Emily

by Jack Weyland

  From her bedroom, Emily could hear the young women talking to her mother in the living room. “We brought her some cookies we made.”

  “That’s so thoughtful of you. I know she’ll appreciate them.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s in her room.”

  Before her mother could say anything, one of the girls pushed open the door to Emily’s room.

  Emily quickly covered herself up, but she couldn’t hide her neck and face.

  “Oh, my gosh!” the girl said, pulling the door closed.

  “What?” one of the girls asked.

  “She looks so bad. How is she ever going to show her face to anyone after what happened to her?”

  “Girls, we appreciate the effort you made in making the cookies,” Emily’s mother said curtly. “But the next time you visit someone who’s sick, you might try to not leave them feeling worse than before you came.”

  I tried not to show how much the girl’s comment hurt me, Emily thought.

  But it did hurt me. And it will always hurt me. And now I’m in a position to be hurt like that over and over again.

  Her tears fell on the page she was trying to read. I’ll never be able to sell this book back, she thought.

  Only people with clear skin and good eyes and strong legs belong here. I should just pack up my bags and go home and never come back. I can’t fight the whole world. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m going home to Ogden. I’ll just stay in my room. That’s the only place where I feel safe and where I don’t have to interact with people.

  To blunt her disappointment, Emily had begun retreating into frequent daydreams. She had one fantasy she especially enjoyed in which she was reunited with David Alexander. She had seen him on the television evening news one night, standing in front of the wreckage from a train derailment somewhere in the South. His handsome face was framed by the burning wreckage glowing in the night behind him. With his clothing characteristically rumpled and his hair wet from standing in the rain, he was as flamboyant as ever, and seeing him brought all Emily’s old feelings for him flooding back. For days after that, she couldn’t get him out of her mind, and whenever she thought about her scars and all she had lost, she would retreat into a fantasy that she had never been burned and that she and David were together again.

  I had a dream before my accident, she reminded herself, but now what do I have? The world is not set up for people like me.

  She closed her book. Now that she’d decided to drop out of school and return home the next day, there was no reason to study.

  She didn’t want to return to her apartment or to talk to any of her roommates. She would go back later, after everyone was asleep. Then, in the morning, she’d stay in bed until they all left for classes before calling her mom to come and get her. That way, she could be gone before any of her roommates returned from classes. And that would be it.

  I can still take classes, she thought. I’ll take home study classes. Maybe I can get a job where I’ll never have to leave my room, doing things on the computer.

  She moved to a carrel on the second level where she was out of sight but could see people coming and going, in and out of the library. It gave her something to do. After a time, she noticed a young man in a wheelchair. He did not have the use of his hands and was guiding his electric powered wheelchair by using pressure sensors on the headrest. She watched as he tried to steer himself between two bookshelves but got hung up. He maneuvered back and forth, trying to steer himself out of the tight spot but was having little luck; the more he worked the more tightly he became wedged.

  Emily watched as dozens of people walked right by him, none of them seeming to notice or care about his predicament.

  Isn’t anyone going to help? she thought. Are you all just going to let him sit there? Are you all blind? Don’t you care about anyone except yourself? What is wrong with you people?

  Finally she could stand it no longer. She hurried down the stairs and went to his rescue.

  “Excuse me, are you stuck?”

  The young man smiled and said something, but she couldn’t understand him.

  “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

  He smiled. “I’m playing hide and go seek with myself.”

  She started laughing. “Well, would you mind if I butt in and get you out of this mess?”

  “That would be nice.”

  She got the wheelchair turned so he could make it by himself.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Are you a student here?”

  He smiled. “Only when I study.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Don.”

  “I’m Emily. In case you were wondering, I was burned. That’s why I’m wearing this Robin Hood costume.”

  He said something else, which she couldn’t understand. But she refused to just nod her head and walk away. I’m going to keep asking until I understand.

  When she finally pieced it together and let it sink in, she realized his comment was hilarious. He had said, “What would Robin Hood do in college? Rob from the smart and give to the dumb?”

  She couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. “That is so funny!”

  Don laughed too, seeming to enjoy the joke as much as Emily.

  After a moment, she said, “Listen, can I help you get somewhere? Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “Can I walk you home?” she asked.

  “I don’t walk.”

  Emily smiled at his quick wit. “That’s okay. There are some things I don’t do either. I was in a fire in my kitchen. I was cooking soup.”

  “Soup?” he asked with a grin.

  “Yes.”

  He said something else, but Emily couldn’t immediately make it out. After two tries, she finally understood what he’d said was, “Not much of a cook, are you?”

  “Not much.”

  They slowly made their way through the early evening light to his home. It took awhile, but not because of him. He had an amazing ability to steer his battery powered wheel-chair by making slight movements of his head.

  “Sorry to be so slow,” she said.

