Chapter One #2
I debate saying something, but I don’t. It probably wouldn’t look good to bad-mouth a blind man, so I put the lid back on and set it down.
“Alright, one warm water coming right up,” I say.
I pause, waiting to see if he’ll say anything, before sighing.
“I’m going to go unpack. If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask. ”
I walk back to my bedroom where I toss my suitcase on my bed and open it.
The room is bigger than the one I’d had at my last apartment, which really isn’t saying much.
This one has a nice full-sized bed, which is an upgrade from the twin I had still been sleeping on at the age of twenty-five.
There is a dresser in the corner and a desk, but the room is simple.
When I pull the dresser drawers open, the smell of fresh wood touches my nose.
I put my underwear and socks in the first drawer, shirts in the second, pants in the third, and sweatshirts in the last drawer.
There isn’t much else in my suitcase. A few books, a few movies.
Everything else I own is in my car since I had decided to completely move out of my apartment.
I didn’t need it if I am living here, so what’s the use of paying rent on it?
And it isn’t like I would have trouble finding another dumpy apartment if this didn’t work out.
I walk back into the living room. “Do you need something?”
“Please, just go away,” he says sharply.
Alright. I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards, but there isn’t much.
Thankfully, there is enough to get by until tomorrow because I really don’t feel like grocery shopping today.
I’m sure I won’t feel like grocery shopping tomorrow either, but it has to be a little easier using someone else’s credit card.
I walk back into the living room and sit down in a chair.
There’s not much left of the movie, so I wait until it’s over.
“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so I’m wondering if you could tell me what types of food you like?” I ask as soon as the credits roll.
He keeps his face forward, refusing to even turn his head a fraction in my direction.
“How about meats? You like chicken?” I ask.
He ignores me, so I just lean back and watch the TV.
“You want to sit in a chair? That wheelchair can’t be comfortable.”
Ha, like I would actually get an answer!
When supper time comes around, I cook rice and chicken since that is basically all that I can find in the house. I dish it up into a bowl, grab a fork, and carry it into the living room. After setting his tray up in front of him, I place the bowl on it.
“I made rice and chicken. There wasn’t much else in the house, so this is what we’ll have to make do with. I put your fork on the right,” I say.
He doesn’t even turn his head toward the food.
“I’ll be back,” I say before getting up and walking into the kitchen.
I watch from the doorway as he slowly reaches for his fork.
He has a brace on his right hand, but he tries to set it against the bowl, so he can feel it.
I know that his hand isn’t broken, but he seems to be having trouble using it.
I know he doesn’t want me to watch him fumble, which is why he refused to eat in front of me.
I sigh and eat my food from the doorway of the kitchen, so I can watch in case he needs something.
When he’s done I walk back in. “Was it okay?”
“No,” he says.
Of course not.
“What would you have liked different?”
“All of it.”
Of course.
“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s how I cook. If you’d like something specific, I’ll make it for dinner tomorrow.”
I don’t even expect an answer, so I pick up the bowls and wash them in the sink before drying them. After a few hours of TV, I get no response when I ask if he wants a snack or if he wants to take a shower.
“Alright, bedtime,” I say.
“I’m not a child.”
“Never said you were,” I say. But since he can’t do anything about it, I grab the back of his wheelchair and wheel him down the hallway and into the bathroom. “Toothbrush…where’s your toothbrush?”
“Up your ass,” he says.
“Nope, I think I would have noticed it there,” I say.
I open the cupboards and finally find it in the end drawer. I put toothpaste on it and wet it. “Here you go,” I say as I place it in his hand. He instinctively grabs it, and I’m thrilled when he finally brushes his teeth. When he’s done, I put the toothbrush back where I found it.
“I need to pee, so leave,” he says as he tries to show me out with a wave of his hand.
“You expect me to leave while you try to pee alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What, you want to fondle my dick or something?”
Maybe.
“Your leg is hurt, and your hand is hurt, so I think I’ll help you onto the toilet. I can leave then if you insist, I just don’t want you to fall,” I say as I wheel him over to the toilet.
He’s bigger than me, so I put the lock on the wheelchair and wrap an arm behind his back. With his help, I manage to get him up. He slides his pants down, so I guide him onto the toilet.
“Alright, I’m leaving but only if you promise to tell me when you’re done. Don’t do something stupid on your own.”
He ignores me as I walk out and shut the door. It isn’t long before I hear a loud crash, so I yank the door open to find Lane half on the ground with everything knocked off the countertop. Quickly, I rush over and grab him, so I can help pull him into the chair.
As I help him, I don’t even bother saying anything because I can tell he’s mad at himself and would probably snap at me if I did. Instead, I kick the stuff on the floor out of the way and wheel him through the doorway and into his bedroom. “I want to check your wounds and then you can go to bed.”
I ruffle through the mess that James had left for me, but I get the gist of what’s there.
“I have to pull your sweatpants down, alright?” I say as I do just that, so I can get to his thigh.
I look at the staples, which seem to be healing well.
It won’t be long before he’ll be able to get them out and get out of the wheelchair.
I clean the area and help him back into his sweats.
He also has a cut on his arm and a small one on his other leg that I check. “There. Everything feels alright?”
He ignores me, so I help him up into his bed and pull the sheets over him.
“Can I check your eyes?” I ask since I haven’t seen him with the sunglasses off yet.
“No, I’ve already taken care of them.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“They’re fine.”
“Goodnight. If you need anything, wake me up. What time do you usually get up in the morning?”
Silence.
