This is close to all I've written of Mr. Trouble (there's maybe enough for one or two more chapters), and since I'm not feeling overwhelming enthusiasm lately, I think I'm going to stop there. I've been sort of feeling blah lately, maybe it's SAD, but I might just take a month off from posting. In any case, for those who are following, here is:
Chapter 3
Entire story
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Caoimhe's Hands - Chapter 1
Foreword:
This is kind of an experiment for me, writing about old times and places. I did some research and since I'm always fascinated with the "olden" times, here is a little something different. I have a few chapters written out on this story in the making...and I want to explain just a few things in translation. I also was not sure if I should use old forms of spelling such as "Thee", "Me", "Thy" but thought that would possibly be too difficult to pull off, so keeping it somewhat modern.
Maighdan na Haille - Maiden of the cliffs
Caoimhe - spelled "Kee-va"
Siobhan - spelled "Shiv-awn"
This story is about a healer named Caoimhe in ancient Ireland, (11-12th century) and how she meets Aidan who has become very ill after a fall from a roof...I won't give away more, but maybe you can imagine...
Let me know if this stirs your curiosity for more of Caoimhe and Aidan.
Chapter 1
The meadows were only slowly turning green. The dead brown grass longed to be laid to rest as spring flowers were waiting right underneath the grounds surface, anticipating to show their buds and eventually their beautiful faces.
The land was covered in thick fog, carrying in from the ocean. Spring seemed still in a distant future, never to return but nature was in charge and she would eventually permit spring to come back.
It was only March after all. Evening was about to push itself over the land.
Caoimhe had the fire going in the cottage and was just adding another piece of dry wood. She then took the spoon and bowl to the water pail in the corner and rinsed off the residue of the broth she had drank for her evening meal. A few crumbs of bread were scattered over the table and she picked them up with her finger tips and put them into her mouth. She was going to have to bake bread soon as her supply had been diminishing over the past few days.
This is kind of an experiment for me, writing about old times and places. I did some research and since I'm always fascinated with the "olden" times, here is a little something different. I have a few chapters written out on this story in the making...and I want to explain just a few things in translation. I also was not sure if I should use old forms of spelling such as "Thee", "Me", "Thy" but thought that would possibly be too difficult to pull off, so keeping it somewhat modern.
Maighdan na Haille - Maiden of the cliffs
Caoimhe - spelled "Kee-va"
Siobhan - spelled "Shiv-awn"
This story is about a healer named Caoimhe in ancient Ireland, (11-12th century) and how she meets Aidan who has become very ill after a fall from a roof...I won't give away more, but maybe you can imagine...
Let me know if this stirs your curiosity for more of Caoimhe and Aidan.
Chapter 1
Wild waves from the Atlantic were crashing
against the cliffs. Strong winds blowing in from the ocean were howling around
the cottage on the hill. It was the beginning of spring but with all its might,
winter was still battling spring with strong gusts and cold temperatures.
The meadows were only slowly turning green. The dead brown grass longed to be laid to rest as spring flowers were waiting right underneath the grounds surface, anticipating to show their buds and eventually their beautiful faces.
The land was covered in thick fog, carrying in from the ocean. Spring seemed still in a distant future, never to return but nature was in charge and she would eventually permit spring to come back.
It was only March after all. Evening was about to push itself over the land.
Caoimhe had the fire going in the cottage and was just adding another piece of dry wood. She then took the spoon and bowl to the water pail in the corner and rinsed off the residue of the broth she had drank for her evening meal. A few crumbs of bread were scattered over the table and she picked them up with her finger tips and put them into her mouth. She was going to have to bake bread soon as her supply had been diminishing over the past few days.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Update to The Consolation Prize
Hi guys—
Hope everyone's weeks are good. I think that ya'll are really going to like this chapter—I know I certainly liked writing it. We get to see a little bit from Pete then end with some Scottie and Will 1:1. Can't wait to hear your thoughts!
Chapter 17
Table of Contents
Hope everyone's weeks are good. I think that ya'll are really going to like this chapter—I know I certainly liked writing it. We get to see a little bit from Pete then end with some Scottie and Will 1:1. Can't wait to hear your thoughts!
Chapter 17
Table of Contents
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Update to Mr. Trouble
Thanks to everyone for the encouraging comments last week! I've got a few more chapters written, so at the very least, I'll post those. For those of you who read last week, you realize this is a different kind of story for me, in that both of the main characters have disabilities.
Chapter 2
And for those of you who didn't read last week, Chapter 1 is here.
Chapter 2
And for those of you who didn't read last week, Chapter 1 is here.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Update to the Consolation Prize
Hi everyone—
Hope ya'll are having a good week. In Chapter 16 we get to see the aftermath of last week's chapter and we get some more 1:1 time between Will and his dad (who I know ya'll love).
I think you'll enjoy :) Excited to hear your thoughts—please comment! I love hearing from you guys.
Chapter 16
Table of Contents
Hope ya'll are having a good week. In Chapter 16 we get to see the aftermath of last week's chapter and we get some more 1:1 time between Will and his dad (who I know ya'll love).
I think you'll enjoy :) Excited to hear your thoughts—please comment! I love hearing from you guys.
Chapter 16
Table of Contents
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Devo Diary is back!
Hi everyone, I'm finally back from my extended hiatus. Sorry about that! I have several more chapters ready to go. I'll be posting every other week on Wednesdays.
Devo Diary Chapter 45: William, coda
I know it's been a long time, and by now there are a ton of names to keep track of. Here's a quick recap: At this point, it's 2004 and I've just returned from my 6 month stay in Taipei, where I experimented unsuccessfully with being a lesbian and checking out the local BDSM scene. Now I'm back in the US, trying to finish up my graduate degree, and still singing in a semi-professional opera company.
Here are the main people who show up in this chapter:
K: the blind guy I dated in college, who broke my heart. After years of no contact, I suddenly stumbled across him online and re-initiated contact, only to discover he's living not far from me. We promised to met in person when I returned to the US.
The Mantis: paraplegic guy I met at a BDSM club. We had a Mistress/slave relationship for six months before I left, in secret because he was cheating on his wife. While I was away, they amicably divorced and he's now living openly in the scene, with a new girlfriend named Titania.
William: the dashing, handsome bass in the opera, who I dated briefly before leaving town. I'm still in love with him, even though we're not dating.
Sarah: my best friend from grad school, with the curly red hair and sullen disposition.
Ariel: another friend from the opera, in charge of wigs.
Lulu: my best friend in the opera company. She's also into BDSM in a big way, and we've gone to many events together.
Marty: in the men's chorus, also the head of the local BDSM social club. Lulu's ex-boyfriend.