  Don lived in a large, older home, no more than a block from campus. It had a wheelchair ramp that Don buzzed right up, onto the front porch. He asked Emily to open the front door for him, then invited her in.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I’d better be going.”

  But, before she could leave, Don’s mother came to the door.

  “I thought I heard someone out here,” she said. “Who’s your friend, Don?”

  “This is Emily,” Don said, laughing. “She got me unstuck at the library.”

  Don’s mother insisted that Emily come in. She said she was just taking a batch of cookies out of the oven and that Emily and Don could have some. Don maneuvered his way into the kitchen, and, feeling a little awkward, Emily followed him.

  They ended up having cookies and milk, with Emily feeding Don and helping him drink his milk by holding a straw to his lips. After a time, Don’s father joined them at the kitchen table. Like his son, Don’s dad was also a jokester, and the parents made Emily feel immediately welcome. They were warm, gracious, and easy to talk to.

  Emily was somewhat relieved to see that Don’s parents sometimes also had to ask Don to repeat himself. It made her feel less self-conscious about having to do so herself. Don took it in stride, patiently repeating each word until it was finally understood. Or, sometimes, with particularly difficult words, he spelled each letter.

  Don’s neck was bent permanently backward, and he held his head at an awkward angle. His wrists were also severely bent, and his fingers were stiff and unusable. Watching him, Emily thought to herself: He can’t weigh more than ninety pounds. How does he manage? How can his parents let him go off to classes every day without being with him every step of the way? And why do I feel so good being here with him and his mom and dad?

  It was true. Since the t
ime of her accident, she couldn’t remember feeling more at ease or less self-conscious than she did being in that home.

  When it was time for Emily to go, Don’s mother walked her to the door. “Please come and visit us again,” she said. “Don always enjoys having company.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m thinking of quitting school and going home.”

  “How come?”

  “It’s hard for someone like me.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emily realized how stupid they sounded. Don’s mother didn’t seem to take offense, but Emily tried to smooth it over. “I mean . . .”

  “I know what you mean, Emily. It must be very difficult to feel different from everyone else. But if you stay here, you’ll make it easier for others who are struggling, who will come after you. At least, that’s what we tell Don. He enjoys thinking of himself as a trailblazer. You could be one too.”

  Emily said good-bye and then decided to take a walk. She found herself sitting in the dark on a bench by a sidewalk, which during the day was often full of students going to and from class.

  For just an instant, she could see in her mind an image of hundreds of boys and girls moving in a caravan on the sidewalk, each of them disadvantaged in some way—in wheelchairs, or on crutches, some in compression suits like hers, some blind, others without legs or arms. But, strangely enough, they were not college students. They were children, boys and girls, each of them enduring some kind of disability, through birth, illness, or accident.

  The words to her battle song, slightly changed, came to her mind:

  Bless all the dear children in thy tender care

  And fit us for a meaningful life to live for you here.

  Suddenly it was clear to her why the people she was seeing in her mind were young children. These are the children who will come after me, she thought. I must prepare a way for them. That is what the Savior wants me to do.

  She stood up with sudden purpose. I am not quitting. I am staying. I will prepare a way for all the dear children who have special needs.

  After she got back to her apartment, she called her roommates together and said with quiet determination, “Ladies, we need to talk.”

  * * * * *

  Over Christmas vacation, Emily returned to the burn center for another skin graft. It was a painful way to renew old friendships.

  Everyone was proud of her for returning to school.

  “You must be so smart now,” Red teased.

  “I was always smart, Red. It’s just that now I can prove it.”

  “You’re the best, Kid. You always were.”

  Before Emily’s operation, Brooke took her around and introduced her to several of the new patients. “Emily is one of our real success stories. She can teach you guys a lot.”

  “Like what?” a twelve-year-old boy asked. He was a twenty-percenter, like Emily had been.

  It seemed so simple: “Put your trust in God. Do what the staff says and try to work through the pain. It’s going to hurt, but it’s for the best in the long run.”

  The boy wasn’t impressed. “I’ve heard all that before.”

  “I’m sure you have, but I’m here to tell you it works.”

  After the operation, she was again immobilized, which meant using a bedpan and lying still for hours at a time, with nothing to do except think about the direction her life had taken.

  She was glad she’d decided to stay in college. Not just because of the classes she had completed but also because of what she felt she’d done to ease the way for what she called all the dear children.

  During fall term Emily and Don had organized a new campus organization. They called it New Directions. It was a support group for those on campus with special needs. The purpose of the club was to help each other but also to present a united front from students whose needs were otherwise not being recognized.

  One of their first activities was to meet with the dean of students. Emily was nervous about the meeting, but when they were invited into his office, she was proud to be joined by two people in wheelchairs, three blind students, and four hearing impaired students.