“Yeah, me too,” I say before walking out of the room.
***
I wake at eight and help Lane into the living room without much incident and without any kind words from him.
“Do you want to sit in a chair or lay down?”
Silence.
Oh, I can only be nice for so long. “Lane, I am speaking to you,” I say. “You’re not deaf . Answer me.”
“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone!” he says as he slams his hand down on the arm of the chair.
I honestly think he just wants to rot in that chair and let depression consume him. “Well, sorry, but your pity party of one just gained a new member,” I say. “And guess what? I’m not leaving. I’m going to help you whether you like it or not because I get paid, which I like.”
He turns his head toward me. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“I did, and in retrospect, it might have been a bit mean. But I feel like you also thought it was slightly funny,” I say.
“So, you’re a comedian now?”
“Oh no. I just say stuff that gets me in trouble, but no one’s here to yell at me. If I keep getting paid I’m staying. It’s your choice whether you want it to be a fun and pleasant experience or hell.”
“My life is already hell.”
I snort. “Trust me, buddy, I can make it worse. I could…put you in the corner…take away your blanket…feed you dog food,” I say as I try not to laugh.
“Can’t be any worse than what you fed me last night,” he says, and I feel like I can see a slight upturn of his lips. Maybe he isn’t all bad.
I laugh in surprise. “You are pure evil.”
“Then maybe you should leave now.”
“No, I’m not going to.” I grab his water bottle and go into the kitchen where I run the water until it is almost hot. I fill up his cup and carry it into the living room where I hand it to him. “Here’s your water.”
He takes it from me and I watch with a grin as he takes a sip of it and spits it out. “What is this?” He shakes the cup and water sloshes out.
“Yesterday you said you liked your water warm.”
“Oh, really funny,” he says, but his words don’t have the venom they held earlier. He throws it at me, and let me say, for a blind guy, he has a really good aim. It hits me square in the forehead and I stumble back as water showers me.
“Ow!” I snap as I grab my head. It feels like I should have a welt the size of an egg on my head.
“Did that hit you?” he asks as he tries to hide a grin.
“I’m going to have a brain tumor now.”
“I don’t see anything,” he says as he looks quite content with himself. “Not even a red spot.”
“Hmm. I’m going to buy you cat food for lunch,” I say.
“From the limited amount of time I have spent with you I have decided that you’re actually quite mean. I guess you’re really not the little happy boy you were pretending to be yesterday,” he says.
“Being around you for any amount of time can turn a saint into a sinner,” I say.
“If you’re insistent on joining this ‘pity party,’ go make me some oatmeal.”
“I thought you didn’t like my food,” I say.
“Hopefully even you can’t ruin oatmeal,” he says.
“One could hope,” I say as I turn from him and walk into the kitchen.
I pour the little packet of oatmeal into a bowl as well as some milk and slip it into the microwave.
Then I pull open all the wrong drawers before finding the spoons.
Once the oatmeal is cooked, I carry it into the living room and set it down in front of Lane. “Spoon on the right.”
He reaches for it and touches it gingerly. I think he is waiting for me to leave, but I don’t. I honestly can’t. I also can’t wipe the grin off my face. He sticks his spoon into the oatmeal, grabbing a spoonful before raising it to his mouth.
“What is this? Soup?” he asks as he tips the spoon and everything runs off.
“I may have added a bit too much milk,” I admit. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but instead of trying to drain any of the milk, I had decided he could drink it with a straw if he is going to be mean.
“How did you get hired?” he asks in shock.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say. “I guess I’m good at talking women into things. Alright, I’m going shopping. You going to tell me what you want?”
“I want you to leave. I mean, if I have to suffer and be taken care of like I’m an invalid, I would at least like someone that cooks.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I can buy cooking skills at the store. So, think of something edible. How about meats. Are you picky?”
He tries to eat the oatmeal, but every spoonful is just milk. “Is there actually any oatmeal in here?” he asks.
“Just drink it,” I suggest. “So, I’m just going to go buy you things and hope you’re not allergic to any of it. You want to go with me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay. What would you like to do while I’m gone?”
He gets a look on his face like he has a bright idea. “Why don’t you go get me a book? Oh, and set up a puzzle for me, too,” he suggests.
“Alright,” I say. I walk into the hallway and turn left into his bedroom.
There’s a bookshelf shoved against the wall filled with books.
The man must have loved to read because it’s overflowing out onto the floor.
I pick the first book off the top of the pile, walk back into the living room, and set the book on his lap.
“Here you are. I couldn’t find a puzzle though, but I can pick you up one at the store.
A thousand pieces wouldn’t be too hard for you, would it? ”
The expression on his face shows me his shock. “Oh ho…that’s mean ,” he says, unable to hide his grin. He grabs the book and chucks it at me. Thankfully, this time he misses and the book skids across the floor.
“You asked for it!” I say as I pick the book up off the ground and set it on the coffee table. “Want the TV on?” I ask as I pick up the remote.
“As long as you don’t do it,” he says.
I turn it on anyway and flip through it until I find the Spanish movie channel, really hoping he doesn’t know Spanish.
“How’d you know that this is my favorite channel?” he jokes.
“I’m good like that. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I have my cell, so if you need anything I have my number dialed in it. All you have to do is ask Siri. You do remember my name, right?”
He picks up his phone, holds the button and lifts it toward his face. “Siri, call shit for brains.”
“ I don’t see Shit in your contacts. Should I look for locations by that name? ” Siri asks.
Nice.
I grab my car keys and walk out the door.