Suzanna: the lead soprano in the opera company, but friendly with all the women in the chorus.
Kara and Nam: a married couple, my two best friends from college, living in the Midwest.
Here is the Table of Contents, if you want to read from the beginning.
Devo Diary Chapter 45: William, coda
I know it's been a long time, and by now there are a ton of names to keep track of. Here's a quick recap: At this point, it's 2004 and I've just returned from my 6 month stay in Taipei, where I experimented unsuccessfully with being a lesbian and checking out the local BDSM scene. Now I'm back in the US, trying to finish up my graduate degree, and still singing in a semi-professional opera company.
Here are the main people who show up in this chapter:
K: the blind guy I dated in college, who broke my heart. After years of no contact, I suddenly stumbled across him online and re-initiated contact, only to discover he's living not far from me. We promised to met in person when I returned to the US.
The Mantis: paraplegic guy I met at a BDSM club. We had a Mistress/slave relationship for six months before I left, in secret because he was cheating on his wife. While I was away, they amicably divorced and he's now living openly in the scene, with a new girlfriend named Titania.
William: the dashing, handsome bass in the opera, who I dated briefly before leaving town. I'm still in love with him, even though we're not dating.
Sarah: my best friend from grad school, with the curly red hair and sullen disposition.
Ariel: another friend from the opera, in charge of wigs.
Lulu: my best friend in the opera company. She's also into BDSM in a big way, and we've gone to many events together.
Marty: in the men's chorus, also the head of the local BDSM social club. Lulu's ex-boyfriend.
Suzanna: the lead soprano in the opera company, but friendly with all the women in the chorus.
Kara and Nam: a married couple, my two best friends from college, living in the Midwest.
Here is the Table of Contents, if you want to read from the beginning.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
New Story: Mr. Trouble
So this is a story I started during the summer, and every time I got really motivated to work on it, I got pulled away by life stuff. And eventually, I realized I'd completely lost my motivation. I was TRYING to write it and it was just so hard, and honestly, I can never tell what you guys are going to like till I post it here. So I didn't finish it, but I figured I would put it out there and see if it's worth continuing.
All right, now that I've babbled on for a full paragraph, here is....
Mr. Trouble
Maddie
All right, now that I've babbled on for a full paragraph, here is....
Mr. Trouble
Maddie
Trouble. This boy was trouble.
T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Update to the Consolation Prize
Hi everyone!
I hope ya'll are having a good week. In this chapter we spend a little more time with Will's family and see them out in a public setting.
Hope you guys enjoy—excited to hear your thoughts.
Chapter 15
Table of Contents
I hope ya'll are having a good week. In this chapter we spend a little more time with Will's family and see them out in a public setting.
Hope you guys enjoy—excited to hear your thoughts.
Chapter 15
Table of Contents
Monday, September 10, 2018
NEW RELEASE: Love Bites
As I mentioned in my post yesterday, my book Love Bites is currently live on Amazon!
It's only $2.99 on the Kindle, and FREE if you have Kindle Unlimited! Here is the blurb:
Is it possible my sweet, handsome, charming boyfriend could be a vampire?
I know, I know, vampires aren’t real, except in fiction and folklore, but hear me out. I’ve got some convincing evidence…
Let’s start with the obvious. His name is Hunter. HUNTER. That’s a vampire name if you’ve ever heard one, right? And his white, sharp teeth are clearly capable of piercing the thickest of skin.
Then there’s his pale complexion. We’re talking get-this-guy-to-a-tanning-booth-ASAP pale.
And he has a weird tendency to compliment my “intoxicating scent,” especially when I get home from work. Did I mention I’m a phlebotomist?
Most concerning, I’m starting to suspect he killed and drank the blood of one of my closest friends.
My neighbor Jamie warned me to stay away from him or risk becoming his next victim. But Jamie may have his own ulterior motives.
Anyway, I’m taking my chances. What’s the worst that could happen?
Buy it now on Amazon! And please be sure to let me know what you think when you finish!
Thank you!!!!!
P.S. A big thanks to Avery Kingston for the above graphic :)
It's only $2.99 on the Kindle, and FREE if you have Kindle Unlimited! Here is the blurb:
Is it possible my sweet, handsome, charming boyfriend could be a vampire?
I know, I know, vampires aren’t real, except in fiction and folklore, but hear me out. I’ve got some convincing evidence…
Let’s start with the obvious. His name is Hunter. HUNTER. That’s a vampire name if you’ve ever heard one, right? And his white, sharp teeth are clearly capable of piercing the thickest of skin.
Then there’s his pale complexion. We’re talking get-this-guy-to-a-tanning-booth-ASAP pale.
And he has a weird tendency to compliment my “intoxicating scent,” especially when I get home from work. Did I mention I’m a phlebotomist?
Most concerning, I’m starting to suspect he killed and drank the blood of one of my closest friends.
My neighbor Jamie warned me to stay away from him or risk becoming his next victim. But Jamie may have his own ulterior motives.
Anyway, I’m taking my chances. What’s the worst that could happen?
Buy it now on Amazon! And please be sure to let me know what you think when you finish!
Thank you!!!!!
P.S. A big thanks to Avery Kingston for the above graphic :)
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Final update to Love Bites
In this final extra-long chapter, Hunter finally gets introduced to Brooke's friends. And it doesn't go quite as planned....
Chapter 9
Table of Contents
Chapter 9
Table of Contents
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Update to The Consolation Prize
Hi everyone—
Happy Thursday!
This week we'll explore Will's family life a bit more and we get a glimpse into Scottie and Will in the very beginning of their relationship. Plus, they both have a breakthrough that I think ya'll will like.
Hope you enjoy and really look forward to reading your comments!
Chapter 14
Table of Contents
Happy Thursday!
This week we'll explore Will's family life a bit more and we get a glimpse into Scottie and Will in the very beginning of their relationship. Plus, they both have a breakthrough that I think ya'll will like.
Hope you enjoy and really look forward to reading your comments!
Chapter 14
Table of Contents
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Free Novella
I hope it's okay to post this, but since some people have expressed a lot of eagerness in reading my books for free, I just wanted to let everyone know that my novella Santa Crush will be free on Amazon from today until 9/6. And after that, I'm removing it from Kindle Unlimited, so this will be the last chance for it to be free on Amazon. So please download a copy while it's available!
Sunday, September 2, 2018
Update to Love Bites
OK, the release of Love Bites is coming up very soon. Please enjoy another chapter in which Brooke learns a little more about the hair she found in Hunter's apartment:
Chapter 8
Table of Contents
And for those of you reading the story that takes place in 1907, here is:
Tom Blake, Part 4
Chapter 8
Table of Contents
And for those of you reading the story that takes place in 1907, here is:
Tom Blake, Part 4
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Mr. Trouble, Chapter 2
Maddie
For the first time in my life, I’m
living with a boy.
