Paraplegic

by Troy Dearbourne

  I pat the sides of my wheels. "I don't do well in crowds, bulky wheels and all."

  "Aw, that's too bad. I was gonna get behind the mic and announce you would be giving people rides across the dance floor." I laugh lightly at his words.

  "Pretty sure that would end badly. I'd probably run over everyone's toes, or mow them down entirely. Really don't wanna turn this night into a human bowling session."

  A boy, one who reminds me of Xander, is standing on one side of the punch table talking to a group of his buddies. On the other side of the table stands a cute blonde, a pink dress sprinkled with purple flowers hangs around her petite figure. I can tell the group of guys are urging the boy to ask her to a dance. The boy just keeps shaking his head and wringing his hands nervously at their attempts. After a few minutes of this, the group then gently nudges him in the girl's direction. Seemingly left with no other choice, the boy reluctantly shuffles over to the girl, combing his hair with his fingers as he walks. She looks at him as he approaches; they exchange a few words. A cute, little smile blooms across the girl's face, and she nods her head enthusiastically. The boy blows a sigh of relief, his puffy cheeks deflating, then takes her by the hand and escorts her to the middle of the dance floor. The group of guys burst into cheers and hoots, giving the boy many thumbs up.

  Calix tilts his head in the direction of the commotion. "What's happening?"

  "A group of guys were trying to get their friend to ask a girl to a dance."

  "And?"

  "She accepted."

  His face lights up with that goofy smile, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Good on ya, mate!"

  The girl wraps her arms around the boy's neck, he places his hands just above her waist, and they dance to the slow-pace music.

  "I do love it when the underdog comes out on top, don't you, Milady?"

  "I suppose so." I hold back the bitterness that lingers on my tongue. Truthfully, I'm still battling my jealous feelings. Will my life always be like this? Am I destined to forever sit alone in a corner watching everyone else fulfill their happiest desires? I'm starting to wonder why Calix brought a paralyzed girl to a dance. Even more so, I'm starting to wonder why I accepted.

  "Do you like to dance?" Calix turns an ear towards me.

  "Are you kidding me? I was a cheerleader for crying out loud. Yes, I love to dance! There is nothing like the jittery feeling you get just before a big game, or being catapulted into the air by your teammates, or standing tall at the top of the pyramid. I miss it so much I can't even tell you."

  "Bet you'd give anything to get out on that floor, eh?"

  "You have no idea," a reminiscent sigh follows my words.

  We stay silent for a moment, listening to the peaceful music as the people around us dance to the subtle beat. Calix faces me, the spectrum of lights reflecting off his dark glasses. "Let's do it then!"

  I tilt my head to look up at him, brows drooping together in confusion. "What'd you just say?"

  "Let's do it. You. Me. Dance."

  "You're joking?"

  His goofy smile returns. "Milady, I never joke about dancing."

  I laugh loudly. "You're crazier than Maverick." Though, he isn't laughing with me, so I only assume he isn't joking in the least. "But . . . I mean . . . you're . . . and I'm . . ." I can't seem to locate the right words. "We can't!" finally blurting them out altogether.

  He frowns in disappointment. "And why not?

  "Um, because you're blind and I'm paralyzed. That's why!"

  "Rubbish! I still fail to understand why two abnormal people can't enjoy a dance together." I sit here leaning forward in my wheelchair with my mouth hung open, desperately trying to find a reason to refute his proposal. "C'mon," I can feel the insistence in that English accent of his, "you know you want to. I mean, look at me, who wouldn't want to dance with me?" He laughs at his own joke.

  "Oh, feeling confident are we?"

  He brushes his shoulder. "I'm always confident."

  "And what if I say no?"

  "You won't." His lips fold back revealing an eager smile.

  "Then . . . no," not being able to contain my smirk. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

  "You don't mean that."

  I hesitate with a response. I would like to dance. I really would. But I'm not even sure how I can; there's too much uncertainty. I mean, I'm in a wheelchair after all. I don't want to make a fool of myself. I would make a fool of myself. McKenzie, what are you thinking? You're a plegic, you can't dance!

