Locked Inside

by Annette Mori

  I appreciated how Quinn simply opened the door for me without saying anything or trying to take control by pushing my wheelchair. One day, I rolled to the rowing machine and considered my options. I wanted to use the machine, but couldn’t quite figure out how to transfer my body into the lower seat on the machine without toppling —that would be embarrassing. Once again, I heard the little commercial chant—Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down—and I laughed in my head.

  Quinn tilted her head and pointed to the machine.

  I nodded.

  Without saying a word, she lifted me from my chair and gently placed me on the rowing seat. I nodded in thanks and she took the cue to step away. I could strap my own legs in and she somehow knew that I didn’t want or need any further assistance.

  Even though using a wheelchair to get from one place to the next was definitely a workout, I wanted some type of aerobic exercise that would work on my core, including strengthening my stomach muscles. The rowing machine was my only option.

  I could feel Quinn’s eyes on me as I rowed. That very first day, I was exhausted after only ten minutes. As I paused to catch my breath, I felt her presence beside me. After I unlatched my feet, she lifted me back into my chair. I looked around the room trying to establish a reasonable workout regimen.

  Quinn sensed my indecision and said two words. “Trust me?”

  I nodded.

  Without saying much to one another, Quinn moved me to each piece of equipment, determining the right amount of weights, in the right order. She’d tell me the number of reps along with showing me the number with her fingers. You would have thought it cost her a thousand dollars for every word she spoke.

  I was so sore from that first day of working out, I debated going back the next day. Determination convinced me to go. I knew I would have to be strong in my upper body before working my brain to get my legs moving again. I still hadn’t found that path yet to unlock those messages from my head to my lower body. It was odd and I wondered if this was psychological in any way.

  “Coffee?” Quinn asked.

  I nodded. My arms were shaking as I started for the door. Quinn must have noticed as she walked behind my chair and pushed me out the door.

  “You’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’ll be here at eight again,” she offered.

  We didn’t talk much at the coffee place.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Quinn probed.

  I gave her the reader’s digest version and then asked her about herself.

  “Not much to tell,” she responded.

  We were quite the pair of friends—Quinn with her quiet ways and me with my tablet. Fortunately, Carly came bounding up to us after her first class.

  “Hey, Belinda, who’s your friend?” Carly asked.

  “Quinn.” Quinn stuck out her massive hand.

  Carly narrowed her eyes and if I didn’t know any better, I would think she was jealous. She smiled and offered her hand.

  “I’m Carly, Belinda’s roommate and best friend.”

  Quinn’s smile got wider as she heard the best friend introduction.

  I looked up to see an attractive woman with short blonde hair and piercing green eyes walk up to Carly and sling her arm around Carly’s shoulder.

  “Hey, you took off so fast after class—I didn’t get a chance to catch you. The club is having a mixer tonight. You interested?” the woman asked.

  She was looking at Carly with hopeful eyes. I knew it was irrational, but I didn’t like her right from the start. She was too cocky for my taste.

  “Oh, hey, Abbie. This is my roommate, Belinda, and her friend, Quinn.” The way she emphasized the word friend was odd. “Um, I don’t know, I was kinda planning on hanging out with Belinda tonight,” Carly said.

  Abbie looked at Quinn and me. “They can come too.” Abbie sized up Quinn. “It’s the LBGT club mixer, you’ll love it. We’re a great group to get to know.”

  Quinn nodded and looked to me for my reaction.

  I shrugged.

  “Great. It’s a date then. I’ll come pick you up at your room. Quinn, why don’t you meet Carly and Belinda at their room at about eight and we can all go together?” Abbie enthused.

  Carly looked at me. “Belinda, are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t about to let this piranha get at my beautiful roommate. I saw her undressing Carly with her eyes and my little green monster was acting up.

  “I have a few minutes before my next class. Do you want to join Belinda and Quinn for a quick cup of Jo?” Abbie asked.

  “Yeah, that’s sounds great.”

  The four of us sat and talked—well, they talked and we listened—for another half an hour. I surmised that Carly had already told Abbie about my limitations because she didn’t seem taken aback by my tablet communication.

