22. Darius
“Darius!” Ebony’s eyes widened as I rolled off the elevator.
We had ended up in another class together although I’d missed practically the entire semester.
I did everything online, but I had to come take the final exam in person.
If it wasn’t physical therapy or a doctor’s appointment, I rarely left the house.
It had been four months since I got shot, and I was living like a recluse.
The day before, I had gotten my hair cut for the first time in two months.
I sat in the house and studied, did homework, played PlayStation, watched TV, or listened to music. Most days, I was still pissed at my circumstances. I wanted to dig Mario’s ass up and kill him again. I wanted to snap Mya’s neck. I wanted to do a lot of shit.
“What’s up?” I gave her a small smile.
“You look good. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“’Preciate that.”
One of the reasons I didn’t go out much was because I hated to feel like an exhibit in a freak show. I didn’t want pity, and I didn’t like when people were nosey as hell. Streets could gossip, talk, and speculate all they wanted, but not too many people knew the real. Nor did they need to know.
One thing about me getting shot and sitting still was that I knew my textbooks like the back of my hand, and I knew I was going to ace all of my final exams. Even though I was choosing not to participate in graduation, I was still getting a degree.
As more students entered the classroom, I caught the stares, and it was lowkey starting to piss me off.
People acted like they’d never seen a nigga in a wheelchair before.
Everybody always wanted to know what happened and the answer was usually, none of your fuckin’ business.
The fact that a lot of strangers were bold enough to ask someone they didn’t know personal questions was alarming.
But what was even more alarming was my mouth when I was pissed off.
I appreciated everything Vani had done for me and Dymand.
She held me down and never complained at all.
She remained patient when I was snappy and irritable, and she treated Dymand like her own child.
The fact that her and Bree were cool was mind blowing, but I couldn’t fully let go of the anger that I held inside.
Not being able to walk was some crucial shit.
My entire life had changed. Azarius had dropped me off at school, and he was going to pick me up afterward.
I felt like a lame that couldn’t do anything on my own and needed a babysitter.
My doctor, parents, and Vani had all suggested that I talk to a therapist, and I kindly declined every time.
There wasn’t anything a therapist could tell me that would make me stop feeling like I was less than a man.
After the exam, I got in Azarius’ car, and he passed the blunt that he was smoking to me.
“Anywhere you need to go before I take you to the crib?”
“Nah.”
“You know you can drive. I see people in wheelchairs driving all the time.”
“I’m straight,” I responded in a dry tone.
From my peripheral, I saw Azarius shaking his head. “How long you gon’ be mad at the world, fam? You being in a wheelchair is fucked up. I promise it is, but you never been a weak nigga. It’s time for you to shake back kid.”
“Bro, respectfully, I don’t need anybody telling me how to feel or act. I have two legs, and they’re both useless. Until you know how that feels, I’m good on the advice. I don’t see myself ever accepting this shit.”
“Then do something about it. Get your ass up and walk. Go to physical therapy and do exactly what they tell you to do instead of getting frustrated and acting like a female. They’ve told you more than once that repetition is key.
You have to keep doing the exercises over and over and not just at rehab. You have to do them at home too.”
With a frown, I passed the blunt back to Azarius. I was sick of lectures and motivational speeches from everybody. I wanted to be miserable and if they didn’t want to see it, they didn’t have to be around me.
When Azarius arrived at my home, he got my wheelchair out of the back of the car, and I got out of the car on my and into the chair.
My house wasn’t wheelchair accessible, so I had to get a ramp built.
I was renting, but my landlord had to accommodate my needs.
In the house, I found Vani sitting on the couch eating ice cream.
“Hey, bae. How was the exam?” No matter how rotten my mood was, Vani was always nice and polite.
“I aced it.”
A big smile graced her face. “I knew you would. That was your last exam, so I guess it’s safe to call you a college graduate. What do you want to do? Cookout at home, dinner at a restaurant, a trip? Anything you want we can do.”
“Cool. ‘Cus I don’t want to do anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Not one thing,” I stared straight ahead. I could feel Vani watching me, but I didn’t face her. She couldn’t have been shocked that I didn’t want to celebrate.
“You worked so hard, and I know your parents would love to celebrate with you.”
“Why am I supposed to always care what someone else wants? Every time I say I want or don’t want something, you mention Dymand, my parents, yourself. So, it’s just fuck what I want?”
“No, but I just think you might end up regretting it if you don’t do certain things. You don’t have to stop living because you’re in a wheelchair.”
“Here the fuck we go again.” I shook my head. “Everybody is a motivational speaker all of a sudden.”
“I’m not saying anything else. You don’t have to worry about it.” Vani stood up. “For four months, I’ve dealt with your rotten ass attitude. I’ve ignored the disrespect and made excuses for you, but you being in a wheelchair doesn’t mean you have the right to be a piece of shit human.”
“You don’t have to deal with it.”
“Finally, something we agree on. I’m out. You can have the house all to yourself. Sit in it and feel sorry for yourself. Do whatever makes you happy.”
“Thank you.”
Vani walked toward the stairs, and my nostrils expanded.
I wasn’t mad at her, but I was mad all the same.
My dick still worked but most times, I didn’t even want to have sex.
Maybe I was depressed, but I didn’t see how therapy or a pill was going to change that.
When Vani got tired of me not wanting to have sex, not leaving the house, and being an asshole most of the time, I didn’t doubt she’d leave.
I promised myself when that time came, I wouldn’t care.
But watching her walk to the door with a duffel bag over one shoulder puling a large suitcase behind her, my chest tightened.
“Damn you couldn’t wait, could you?” why I was antagonizing her, I had no clue.
“Suck my ass, Darius. You will not flip this narrative. I refuse to keep being a punching bag. I’ve given you all the grace I’m going to give. But the way you’re treating me, stand on that shit. Don’t cry later. Punk ass.”
Shorty was so heated that it was almost funny. I think one of the things that made me uncomfortable was all the pity and people walking on eggshells around me. Vani wasn’t trying to spare my feelings. She was pissed and didn’t care. That shit made me feel normal in a twisted way.
“I ain’t doing no crying. You know better than that,” I replied.
“Darius, shut yo’ goofy ass up sitting there acting like I never seen yo’ punk ass cry. Keep it up, and I’m going to dump your big ass out of that wheelchair before I go. Might even take the mother fucker upstairs and leave it.”
“Yo what is wrong with you?” I laughed. Her comment caught me off guard, but it was funny.
Vani ignored me. With a frown she grabbed her keys and walked to the door.
“Vani, I’m sorry,” I called out.
“Too little too late,” she snapped opening the door.
“Got damn, shorty, I’m trying to apologize.
I’ve been difficult I know. If you do leave, I deserve that.
But if you stay, you don’t have to be nice.
Don’t feel sorry for me and make me feel pathetic.
Curse me out. Leave the house for hours and don’t call to check on me.
Make me feel like I’m not a charity case. ”
Vani walked over to me with a frown still setting her lips into a firm line.
“Having patience and being loving and kind doesn’t mean a person is trying to make you feel pathetic, dumb ass.
If you want to be treated regular say so because I owe you a few pops in the mouth.
Stupid, ugly ass boy,” she fussed, and I laughed.
“That shit is turning me on,” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward me while she shook her head.
“Sick.”
“I know.”
I wrapped my arms around Vani and for the first time since I got shot, I didn’t feel pathetic.
I didn’t feel less than. I felt like me.
Closing my eyes I inhaled her scent. Tomorrow was a new day.
I’d work hard, get my shit together, give it my all in physical therapy, all that good shit.
But for the moment, I just wanted my girl to sit on my face and keep reminding me that I was still all man.