Well, I suppose it might be more
appropriate to refer to him as a man, since he’s thirty-five years old. Anything over eighteen is technically a man,
and definitely when you’re over thirty, there’s little debate. Other man-like qualities Tyler Hendricks
possesses include: facial hair that can be grown out to beard length if
required; a deep, masculine voice; a hairy chest; and man-sized genitalia. He is definitely an adult male. No question about that.
Which makes sense, since I am an
adult woman. We are two adults in a
totally normal, healthy adult relationship.
For the most part.
Tyler is cooking dinner when I come
into our apartment. Or he was, before he
dashed across the foyer to open the door for me while my key was still in the
lock. This is his new thing, which is
some combination of sweet and irritating.
Granted, it does take me longer than most people to unlock a door.
“I told you, Maddie,” he says as he
holds the open door to allow me to wheel inside. “Just text me when you’re in the elevator and
I’ll have the door open for you.”
“And I told you,” I say patiently, “that I’ve been unlocking doors for myself
for my entire life. I can handle
it. Honestly.”
“But why should you have to?”
Like I said—sweet and
irritating. But I’m not going to start a
fight. Not tonight. He means well.
He’s never dated a woman in a wheelchair before and definitely never
lived with one. He’ll learn.
As I wheel into the apartment, a
delicious aroma enters my nostrils.
Tyler is one hell of a cook. It
would be easy enough to grab some takeout from downstairs or else pop a TV
dinner in the microwave like I used to do pre-Tyler, but he loves to cook. So I’m not going to stop him. Well, if he were bad at it, I would. But fortunately, he’s not.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“Teppenyaki.”
Last week, Tyler and I went to a teppenyaki
restaurant. He’d never been to one
before, and he got such a kick out of it when they tossed a piece of zucchini
into his mouth across the table. Even though he’s technically a man, there’s
something very youthful about Tyler sometimes.
Maybe that’s what I like about him.
“So are you going to cook the food
in front of me?” I ask.
“No.
How could I?”
This is a fair point. Much to my aggravation, my wheelchair barely
fits in the kitchen of our shared apartment.
I can make it inside just enough to reach the fridge, but it’s a
C-shaped kitchen and I can’t get to the stove, or really, half the
kitchen. Our microwave is outside the
kitchen, so for the most part, it’s fine.
My old apartment had plenty of room in the kitchen for me to spin
360-degrees, but Tyler was the one with the two-bedroom apartment and also with
nine months left on his lease. So we’re
here. For now.
“So what makes it teppenyaki then?”
I ask.
“Well, it’s fried rice and
vegetables with shrimp in teriyaki sauce.”
“That doesn’t make it teppenyaki. That just makes it Japanese food.”
Tyler lets out an angry huff. “What are you—the hibachi police?”
I laugh. “Okay, fine.
I can’t wait to taste your teppenyaki.”
He winks at me. “Oh, I’ll give you a taste of my teppenyaki
all right.”
Whatever that means. I think he’s alluding to his ejaculate.
My phone starts buzzing so I leave
Tyler to his hibachi cooking. (Although
seriously, that’s not teppenyaki. I
think teppenyaki actually refers to the griddle it’s cooked on, but no matter
what, fried rice cooked in a pan on our stove is not teppenyaki.) When I fish my phone out of my purse, I see
Liam Murphy’s name on the screen.
I smile, like I always do when my
best friend calls me. And even though I
hate myself a little bit for doing it, I go to the living room to talk, to a
place where Tyler won’t hear.
“Hey, Maddie.” Liam’s voice comes
through the phone, several notches lower and more serious than it usually is. Liam is rarely serious, so this worries me
something is wrong. “What are you up to?”
“Tyler’s making dinner.”
“Tyler,” he repeats. I wish he wouldn’t say my boyfriend’s name
like that. Like it’s something
distasteful to him.
Liam and Tyler don’t like each
other. No, that’s an understatement. They hate
each other. They don’t even pretend for
my sake. They’re willing to be in the
same room together and even form a foursome for dinner with whatever girl Liam
is dating, but it’s clear they’re never going to be “bros” or BFFs” or whatever
the current lingo is.
“Listen,” he says in that low voice,
“I need to talk to you. I need… your
advice. Do you think you could get away
tonight?”
“I really can’t. Tyler’s working hard on making dinner.”
And it smells great, even though
it’s not teppenyaki. If I tell my
boyfriend I’m blowing off dinner with him to see Liam, it won’t be good. At all.
“Maddie…”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into the
phone. “I really can’t now.”
“Shit…” he breathes.
“How about tomorrow?”
He sighs. “Okay, fine.
Tomorrow at six. You know where.”
I do know where.
After we hang up, I wheel out to the
kitchen, where Tyler is finishing up with the teppenyaki (but not really). He puts the rice and vegetables on two plates,
then follows it with the giant shrimp.
He looks down at the plates for a moment, then picks up a knife and
starts cutting up the shrimp on the plate that’s presumably mine. He’s not just cutting the tail off
either—he’s mincing it into tiny pieces.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He grins at me. “Almost done.”
“I don’t need you to cut up my
shrimp for me.”
“It’s no problem.”
I grit my teeth, but don’t point out
that I’ve been living with cerebral palsy for thirty-two years and am perfectly
capable of eating shrimp without having it cut up for me like a toddler. We’ve only been living together two months. It’s normal for there to be growing
pains. Besides, I don’t want to piss him
off when I’ve got to tell him I’m seeing Liam tomorrow.
Tyler brings the food out to the
dining table, a proud smile on his face.
He loves recreating food we’ve had in restaurants. And he’s actually very good at it. I’m lucky.
Tyler is a great guy in so many ways.
I haven’t had many boyfriends in my life, and the others have all had
their issues or else had difficulty dealing with my disability long term. Three years ago, I would have bet the farm
I’d never end up living with a man.
But Tyler is wonderful, and he’s
made it clear he’s in it for the long term.
After all, you don’t move in with someone you’re not serious about. A lot of his friends have gotten engaged
recently, and he’s been hinting at it a bit.
Tyler could be the one. In fact,
it’s very likely he is. This could be
it. He could be it.
Tyler watches me take a bite of the
food, his brown eyes intent on my face.
“So?”
“It’s great.”
His face lights up. “As good as the teppenyaki place?”
“Better.”
White lies never hurt anyone.
“By the way,” Tyler says as he digs
into his own food. “I told Nina and
Claude we want to get together on Saturday night. To celebrate their engagement.”