  Quinn stood up and I realized how tall she really was. Quinn towered above everyone. I wondered if her reluctance to talk a lot had something to do with her size and wanting to fade into the background. I wanted to ask her about that. I wanted her to open up a little more and share herself with me, but I could be patient. Patience was my middle name—it had to be because my own progress was excruciatingly slow.

  “Class,” Quinn grunted and left after sending me her dazzling smile.

  “She has a crush on you in case you hadn’t picked up on that,” Carly whispered in my ear.

  I wrote, maybe, and left it at that. I didn’t want to make a big deal of things, but I did know and it made me feel good about myself.

  “Careful, Belinda. You shouldn’t lead someone on, it could hurt her,” Carly whispered a little louder.

  “What was that, babe?” Abbie asked.

  I’m sure the scowl on my face was evident, but Carly didn’t understand the origin. I guessed that she believed it was in response to her caution, when in fact it was in response to Abbie addressing her as babe. There was something else going on here and I was determined to find out when Carly and I were alone tonight before the big extravaganza.

  “Nothing. Hey, I gotta get to my next class.” Carly turned to me. ”I’ll be back at our room around two. You going to be back from class by then?” she asked.

  I shook my head. No. I have a therapy appointment this afternoon. Fran is taking me.

  “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Belinda, I forgot. Want me to skip class and take you?”

  Why in the world would I want that? Absolutely not. Fran has a completely open afternoon. I’m going to do some more research and find out about getting my own transportation to and from appointments.

  Carly frowned. “You know I don’t mind taking you.”

  I know. Go to class, you’re going to be late.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Abbie offered.

  I had to admit that Abbie and Carly made a stunning couple. I would get the full scoop on them that evening when I returned from therapy.

  †

  Fran had a date with Brad that evening so she dropped me off in front of my dorm without following me in. Thankfully, therapy today concentrated on the stubborn refusal of my legs to listen to any message my brain was shouting at them. It’s important to keep the blood flow going in all your limbs including the ones that steadfastly refuse to move, so the therapist concentrated on massage and his manual movement of my legs. My arms were so sore from the morning’s workout that I thought they might fall off. Lactic acid build up is a bitch.

  Carly noticed the grimace on my face as I rolled into the room. “You look like you’re in pain. Was therapy rough today?” she asked.

  No, but this morning’s workout was a bitch. Quinn’s a slave driver. I grinned to let her know I was joking.

  She didn’t register my response as a joke. “That giant Neanderthal. Wait until I get my hands on her. Can’t you wait until we can work out together?”

  Joking. She’s actually really helpful and I need to be pushed.

  “She’s gay, you know.”

  I nodded.

 
; “Abbie knows her from the club. Says she doesn’t say much. She’s kind of intimidating.”

  Don’t judge. I’m surprised you said that, I wrote.

  Carly frowned.

  She’s sweet, I added.

  “Yeah, sweet on you. She watches your every move, you know.”

  I shrugged. Harmless crush.

  “But you’re not gay. You shouldn’t lead her on.”

  I ignored her assumption. What’s up with you and Abigail?

  “Oh, Abbie. We met at the LBGT club booth when I signed up. She’s in my chemistry class.”

  How convenient. I suspected that even though I’d written it, the venom came through.

  “Now, who’s being judgmental? She’s sweet. We went out for coffee last week. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what it really meant. I guess she clarified that for me today.”

  So are you dating now?

  “I think so. I’m new to lesbian dating rituals. She hasn’t kissed me yet or anything, so I’m not exactly sure what it all means. I suppose I’ll figure it out soon enough. She’s cute, huh?”

  I guess so, if you go for that athletic girl next door look.

  “You know I do. When you get out of that chair, you’ll fall right into that category, athletic, smoking hot girl next door. Too bad you’re not gay. You are absolutely my type.” Carly grinned.

  In my chair, I wasn’t at all her type because I lacked the athletic requirement. The opportunity to fess up had come and gone with the introduction of Abbie into Carly’s life and my wheelchair limitation. I would have to let her believe that was true.

