
but she doesn’t end up touching me there.
Her fingers rest on my jaw, where a five o’clock shadow has sprouted in
the last few hours. I may be half-Asian,
but I grow a beard like a white guy.
“John…”
she says again.
“I’m
fine,” I say, although my voice wavers.
That’s not because of pain though.
It’s because Kirby’s touching my face.
And because she’s leaning forward on the couch so that her own face is
less than a foot away from mine.
I’m
within kissing distance. All I’d have to
do is lean forward and my lips would be on hers before she’d think to pull
away. The last time I was within kissing
distance with a girl I liked, I didn’t go for it, and that was probably a good
thing, because in retrospect, I would have gotten slapped. I’d probably get slapped if I tried to kiss
her now. After all, Kirby doesn’t want
me kissing her. She’s gorgeous, she’s
engaged to my friend, and I’m a fucking quadriplegic. She definitely doesn’t want me kissing her.
But
then I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s
the scent of bubble gum cupcake that clings to her skin, or the way her lips
curve into the tiniest of smiles, or the fact that her tits are just… well,
great tits is all I’m saying. I don’t
know if it’s one of those things or if it’s something completely
different. Something I can’t put my
finger on. Something that I noticed the
first time I saw her eying that apple
tart at Barnes and Noble and fell instantly in love.
But
anyway, I kiss her.
For
the first minute, all I can think about is how goddamn soft her lips are. They’re so soft that I feel like I could kiss
her for hours, maybe for several years, and not even notice that a minute had
passed. She’s so fucking soft.
And
after I get over the wonder of how soft she is and how amazing it is that I’m
kissing her, it occurs to me that she isn’t pulling away. She is, in fact, kissing me back.
Kirby
is kissing me back.
I
think maybe that asshole mugger killed me and I’ve gone to heaven.
Kirby
John
is kissing me.
If
someone told me a few hours ago that this how my night would end up, I wouldn’t
have believed it. I mean, yes, I like
John. I find him attractive. But I’m engaged. And the idea that he’d just lean forward and
kiss me like this when I’m engaged to his best friend is pretty insane.
Yet
it’s happening.
And
oh my, it’s a nice kiss. John acts like
he’s a pariah when it comes to women, but you don’t get to be this good at
kissing without a little practice. Or
maybe it’s us. Maybe we jut having the
right chemistry. Maybe it’s because both
of us have wanted this for so long.
I
move from the couch onto John’s lap and things get a little more hot and
heavy. He can’t move his hands, but he’s
using his forearms to press me against him, and my fingers are all up in his
thick, dark hair. I can’t get enough of
kissing this man. I never want to
stop. Ever.
“Stop,”
John gasps, his lips pulling away from mine.
At
first, I feel like I must be imagining things.
Why is he telling me to stop?
This is the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life. And I have to believe it’s pretty damn good
for him too.
“Ted…”
he manages.
Oh,
right. Ted.
I
look at him for a moment, at the slight slant of his almond eyes. Everyone has been telling me for months that
I rushed into things with Ted, that he might not be the right guy for me. I
brushed everyone off, never believing it could be true. Until now.
“I
can’t do this to Ted,” he says, more firmly this time.
And
that’s when I realize that he’s right.
Ted is coming her in a few days to interview for a job so that he can be
closer to me. How could I cheat on him
with his best friend? What kind of bitch
does something like that? I feel my
cheeks turning pink, wondering what he must think of me. I scramble off his
lap, getting up on my feet.
“You’re
right,” I say.
“Yeah.”
He lowers his eyes. “This was… a
mistake.”
“Right.”
I nod, even though it pains me. “It was
a mistake.”
“Glad
we’re in agreement.”
“Total agreement.” I nod again. “Huge mistake.”
John
gives me a wounded look, and then I think maybe I went a little too far. Especially since I’m not sure it was a
mistake at all. It was the best kiss of
my life—how could that be a mistake?
“You
should probably call a taxi now,” John says in a clipped tone that makes me
think I probably did go a little too far.
“It’s late.”
“Right,”
I agree.
I
call a taxi using his phone, and we spend the remaining ten minutes together
basically avoiding talking to each other.
And for the entire taxi ride home, I think about what John’s lips felt
like on mine.
To be continued...?
Why is there a question mark after "To be continued...?"?!?!?!?
ReplyDeleteLove this story. I just hope you find inspiration soon and finish the story. Thank you for posting. Hope to continue with John and Kirby soon!!
ReplyDeleteWhoa! Is this where you stopped? I gotta know what happens next!
ReplyDeleteTc
It's cruel to stop at this point! Please bring yourself to continue, it's such an amazing story! I am sure the feeling returns while writing...
ReplyDeleteIt is such a great story, especially because it is one of the few about a quad.
ReplyDeleteTake a well earned break from the story and hopefully you find new inspistion while it is in hibernation. But please don't abandon Kirby and John. They deserve a happy ending!
I agree. This story is the highlight of my week-- I love the angst and am hopeful for a happy ending :)
ReplyDeleteI know whatever I offer can never be as good as what you dream up, but I was thinking:
Since we all want Kirby to get with John, maybe you could show a bit more of Ted's more asshole-like/bratty/rude side? This could be him being just a terrible friend to John or maybe Kirby finds out he's marrying her for all sorts of unwanted reasons. Maybe put Kirby and John in some scenario where John has a bit more power (could be just that he speaks a language she does not) and Kirby is surprised? Maybe show Kirby and John's connection in a more dramatic way than cupcakes and movies (though that is so sweet! Gah! <3), highlighting how Kirby has changed? Just please please please continue this...I know you said from the beginning that you were struggling with it but I think that struggle has made it all the better! I love angst along the way but I like endings more than angst and so I really hope you finish this!
Oh this is so damn good. Love, love this story. Super good chapter. All the vulnerability of the mugging and aftermath. The kiss. Wowzer
ReplyDeletePlease don't take John away from me,yet. I hope you will continue your story. It's a really good one.
ReplyDeleteJohn needs to heal. Kirby needs to fix her heart. You need to do whatever you need to do -- but, we all hope you will be inspired to finish this amazing story.
ReplyDeleteI can totatally understand your need to take a break, because when author dont feels right about his story it is always right decision....but Annabelle, please keep in your mind, there is lot of us we love this story so so MUCH, we check this site every sunday like 6444778x every sunday, because we love K+J so damn much....so yeah, please continue, if you find the right reason to continue :)
ReplyDeleteThankyouThankyouThankyou Annabelle for this amazing story. I think maybe your struggle with this story has made it all the better...
ReplyDeleteThank you to everyone for the encouraging words! I'm still not feeling this story but I've been hard at work on some new projects, including a sequel to The Ugly Duckling (i.e. The Best Friend). So even if I don't have more of this story yet next week, I promise I'll have an Annabelle treat for you guys on Sunday.
ReplyDelete