“Oh, great!” Nina and Claude are our couple friends. Claude works at Tyler’s start-up and they
were friends first, then we got friendly as couples. Well, I can’t say Nina and I are BFFs or
anything, but we all hang out together at least a couple of times a month. And their engagement has ramped up the relationship
pressure on the two of us. “Weren’t they
going to have an engagement party?”
Tyler chews on the shrimp
loudly. “Yeah, it was last weekend. But it was at Claude’s apartment and he’s got
all those stairs, you know?”
I wince. The thing is, I’m used to missing out on
things because of stairs. Liam and I
have spent hours upon hours griping about all the freaking stairs in the world. But stairs serving as an impenetrable barrier
is a new thing to Tyler. I hate to think
of him missing out on things because of me.
I’d really hate for him to start
thinking about all he’s missing out on by having a girlfriend in a wheelchair.
“You could have gone without me,” I
say as I push the tiny chunks of shrimp around my plate. Why did he cut them so small? Does he think I don’t
know how to chew?
Tyler’s eyes widen. “Without you?”
“Sure. That would be okay.”
“Maddie.” He frowns.
“I would never do that. If you
can’t go, I’m not going. I wouldn’t even
consider it. End of story.”
He is really, really sweet. I’m very lucky.
Liam
If I weren’t planning to end things
with Erin, I’d be trying to convince her to move. Her building—her goddamn building—it’s the
worst.
The building is technically
wheelchair-accessible. It has to
be—that’s the law. That said, you
couldn’t ask for a more annoying entrance to the building for a guy who can’t
get up a bunch of stairs on his own steam.
It’s insulting. I feel like her
building is giving me the finger every time I visit her.
There’s a ramp to get inside, so
that’s fine. But once you’re inside,
there are four more steps to get to the elevator. But instead of doing something reasonable
like attempting to put in another ramp, they instead installed a mini
lift. Like the kind in the wheelchair
van I used to have or a city bus.
I can deal with it if it’s in my own
van, but I hate it on buses and I hate it here.
I have to wheel onto it, wait for the goddamn doorman to come over and
he has to operate it for me. If he’s
busy, it could take five minutes easy to get up those four stairs. It’s almost enough to motivate me to get on
my feet again.
If there were a railing, I might
attempt to bump myself up the stairs, even though it kills my shoulders. But there’s no railing, so getting up the
stairs would involve some sort of defiance of the laws of gravity. But on the way out, I always bump myself down
the stairs, even though without any railing to hold onto, it’s fucking scary. I fell once.
But still, it’s worth it not to have to take the lift.
This is one of those times when I
wonder about the other half. What’s it
like to not have to deal with this shit? To be able to get into any building I
want without having to stress about a few stairs. To not have to call ahead places to ask about
accessibility or make special arrangements.
Listen, I’m in a wheelchair, so…
is there an elevator? Then the uncomfortable fumbling as they try to figure
it out. It’s exhausting.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to
not have to worry about that. It must be
nice.
Anyway, this is one of the last times
I’ll be on this goddamn lift. I need to
end it with Erin ASAP. I wanted to get
Maddie’s advice. Or if not advice, I
wanted to see her and know I’m doing the right thing. But I can’t wait. I know how to break up with girls. It’s
not you—it’s me. Let’s stay friends. You get the idea.
When I get up to Erin’s apartment,
she’s dressed to the nines in a clingy black thing. Her blond hair is in an elaborate twist which
looks like you’d need a graduate degree to unfurl. I’m not gonna lie—Erin’s really hot. When we’re out together, people give us funny
looks, trying to figure it out. After we
have dinner here, we’re going to a party tonight at the house of a friend of
hers, and I guarantee at least one guy will try to hit on Erin right in front
of me. I’d bet the price of a new desk
for Father O’Brien.
“Liam.” She beams at me when she sees me at her door. “Come in.”
She won’t kiss me in the
hallway. Because… I don’t know. She wants people to think she’s a kiss virgin
too?
Once I’m inside, she kisses me
though. Big time. She’s all over me,
actually, which… well, usually it’s great.
But not today. Today I’m breaking
up with her, so I feel like a makeout session isn’t a great idea. But as sits in my lap and kisses my neck and
runs her hand over my chest, it’s hard to push her away. Most of our evenings together conclude with
us in bed, which says a lot, considering she was a virgin before me.
As I said before, my success rate
with women is really good, which surprises people because it’s obvious from
looking at me that I’m not able to do any acrobatics in the bedroom. On top of that, the sensation in my lower
body is impaired thanks to my damaged spinal cord. I have maybe half of normal below my waist
(and my lower legs not at all). It means
actual intercourse involves medication and a lot of coaxing and sometimes
prayer. (Good thing I got practice during all those years of Sunday School.)
But actually, that works in my
favor. I’m not as focused as most guys
on sticking my dick in a girl, which means I can do other things she might like
better. I don’t want to brag but I am
really, really good at oral sex. I might
even throw another “really” in there.
I’m really, really, really good at it.
I’m the fucking Coby Bryant of cunilingus. Part of it is that I love doing it. I love teasing the girl, making her squirm
and eventually scream—there’s nothing sexier.
I go really, really slow, so even someone like Erin, who had her
reservations about doing anything sexual, let me do everything I wanted to
do. And then by the time we moved on to
actual intercourse, we were already so hot and heavy, it seemed like no big
deal.
“You look handsome tonight,” Erin
breathes in my ear.
I pull away from her, resisting the
urge to push her out of my lap. “For a change?”
She laughs. “A rare treat.”
She seems to get the message that
I’m not in the mood to fool around so she climbs off my lap. I run my wheels over her welcome mat a couple
of times, trying to get the crud off my wheels—yet another thing I hate about
coming to Erin’s place is her wall-to-wall carpeting. She always walks around barefoot, but that
won’t help me out much. I can’t get out
of my chair and crawl.
“Smells good,” I say. Erin cooked for me. I get a pang—I can’t dump her when she’s gone
through the trouble of making me a home-cooked meal, can I? “What did you
make?”
“Lasagna.”
“Wow.”
Lasagna is a serious meal. I could break up with her after, say,
spaghetti, but not lasagna. I bet it’s
delicious too. Erin’s a great cook. She’s the whole package.
I must be out of my mind.
She lets out a yawn as she heads
into the kitchen to check on the lasagna.
I watch her ass fill out her skintight jeans as she bends down to peer
into the oven. “Maybe ten more minutes.”
“Awesome. How was your day?”
She straightens up and pats her
elaborate blond knot. “Rewarding.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I went to the homeless shelter and
spent the whole afternoon serving lunch and sorting canned goods.” She lets out a tired sigh. “It was so
rewarding.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You should come with me next time,
Liam.”
“I should.”