  "I'm sorry, Calix, but I don't think that would be a good idea." The excitement that glowed before quickly vanishes from his face. I try cushioning the blow of my refusal. "But I'm sure there are plenty of other girls here who would love to dance with you."

  He turns his face away from me. I haven't a clue what's going through his mind; his dark glasses hide all emotions. I feel awful for rejecting him, but it had to be done. How am I supposed to dance when I'm paralyzed? You shouldn't have come here, McKenzie.

  "Excuse me for a mo." Calix rushes off in the direction of the stage as fast as someone who's blind can run, repeatedly sweeping the floor with Teddy in order to clear a pathway in between the maze of dancing people. "Pardon me. 'Scuse me. Behind you. Blind chap on a mission coming through!"

  He reaches the stage and ascends the staircase positioned on the side. The guitarist meets him halfway, taking him by the arm and guides him to the mic stand. The microphone shrieks in protest as the feedback rings through the speakers. Everyone slaps their hands over their ears in unison, grumbling at the sudden disturbance.

  "Whoa! Hey, hey! That was loud." He clears his throat. Everyone gradually slips back into their dancing mood. "Is everyone having fun? Having a blimey good time tonight?"

  The ballroom of dancers responds with cheers and clapter. I clap softly, too, still seated where Calix had left me. Maverick, who's returned for yet another glass of fruit punch, screams out, "WHOOO HOOOO, MAN! This is the best dance ever!"

  Maverick's outburst startles Calix for a moment, and I can tell he's not entirely sure where to focus his thoughts. "That . . . that's great, mate. And you might wanna lay off the punch for the night; you know what sugar does to you." Low chortles echo through the ballroom. "Anyway, I don't really do stuff like this, but I'm up here for one reason, a very special reason, because of a very special someone."

  It was in that moment a thought strikes my mind. My heart leaps in panic at the thought. No! He's not thinking - surely he wouldn't embarrass himself, or me, like that? Would he?

  Calix sticks his hand out in my general direction. "McKenzie Barlow, will you dance with me?"

  He did!

  Every head, and I do mean EVERY head, in the ballroom turns to look at me. I wanna die. Right here. Right now. Shrink inside a hole and never return. Please let this be a dream. Oh, please! I sink deeper into my wheelchair, hoping it will veil me. It doesn't. I can feel the judging eyes of every onlooker stare at my wheelchair and my exposed pitiful legs.

  Calix turns around to the band. "Hey, can we get a torchlight or something so everyone can see her?" Seconds later, the lightning crew swings their bright white spotlight on me and my little dark corner.

  This isn't happening to me. It can't be happening! My palms start sweating and my heart gallops to my throat.

  "Is it on? Are we good?" The guitarist informs him the lightning crew had turned on a spotlight. "That's great. Cheers. I need the help of everyone here tonight. I need you to help me get this shy girl out of her shell and show her there's nothing wrong with being a little different, no matter what that difference may be. Can you do that for me?" The ballroom explodes in cheers of agreement.

  First a few voices start from the midst of the large crowd, then a few more join in. Before long, everyone in the ballroom is chanting, "DANCE, DANCE, DANCE, DANCE, DANCE!" clapping in sync with each time they shouted the word. It grows loud quickly, echoing off the marble floor. I can't even hear myself think. Shortly into the chant,
the drummer joins in and bangs on his bass set to the beat of their thunderous voices.

  Calix stands at the front of the stage with an eager smile on his face. I know he can't see, but it looks as if he is staring directly at me.

  No. I can't do this. I can't dance! I'm going to embarrass myself. I'll be the laughing stock of this town for years to come. It'll be all over Twitter, I know it. But after such an attempt to get me to dance with him, how can I refuse?

  I place a reluctant hand on my wheels and nudge myself towards the stage. The crowd breaks into a round of cheers and loud whistling. McKenzie, what do you think you're doing? I can feel my stomach juices swirling inside of me. I think I'm gonna puke. But for whatever reason I continue to move out of my little corner, doubting my decision with every inch.

  The guitarist leans in close to Calix and whispers something in his ear, his smile broadening. I assume the guitarist told him I had accepted his dance proposal.