  The dean seemed a little threatened. “We are doing our best to abide by the letter of the law in regard to those with special needs,” he said.

  “We know you are doing your best,” Emily said. “And we appreciate that. We just want you to know that from time to time our members may come across something that makes it difficult for them to carry out their studies here. When that happens, with your permission, we’d like to be able to come directly to you and ask for your help. Is that acceptable to you if we do that?”

  She was surprised to hear herself speaking in her newscaster’s voice.

  He cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, of course. We want to do everything we can to meet federal guidelines.”

  “We’re not speaking about federal guidelines,” Emily said. “We just want to have our needs met. May I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you have kids?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “Four.”

  “And are they all healthy and well?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “That is wonderful. You must feel very blessed.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Try imagining one of them ending up like one of us. And then ask yourself the question, ‘What would I want the university to do for my son or my daughter?’ If you ask yourself that question, I think you’ll look at things much differently. The truth is, sir, we are somebody’s son or somebody’s daughter. And we want an education as much as anyone here on this campus.”

  To his credit, the dean of students became a strong supporter of any requests made to him by their group.

  Heavenly Father, she prayed as she lay immobilized in her hospital bed, I’m doing my best to help you bless all the children in thy tender care. Thank you for helping me with my efforts to show my thanks for what you did for me when I was here the first time.

  * * * * *

  When Emily returned to school for winter term, having friends from New Directions helped her feel more at home.

  She and Don went to the school’s winter formal together. Before the dance, they ate dinner at Don’s house, just the two of them in the dining area, with his mom serving as chef and his dad as their waiter.

  After Don and Emily finished eating the main course, Don’s dad cleared away the dishes and then brought out an elegant chocolate pudding. Emily invited Don’s parents to have dessert with them.

  Don and his folks told Emily about some of the humorous things that had happened to Don as a result of his disability as he was growing up.

  “Tell her about the leaf,” Don said with a smile.

  Don’s mother laughed. “When Don was thirteen, he went to handicap camp. He rode up with the others in a school bus. The window next to his seat on the bus was open, and a leaf blew in and landed on Don’s lap. When Don said, ‘I caught a leaf,’ someone thought he’d said, ‘I can’t breathe.’ Everyone panicked. They stopped the bus, and the whole staff gathered around him, trying frantically to see what the matter was. They even carried him off the bus to get him some additional air. The whole time he was trying to explain what he’d said, but it wasn’t until he started laughing that they listened long enough to finally understand what he’d said.”

  At the dance, Don and Emily danced every dance, he in his wheelchair and she next to him, moving in rhythm to the music. Afterwards, at his door, she kissed him on the cheek. “I suppose you’ll tell everyone that I kissed you, right?”

  He laughed. “It will be all over campus by tomorrow.”

  “I hope so, Don. Thanks so much for a wonderful evening.”

  Don’s mom and dad gave her a ride home. When she walked into her apartment, two of her roommates and their dates were there.

  “I saw you at the dance,” one of the guys said. “I think it’s great you’d go there with the g
uy in the wheelchair.”

  “Oh, Emily’s always doing stuff like that,” one of her roommates said.

  That made Emily mad. “Doing what kind of stuff?” she asked.

  “You know, feeling sorry for people like Don.”

  Emily couldn’t let that pass. “The truth is, there’s no one I would rather spend time with than Don. He’s funny, he’s cheerful, he’s considerate. What more could any girl want?”

  “Someone who can walk might be nice,” the girl said.

  “Oh, can’t he walk? I didn’t notice,” Emily said.

  * * * * *

  Emily was happy, and the winter and spring terms passed quickly. She kept busy and did well in her classes. Because of her compression suit, her closest friends called her Robyn Hood, but she didn’t mind. It was a sign they accepted her.

  Two weeks before the end of school, as she was looking forward to going home for the summer, Emily was asked to meet with her bishop. The interview was scheduled for Sunday morning a couple of hours before church. She thought he might be going to call her to teach Relief Society in the fall, and she was comfortable with that.

  But she was totally unprepared for what it really was.

  “Please sit down,” Bishop Cameron said as she entered his office. He had a round face and only a narrow band of short hair around his otherwise completely bald head. Because he was six-foot-five and weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds, he had spent most of his life trying not to intimidate people. He did that by speaking softly and displaying a wonderful smile.

  “Will you serve in any calling that the Lord has for you?” he asked.

  Thinking she knew what it was, Emily said, “Yes, I will.”

  “Good for you.” He paused. “I went to the temple earlier this week.”

  That’s nice, Emily thought, wondering where this was going.

  “While I was there, I prayed to know who Father in Heaven wants to serve as Relief Society president when school begins again next fall. He let me know you are his choice. I don’t have to ask you if you’ll accept, because you just said you would, but what I need to know is, who would you like to be your counselors?”