Erin is so good. She works hard all week as a teacher, then
she spends her free time volunteering. I
work hard all week, and I spend my free time watching TV or surfing the
web. If there’s a heaven, I’m sure
she’ll go there. I don’t know want to
think about where I’ll go. But I’d like
to think I’ll be okay.
“Tire tracks,” she points out, her
finger indicating two light gray lines I made on her carpet.
Shit. I’m breaking up with her and I screwed up her
carpet. I really am going to hell. But to be fair, her carpet is insanely white.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
I go back to the welcome mat and
work on getting the dirt from my wheels although it’s a lost cause. Erin gets out her vacuum to clean up my
tracks before they set in. Every time. I
hate coming here.
“So how was confession yesterday?”
she asks. “Wasn’t Father O’Brien the
best?”
“Yep.”
Yep, he’s the best. And P.S., he convinced me to dump you.
She smiles as she stuffs the vacuum
back in her closet. “Wasn’t it
cleansing?”
“Cleansing?” I repeat. I don’t know what to say to that. “Sure.
I guess.”
Her light brown eyebrows
furrow. “I do worry about your soul
sometimes, Liam.”
She’s worried about my soul?
“What does that mean?”
She gestures down at my legs. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I look down at my legs, trying to
figure out what the hell she’s talking about.
I’m wearing my good pants—expensive and light gray in color, although
baggy on my skinnyass legs. White dress
shirt that’s not unacceptably wrinkled. I’m
on my best behavior.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I
finally say.
“Every sin has a
consequence.” She blinks at me as she wipes her hands on her jeans. “If you don’t cleanse your soul, your body
will suffer for it.”
I frown at her,
trying to work this one out. I can’t. “You
know I have spina bifida, right? I
didn’t do this to myself from sinning. I didn’t get drunk and smash my car into a
tree. I was born this way.”
“Well,” she says,
“it wasn’t your sin.”
I narrow my
eyes. “So whose sin was it?”
She’s quiet, not
answering.
“Hang on.” I
stare at her. “Are you saying my mother did this to me? That my mother committed some awful sin and
because of that, she got punished?”
She shrugs. “It’s the obvious conclusion. Don’t you think so?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Holy shit, what’s wrong with this girl? I didn’t see this one coming at all. I’ve
been dating her six months—how did she manage to hide this crazy? Now I don’t
feel so bad about what I’ve got to do—you don’t diss a guy’s mom. “You’ve met my mother. You think she’s a sinner?”
“I think everyone
gets what they deserve.”
“So she’s a
terrible person and she got what she deserved—me.” I shake my head. “Is that about right?”
“Don’t get angry,
Liam.” She rests a hand on my shoulder,
but I shrug her off. “Maybe she simply…
didn’t have enough faith.”
“No, fuck
that.” My hands ball into fists. Not that I’m going to punch a wall or
anything, but it’s not out of the question.
“My mom prays every night. She
dragged me to church every Sunday—and believe me, that wasn’t easy. You can’t question her faith.”
“I’m just trying
to help you, Liam.” Her voice becomes gentle.
“Don’t you want to be normal like everyone else?”
I grit my teeth. If Maddie were here now, she’d get it. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s when people
use the word “normal” to refer to everyone else. Except everyone
does it. They don’t have any idea how
insulting it is. I’ve heard it a million
times.
You’d be
surprised how much it used to happen at church when I was a kid. Some old friend of my mom’s would come up to
us who hadn’t seen us in a long time, and the patronizing questions would
start:
“And this must be
your son, Liam,” the friend would say.
“He’s getting so big!”
My mother would
get that weary look on her face, because she knew what was coming too. “Yes…”
“What a handsome
young man,” they would always comment.
And then shake their head, like, gee, what a shame. “Where do you send him during the day?”
“He goes to the
local elementary school,” my mother would say.
The look of
surprise was always identical. “He goes
to a normal school? How does that work?”
What happened next depended on how I was
feeling that day. Sometimes I let my
mother handle it diplomatically, explaining I had no trouble following the
curriculum at a “normal” school. If I
wasn’t feeling so nice, I’d say loud enough for other people to turn and look,
“I’m not retarded.”
But that meant I’d go straight to
bed that night without dessert. Other
people might have gone easy on me, but my mother never did. She couldn’t.
I would have rolled all over her.
I still hear it all the time though. Normal this, normal that. I didn’t expect it from Erin.
“I’m sorry,” Erin says gently when
she sees the look on my face. “I didn’t
mean it like that. I just meant…”
“Yeah, what did you mean
exactly? I’d love to hear.”
“I just…” She sighs. “I love you.
I’m trying to help you.”
But
I don’t love you. And now I finally
know why.
“Look.” I grab my pushrims with both hands. “I don’t think this is working out,
Erin. I think… I’m going to go.”
Her blue eyes widen. “You mean… you don’t want to go to the
party?”
“No, I mean…” This is hard. Even though she accused my mother of being a
sinner, it’s hard. Erin is nice—I don’t
want to hurt her. “I don’t think we
should see each other anymore.”
Her mouth falls open. She’s shocked. It’s not like Erin hasn’t been dumped before,
because she has. But it’s always been
because she wouldn’t put out. I’m the
one guy she broke her rule for, and I’m still breaking up with her. I don’t feel good about it.
Sometimes I think I must be out of
my mind.
“You’re breaking up with me?” she
whispers.
I rub my eyes with the balls of my
hands. “I’m sorry, Erin.”
Like I said, I’ve broken up with my
fair share of women before. It’s never
fun or easy, but usually it goes mostly as expected. There are tears and hurt, or else they take
it fine and we agree to stay friends (but we obviously don’t). And that’s how it always goes down. Just like with most things, I get some amount
of leeway because I’m disabled.
So I don’t entirely expect the way
Erin’s face goes beet red and her eyes start to bulge out. And I definitely don’t expect her to pick up
a ladle from the kitchen counter and throw it at my head. It barely misses.
“What the hell?” I yelp. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“How could you be breaking up with
me?” she screams. “I let you fuck me!
I let you do everything! How could you break up with me?”
To be fair, she didn’t let me do everything. If I got my way, I would
have loved to… well, this probably isn’t the time be arguing semantics. I fucked her, and that’s something no other
guy got to do. She figured I’d be
worshipping her at her feet.
“It’s not about you,” I say
weakly. “It’s me.”
“You bet it’s you!” Now she picks up a pasta strainer and throws
it at me. This time I’m expecting it and
swerve out of the way. Good thing
because the strainer is made from metal.
That would have hurt. “You act like you’re nice, Liam Murphy. You smile at people like you’re so harmless,
but it’s all a goddamn act.” Wow, she’s
taking the name of God in vain. She must
really be out of her mind with anger. “You’re
a terrible person.”