  Calix's shoves the mic back on the stand and throws himself off the three foot high stage, not bothering to use the stairs this time. He lands awkwardly and has to catch his footing before moving over to me. Some of the people redirect him as he veers off course from my location. He anxiously sweeps Teddy across the floor until it smacks against the front of my wheel, then chuckles, knowing very well what he'd just hit. "Told ya you'd say yes."

  I drop my gaze to the marble floor, not entirely sure what to say. "Yeah, well . . ." pausing, "after that parading display how could I refuse?"

  "And good thing, too. I was about to get on the local news and ask you on national telly."

  I laugh nearly to the point of my insides hurting. "And you would, wouldn't you?"

  A hush settles over the ballroom. Everyone stares at the two of us, as if we're suddenly the highlight of the moment. My laughter subsides, uneasiness retaking its place. I immediately regret accepting Calix's proposal. McKenzie, you're stupid! Why, why, why would you say yes? You're a plegic. You can't even twitch your toes.

  YOU CAN'T DANCE!

  Calix inches closer. "Hold this for me." He lays his walking stick across my lap and moves to the side of my wheelchair.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm going to dance with the prettiest girl I've never laid eyes on." I bite down on my lower lip.

  Calix leans over me, sliding one hand behind my back, while the other beneath my knees. I feel almost weightless as he lifts me from my chair and brings me in close; his barely-there muscles flexing from inside his tight-knit sleeves. He then gently lowers me down until my toes are resting atop his toes, and waddles us towards the middle of the dance floor. All other dancers form a wide circle, enveloping us inside.

  The warmth of Calix's breath tickles my ear. "You be my eyes. And I'll be your legs."

  And that was the moment my fear melted away. Those were the most perfect words I've ever heard. I don't care what embarrassment I may face; dancing with Calix is worth it.

  My reflections stares at me in his glasses. I wonder again what color eyes hide behind those dark shades. Without asking, I lift the glasses off his face.

  "What are you doing?" his voice laced with concern.

  Glasses off; a pair of pale blue eyes stare back at me. "Blue," I breath. "I've never seen you without your glasses."

  He clears his throat, turning his head from side to side nervously. "That's because I don't go anywhere without them. They're my shield, my protection." Exhaling unsteadily. "And now I don't have anything to hide behind."

  "Yeah, well, that wheelchair of mine serves the same purpose," stuffing his glasses in the front pocket of his suit jacket, whispering, "And now I don't have anything to hide behind."

  He smiles. "Touché, Milady. Touché."

  The ring of people encircling us blurs as the overhead lights dim. At that moment, the band starts playing Ed Sheeran's All of the Stars. My voice squeals with excitement. "I love this song!"

  "I know. When I was on stage I requested the band play it for us."

  The night is officially perfect. And for a moment, balancing on top of Calix's toes as he closely holds me against his chest, I nearly forget that I'm paralyzed. This whole scene feels like I've been transported into some sort of fairytale, except this princess doesn't have to leave at midnight. Nothing can ruin this moment. Nothing.

  I can't wait to tell Aurora!

  Chapter 32

  The whole way home I felt like a cloud, elated and a bit incredulous, trying to mentally relive each momentous second of tonight. For the first time in a long while, I felt normal, and yet, different. A different normal.

  It's early in the morning, the three-quarter full moon still looming amidst the stars. I lay in my bed, tossing, trying to shut down my excited brain. But to no avail, images of the dance and that perfect hour continuously flash through my mind.

  Huffing, I shove my body off the bed and onto my wheelchair, accepting the fact that I'm not going to fall asleep anytime soon.

  You be my eyes. And I'll be your legs.

  My lips spread into a smile as Calix's words float through my mind.

  "Tell me! Tell me everything." Aurora's excited voice fills The Bluff.

  "I don't even know where to begin," the smile still lingering on my face.

  "Start! Start anywhere. Blurt it out. But first, tell me it was magical." She plops down on the grass, facing me, eyes wide.

  "Yes. It was magical. Very magical."

  I proceed to tell her about the night's events; she squeals with excitement when I tell her about Calix getting on stage and asking me to a dance, then sighs with happiness when I tell her about how I balanced on the top of his toes as he waddled us around the ballroom floor. It wasn't the most normal way to dance, but we aren't the most normal of people either.