Ouch.
“Get out!” she shrieks. “Get out of my apartment, you piece of shit!”
She picks up a bowl, preparing to
hurl it at me. She doesn’t have to tell
me again. I back up, tire prints and
all, and then I’m gone.
Holy shit.
Mr. Trouble, Chapter 3
Maddie
Liam’s still Trouble.
Those are my first thoughts when I
see Liam sitting at a table at Chelsea Clinton, our favorite bar in the
city. This bar has been here for fifty
years—before the birth of the eponymous daughter of Bill Clinton—located in the
intersection between two neighborhoods in Manhattan: Chelsea and Clinton. Chelsea is on the west side, going from about
14th street into the twenties, whereas Clinton (known less favorably
as Hell’s Kitchen) goes from 34th street up into the fifties. Therefore, Chelsea Clinton.
It’s Friday night, so not surprisingly,
Liam didn’t get a great table. He’s
sitting in the back, nursing a beer while he flirts with a waitress even though
he’s got a girlfriend who’s downright gorgeous.
I’ve yet to go to a restaurant with him where he doesn’t flirt with the
waitress—I think it’s automatic for him—but when we’re together, he never tries
to get their phone number. He has
fantastic success with getting phone numbers from waitresses in spite of being
in a wheelchair, at least partially because in the last twenty-seven years
since we met on the school bus, he’s gone from cute to sexy. The freckles are mostly gone unless you get
really close, but he still has that adorably tousled red-brown hair, now more
brown than red. He still has the impish
grin and that’s what does it for him.
When he smiles like that, he gets whatever he wants.
Well, except for a table at Chelsea
Clinton that doesn’t suck, apparently.
I wonder if he’s trying to get the
waitress’s number now—he often tries, even when he doesn’t even want it. The first time he ever successfully got a
number was when we were eighteen. He
called me up after, all excited.
“Maddie, I got her number!” he said.
“And I called it and she picked up! It was her real number!”
“So are you going out?” I asked him.
“No,” he said sheepishly. “I got nervous when she picked up, so I hung
up.”
Of course, that was a long time
ago. He’s been out with lots of
waitresses since then. He doesn’t get
nervous when he asks for numbers anymore.
I don’t know what makes Liam nervous these days. Probably nothing.
When Liam catches sight of me, he
stops talking to the waitress and waves maniacally. “Maddie!” he shouts over the sounds of Ke$ha on
the radio. “Over here!”
He is very excited to see me.
I repeat to myself that if Liam made
it to that table, I can too. My chair
has the same width as his. But then
again, he uses a manual chair, which has more maneuverability than mine. Still.
As Liam always says, “If I did it, so can you.”
It’s not easy, that’s for sure. There’s a point where I’m stuck and I have to
ask two people to get up and move their chairs, but just as the song comes to a
close, I’m at Liam’s table. I’m not sure
how I’ll make it out though. I’ll have
to sleep here.
“Maddie!” Liam’s face alights in
that grin I’ve come to love. “You made
it! I was worried Tyler was holding you
captive.”
I don’t know if he’s referring to
the fact that I made it to the bar or made it to the table. While Chelsea Clinton’s used to be a regular
thing for us, our meetings here have become more and more infrequent. But it’s not entirely Tyler’s fault. He’s got Erin.
Of course, while Tyler hates Liam,
Erin loves me. I’m not even
exaggerating. Every time we meet, Erin
finds something new about me to tell me she loves.
Maddie,
I love your haircut.
Maddie,
I love your necklace.
Maddie,
is that a new shade of lipstick? I love
it!
Liam always rolls his eyes at Erin’s
over the top professions of love. He
knows as well as I do when someone is being patronizing. You don’t spend your whole life in a
wheelchair without learning to recognize it.
But I forgive her. She’s not the
worst girl he’s dated.
“So,” I say, “what was so important
you had to talk to me right away?”
Liam considers my question. He traces a pattern in the condensation on
his beer. “It’s… complicated.”
“Something about work?”
He shakes his head. It’s hard to believe, but Liam is wildly
successful. That sounds mean, but he always
struggled in school. He never took his
classes seriously. He got away with it
more than some kids, but plenty of teachers lost patience with his laziness. In tenth grade, our English teacher called
him out while he was pretending to have read Hamlet but clearly hadn’t: “So is
your plan to just spend your life being supported by the government?”
“You have to admit,” Liam said with
a grin, “it’s a pretty good plan. I
think it would definitely work.”
He never meant it. Liam never wanted to be an invalid who had to
rely on welfare to get by. Luckily for
him, he developed an interest in computers early on and became obsessed with
them. He showed off for me that he could
take his home computer apart and put it back together. Even though my mother didn’t like Liam that
much, she was grateful that he came by to help when their PC was acting
up. (I’m convinced my dad was
downloading porn.)
And then Liam and his friend Jack
developed some software that is now used by a huge number of companies. Even my
company uses it. I’d never ask how much
money Liam made from his software, but I know it’s a lot.
I suspect that’s another reason
Tyler and Liam don’t get along. Because
Liam’s been more successful than Tyler in similar fields. With men, everything is a pissing contest.
“Work’s great,” he says. “No complaints.”
“So is it about Erin?”
He sucks in a breath, which I
suspect means the answer is yes. He
confided in me soon after he and Erin started dating that he discovered she was
still a virgin. He was shocked by that
one. I lost my virginity on the late
side, when I was twenty-four, but I was still younger than Erin. “Does it bother you?” I asked him.
“I’m not too worried.” He winked at me. “Give me two months.”
Two months later, I asked him if
Erin was still a virgin and he grinned like the cat who got the canary. The boy is persuasive. And the thing about Liam is they never see
him coming. Women think he’s harmless.
I didn’t see it coming either.
But that’s something I don’t think
about anymore. Not if I want to keep my
friendship with him.
Before Liam can fill me in on any
details about Erin, the waitress arrives to take our orders. It makes me realize how long it’s been since
I’ve been out at a restaurant without Tyler and been able to order a Sam Adams
without him giving me a disapproving look.
I’m going to order whatever I want tonight, even if it’s fried and
disgusting and fatty.
“So what’s going on with Erin?” I
ask. A thought occurs to me: “Are you
thinking about asking her to get married?”
He snorts. “Hardly.”
I don’t want to admit it, but his
answer fills me with relief. I don’t
want Liam to get married. I know
eventually he will, and I’ll deal with it then, but I’m not ready to lose him
to another woman. I know it sounds
silly, but we’ve never been apart for very long. We’ve always lived in the same town.
He looks up at me, as if considering
something. Then he looks down at his
hands, which are deeply calloused from all his years of wheeling. Mine, in contrast, are very soft. Operating a joystick control doesn’t cause
too much wear and tear.
“Actually,” he says, “I don’t really
want to talk about it anymore. If that’s
okay.”
I frown at him, but I don’t push
him. When he’s ready, he’ll talk to me.
He always does.
Somehow I never run out of things to
talk about with Liam. We spent a good
hour reminiscing, then I tell him about my promotion at work, to the lead
engineer on this radar project. Liam
tells me about how the principal at our old high school called to invite him to
talk to the kids about careers in computer science.
“I was like, maybe you don’t want me
to motivate your students,” he says, “after I almost got expelled at least
twice.”
I can think of at least a dozen
times when there was concern Liam wouldn’t be invited to come back to our
school. He couldn’t help himself—it was
one thing after another. I only saw it
for the first time when I was in fourth grade because even though Liam and I
attended the same elementary school, we were always separated because it would
be “too much” to have both of us in the same class. I’m not entirely sure what that meant—I was
easy. Liam was the one who was a
handful. But I guess they thought if
there were two disabled kids in one room, the place might explode?
When we were in fourth grade, the
hand of God stepped in and we ended up in the same class. I’d overheard our mother’s talking about
Liam’s issues at school, but it was something to see firsthand. Liam was always thinking up some new way to
disrupt the class. My personal favorite
was when he brought in a bottle of fake blood and drenched his pants with it,
then came back from recess moaning in pain.
Our seventy-year-old grouch of a teacher Mrs. Baker nearly spit out her
dentures. If she had been a nicer person,
I might have felt sorry for her. But she
was the kind of woman who I believe specifically became a teacher because she
hated children and wanted to torture them, so the class rallied around Liam’s
antics. And by the end of the school
year, she really hated Liam.
As one of his punishments, she
assigned him an oral presentation on Benjamin Franklin. On the day he was to give the presentation,
it was clear he was utterly unprepared.
(He had also confided in me that he thought the whole thing was stupid.) But when she called on him, he grabbed his
forearm crutches and dutifully headed to the front of the room.
He stood there for a minute, swaying
on his crutches. Over his childhood,
Mrs. Murphy was always trying to get Liam to walk more, something he also
deemed to be “stupid.” She believed it
was good for his bones and flexibility, but he hated the effort it took. (I secretly think his mother made him use
them just to wear him out and take some of the fight out of him.) The minute he
turned eighteen, he stuffed his crutches and braces in a closet and only uses
them when absolutely necessary.
“Hello, friends and classmates,”
Liam said to the room, clearly stalling for time. “I’d like to give a talk for you today about
a great man named Benjamin Franklin. Who
was Benjamin Franklin, you ask? Well, it
might be easier to tell you the things he was not. For example, he was not a president. He was not a chef. He was not a circus clown. He was not George Washington. He was not—”
“Liam, please stop this nonsense,”
Mrs. Baker interrupted him.
He blinked at her. “I’m just giving
my presentation, Mrs. Baker.”
“Liam, this is your last warning if
you don’t want to go to the principal’s office.”
Liam had made good friends with
everyone in the principal’s office that year, but it seemed like it was enough
to convince him to move on. “So now that
we’ve talked about everything Benjamin Franklin didn’t do, let’s talk about the
things that Benjamin Franklin did do. So
before Benjamin Franklin came along, it was always very dark at night. People couldn’t read or sew things or milk
cows or churn butter or whatever they used to do back then. So Benjamin Franklin thought this was a bad
thing. And that’s why he decided to
invent… the lightbulb!”
“Thomas Edison invented the
lightbulb,” Mrs. Baker hissed at him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
Then Liam looked at me, sitting in
my wheelchair in the front of the room as always, and I nodded.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, in that case—”
“Liam, go back to your seat.”
We manage to demolish a plate of
onion rings, as well as a plate of French fries and sliders. Chelsea Clinton’s has the best onion rings. No other place compares. They’re crispy on the outside, and the onions
on the inside melt in your mouth.
After we finish our food and our
beers, I look at my watch and cringe at the time. It won’t be long before Tyler starts
wondering where I am. He also might
wonder why I smell like cigarettes, but I have the entire trip home to come up
with an answer for that one.
“I better go,” I say.
“Why? It’s not even eight. When does your PCA come?”
It’s a relief to be with someone who
knows I need a care assistant to help me at night, which limits how late I can
stay out. Even our couple friends,
Claude and Nina don’t know about that.
We always mumble an excuse about being tired.
“Nine-thirty,” I say.
“So you’ve got time!”
“Tyler’s expecting me back.”
He makes a face. “Oh, it’s like that.”
“It’s not like that.”
“So stay with me.”
His blue eyes are on mine, pleading
with me. I feel like there’s something
more going on here—something he hasn’t told me yet in all the time we’ve been
sitting here and talking. I want to stay
with him, but it’s not fair to Tyler—he worries when I’m out too late, even
though I tell him not to. I’ve got to
get back.
“Let’s head to the bus stop,” I
say. “Maybe we can grab ice cream.”
He chews on his lip, as if
contemplating how hard to push me.
Finally, his shoulders sag.
“Okay.”
It’s summertime, so even at seven in
the evening, it’s still light out. Sharing
a sidewalk with Liam is a bit of a challenge.
The sidewalks in Manhattan are already not terribly wide, and on top of
that, are broken up by trees planted on the side of the road and littered with
dozens of pedestrians. The two of us are
parting the crowd like the Red Sea, and every single person who passes has to
gawk at us. There was even a blind guy
with a white cane who turned to look at us—I guess he still had some
vision.
But to be fair, people stare nearly
as much when I’m with Tyler too.
“Maddie!” Liam gasps out of
nowhere. “Maddie, look! It’s a sex store! We have to go in there!”
I turn my neck to see where Liam is
pointing, which is at a store with grayed out windows and the words “Good
Vibrations” written in script lettering over the door. There’s a neon “OPEN” sign on one of the
grayed out windows.
“How do you know that’s a sex
store?” I say.
“Um, it’s called Good Vibrations.”
“It could be a record store.”
“A record store? What is this—1975? Come on, it’s obviously a sex store.” He grins at me. “I haven’t been in one of those in a really
long time.”
“Is that a big gap in your life?"
“Look, I’m
just saying, sex stores are few and far between these days. Good Vibrations could be gone this time next
year. Gone. And you’ll say to
yourself, ‘I wish I had listened to Liam and gone in while I still could.’”
I’ve never been in a sex shop before
and I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t either.
Not that Liam’s any saint—I still remember overhearing Mrs. Murphy
bemoaning to my mother when we were thirteen that she had found porn on Liam’s
computer. I really wish his mother
hadn’t relayed that story to my mom, because my mother was already lukewarm on
Liam. After she found out about the
porn, there was a strict rule that we had to stay out in the living room when
he came over.