  "Look at you, Bestie, moving on through life like a pro," she taps her fingers on my leg.

  I look down at my wheels. "It's weird. Some days I don't mind being paralyzed, like I don't even notice it, and then there's days where I get so infuriated I don't even know if I can make it through the day."

  "You made it through this day," Aurora points out.

  "Yeah. But today was easier than most. Today was . . . magical. Tomorrow I'm forced to go back to reality, back to facing the fact that I'm still imprisoned within this chair."

  "It could be worse."

  Those words cause me to think of Kalyope. Guilt rises inside me as I realize I've neglected her. Finding a heart hasn't proven to be as simplistic as I initially thought, hoped. Though, I have one last idea, one last shot to accomplish the task I set out to do – the task of saving her life.

  But time is running out.

  After physically therapy with Desiree, mother comes to take me home, but I ask if we can stop at the hospital on the way. She spins around from the driver's seat, confusion mixed with curiosity is written on her face. Fortunately, she doesn't question my request.

  She pulls us up to the hospital's front curb and I tell her I won't be long. After moving through the entrance, I follow the series of hallways leading to the pediatric ICU. The brooding aura I felt when Calix first brought me here returns. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, hospitals aren't exactly known for their cheery presence, but nonetheless the feeling grips me and I can't shake loose of it.

  Up ahead, I see the red and white PICU sign on the wall. A female nurse marches in my direction, attention buried in a clipboard full of papers. She looks up, her steel eyes pass over me as she moves by. I shiver after she's gone. There was a frigid sensation in her gaze, one that makes me believe bad things have just taken place, like she's off to deliver the news of a passing family member. My heart thuds against my chest.

  Kalyope!

  I press harder against my push rims, spinning my wheels faster in the direction of her hospital room. I'm terrified of what I will find – or not find. Is she alive? Am I too late? A knot swells in the pit of my stomach. It seems like it's taking me forever to travel down the long, white hallway to
meet her. But I hear the unmistakable sound of the erratic beeping of the heart rate ECG moments before I enter her room. She's still alive!

  The door is already open, so I move inside the meager size room. Kalyope is lying in the hospital bed, the white sheets pulled up to her chin, skinny fingers curled around its edges. Her skin is ashen, all life drained from her face. The circles under her eyes have turned almost black now, like she's suffered extreme blunt trauma there. I nearly collapse in a puddle of tears right here and now, but I pull myself together, knowing that Kalyope needs support, not an emotional breakdown.

  "Hey, you." I attempt a smile, but it feels like it falls flat over my face.

  "Hi . . ." her voice is strained and weak.

  I sweep a concerned glance up and down her brittle frame. I'm shocked at how rapid her health has declined in less than a week. She didn't look so bad the last time I visited her; you could hardly tell she was sick. But now, aside from her copper-blonde hair that has somehow managed to retain its healthy glow, she truly looks like she's on her deathbed.

  "How . . . how are . . ." I can't finish.

  "Not good." She coughs hard, placing a tissue in front of her mouth. When the coughing subsides, I see dark red blots on the white tissue. "There's not much left for me here." It almost looks like she's trying to smile, but she's too weak, she can barely keep her eyelids open.

  My fingers clench around my armrests. I've wasted too much time. I'm . . . I'm too late.

  I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat beside me. I hadn't noticed the two people sitting in chairs squished together between the wall and medical counter. They introduce themselves as Kalyope's parents; both pairs of eyes puffy and noses a rough pink – from hours of crying I'm sure.

  Her father tells me they're here to spend the last few hours, days if they're lucky, with their daughter. He chokes up on his words, not bothering to finish as he breaks down into sobs. His wife, Kalyope's mother, buries her head in the crease of his neck, her shoulders bobbing up and down from muffled sobs. Pressure builds in my own eyes, only waning as the tears trail down my cheeks. I look over at Kalyope, I'm surprised to see she isn't crying, too – the hospital must have her on potent pain medication. She isn't doing anything, really; blinking only once every few minutes.