It was a pointless rule though. Liam never tried anything with me. He never even touched me.
Well, that’s not entirely true. But it was back when we were thirteen.
It also didn’t matter because I
spent far more time at Liam’s house than he did at mine. He had Nintendo, and after doing my best with
his controller, he saved up his money to buy me a special controller that you
could operate with one hand. He was so
excited when he gave it to me. Now you can stop sucking so bad, Maddie.
“We’re going inside,” Liam says
decisively. “We’re going in the sex
store, and I’m going to buy you some gummies shaped like penises.”
It’s hard to say no to Liam
sometimes.
If people were staring at us on the
street, it’s nothing compared to the looks we get in what turns out to be most
definitely a sex store. Liam’s wheels
immediately knock into a mannequin positioned on the ground, but it’s only the
bottom half of a mannequin, and the legs are pointing straight up. A salesgirl rushes over to help him right the
mannequin.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asks
him. She’s looking between the two of
us, trying to figure the whole thing out.
“Yes,” he says with a straight
face. “We’re looking for dildos or
strap-ons for men with extremely small penises, because Maddie here’s boyfriend
is unfortunately not very well endowed.”
“Liam!” I hiss at him. I look at the salesgirl. “We don’t need that.”
“She’s being kind,” he sighs. “She definitely does. If you have anything
for micropenises, that would be ideal.”
I feel a bit sorry for the
salesgirl, who is standing there awkwardly.
But then again, if you work in a sex shop, you’re sort of asking for it. “So… do you…?”
“We really don’t. He thinks he’s funny.” I glare at Liam, who is laughing into his
fist. “But he’s not.”
“I’m a little funny,” he says as the
salesgirl wanders off.
“Not even a little.”
We wander into the S&M area,
which was never something I was into.
Obviously, being a dominatrix is out for me since I can barely hold a
whip, much less brandish one. And as for
being a submissive—well, when I already need someone to help me to get in and
out of bed, it takes some of the fun out of pretending. Liam seems fascinated by the whips and ball
gags, and he pulls a pair of fishnet stockings off the shelf.
“I bet Tyler would like you in
this,” he says.
“Hmm. I’m not so sure.”
“I
would like you in this.”
He winks at me when he says it,
which makes my stomach do a strange flip.
There was a time when I was searching all of Liam’s words for hidden
meaning, but that time is long since passed.
He’s just being playful, that’s all.
I don’t buy the fishnet
stockings. I don’t have the legs for
it. There are plenty of girls in
wheelchairs with great legs, but I don’t count myself as one of them. Of all my limbs, my legs are most severely
affected by my cerebral palsy. My calves
and thighs are stick-thin, the joints of my knees like giant balls attaching
the two bones. I always stick with pants
or skirts that go nearly down to my ankles. Even on the hottest days, you won’t
catch me in shorts.
If I said anything along those lines
to Liam, he’d try to convince me his own legs are worse. It’s not true though. His legs are actually functional—he could
walk if he wanted, albeit with braces and crutches. I’ve never walked and I never will.
“If I buy the penis gummies, will
you be happy?” I ask him.
He grabs the pushrims of his chair,
shifting his weight. “Okay, but you have
to eat… five of them.”
“Only if you eat five of them also.”
“I’m not gay, Maddie.”
“Okay, four then.”
“Deal.”
He reaches out his hand and we shake
on it. His fingers linger on mine for a
moment longer than necessary and my heart skips in my chest. I still don’t know what he wanted to talk to
me about tonight.
Liam
I
love you, Maddie Colson.
I almost said it a dozen times
tonight.
I almost said it a million times in
my life.
I only actually said it once. And it fucked things up like you wouldn’t
believe.
I don’t remember a lot from my early
childhood—meeting Maddie was one of the first things I remember clearly. I remember how pretty she looked. Blond hair that curled around her chin. Big eyes.
A dimple on her right cheek.
I didn’t like girls then. I mean, I was five. Girls had cooties, for
the most part. But it was different with
Maddie. I couldn’t shut up about her
that year. My sisters started teasing me
I had a crush on her. I didn’t even deny
it. What was the point?
She was the only kid at school who
used a wheelchair like I did. I’d never
known anyone well who had a disability like mine—my parents made a point of
getting me “integrated.” All the other
kids treated me weird, but Maddie never did.
She was like me. Any time I
talked to her about things that frustrated me, she always understood.
I assumed Maddie and I would
eventually get married. She was my best
friend, I was absolutely in love with her, she was in a wheelchair just like I
was, and she was conveniently located next door. It seemed like an obvious match.
It eventually dawned on me that
Maddie didn’t think of me the same way I thought of her. I still remember being in her living room,
watching a movie about a dog superhero when we were about eight or nine years
old, and I said something like, “When we get married, we should have a dog.”
Maddie laughed. “No,” she said.
“Why not?” I frowned.
“Dogs are great. You can train
them to do anything. And we could
probably get one of those helper dogs, I bet.”
She laughed again. “No, I meant we’re not going to get married.”
I was shocked. In retrospect, it’s embarrassing how
surprised and upset I was when she said that.
“Why not?”
She looked at me like I was being
dumb. “Because we’re just not.”
I shifted in my chair, feeling
suddenly uncomfortable. I always had a
hard time keeping still as a kid. I got
frustrated a lot by the things my body wouldn’t let me do—and on top of that,
the things my mom wouldn’t let me do.
Like going to the top of that giant hill on Pine street in my chair and
going down as fast as I could. I didn’t
get why I couldn’t do it in my chair when other kids were allowed to do it on
skateboards. So I did it anyway.
But usually I was okay around
Maddie. I got restless a lot, but it
wasn’t as bad.
“Well,” I said, “I didn’t say we’d
definitely get married, but… we might.”
Now her blue eyes were
incredulous. “You don’t really think
that, do you?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I was just kidding.”
That’s how I played it from then
on. I pretended like I wasn’t in love
with Maddie, because it was the only way we could keep being friends. But I had no intention of spending my life
without her. Someday I would convince
her we were more than just friends—I wasn’t just her honorary brother. I could be something more.
Then about seven years ago, that day
came.
It’s hard to think about. Maddie and I never talk about it. But suffice to say, I managed to fuck it up
expertly.
I’ve got to fix it. I’ve got to win her over.
This loser she’s dating—Tyler—he
can’t give her what I can. He can’t love
her as much as I do. It’s not
possible. Yes, he is able-bodied, but so
what?
If I can build a multi-million
dollar company from scratch, I can convince Maddie Colson to be my wife.
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