  I smiled back.

  “Oh, God. I have my first college date. What the hell am I gonna wear tonight. What do you think, Belinda? Should I dress up or go casual?” Carly opened her closet and peered in.

  She pulled out her blue, button down shirt—the one that brought out her eyes. She held it up for my inspection and I nodded.

  “Okay, now should I wear jeans or black pants?” she mumbled.

  As she was rummaging around in her closet, I tapped my tablet to get her attention.

  Jeans. I love you in your low-rise jeans. It shows off your ass, I wrote.

  “Are you sure you’re not a lesbian,” she joked and then turned back into the closet to pull out her jeans. “Okay, jeans it is then.”

  It was too much of a hassle for me to change, so I left what I had on after I’d showered earlier in the day and put on my school clothes. I liked my simple wardrobe of soft hemp clothes.

  I was getting used to seeing Carly half-dressed now and it didn’t affect me quite as much as the first time.

  Carly wriggled into her tight fitting jeans and finished buttoning her blouse. She stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked on the balls of her feet. I could tell she was a nervous ball of energy.

  “Should we go grab some dinner before the girls come to get us tonight?”

  I nodded. I was hungry but before we got a chance to leave, there was a knock on the door.

  Quinn loomed large in the doorway holding something in her hand that I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Quinn? I thought we were supposed to meet at eight?” Carly asked.

  Quinn lifted the bottle in her hand. “Sore muscles,” she explained.

  Her face was red. She was adorable when she blushed.

  I waved her in.

  Thank God, my arms are killing me, I wrote and held up my tablet for her to see.

  Encouraged by my response to her visit she came into the room.

  “Um, we were just about to get some dinner…” Carly interjected.

  “Ten minutes,” Quinn stated and sat down on the chair next to me.

  She squeezed a dollop of the lotion into her large hands, pulled up my shirt sleeves, and began massaging my arms. Whatever was in the lotion tingled on my flesh and invigorated my muscles. It felt fantastic. Besides my caregivers, Quinn was only the second person to touch me in a way that was not entirely therapeutic. While I’m sure Quinn intended for the massage to heal my sore muscles and release the buildup of lactic acid, I sensed it was a tad more than that.

  I didn’t know if Carly suddenly felt replaced but she did not appear happy by this latest turn of events.

  “I can do that,” she barked out.

  Quinn appeared to ignore her, but finally responded, “Almost done.”

  When she finished, I wrote, why don’t you join us for dinner.

  “Okay,” she answered.

  Carly was frowning again, but if she was going to date Abbie, I could develop a friendship with Quinn. There was no way I was about to be relegated to third wheel status—or in my case fourth wheel— as a wheelchair bound companion.

  Quinn looked into my eyes. “Better?”

  I nodded because my arms did feel a lot better.

  Quinn stood up and her commanding presence filled the room. She had a kind of energy about her that said I know who and what I am and no one is going to push me around. Not that Carly would ever push someone around, but her non-verbals were definitely screaming I don’t like this one bit.

  I touched Carly’s arm and grabbed her hand to settle her emotions. I squeezed once before letting go. It worked like a charm.

  “Shall we see what the café has to offer? You live in this dorm, right, Quinn?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Okay, let’s head on down then.”

  †

  We still had more than an hour to kill after dinner, so Quinn excused herself with a one-word response. “Homework.”

  Carly and I returned to our room and reluctantly opened our own books to study before going out.

  I didn’t take the bait and engage in conversation about Quinn when Carly made an off-hand statement about her. “She’s an odd one. Not much of a conversationalist.”

  Neither am I, I wrote on my tablet and then opened my history text to signal the conversation was through.

  She grumbled something I didn’t quite catch and grabbed her chemistry book to begin working on some problems.

  I was a fast reader and had finished all my work well before eight. I looked at Carly who had her tongue poking slightly out of her mouth in deep concentration. I watched her unobserved for a few minutes before picking up my e-reader and beginning a nice little lesbian romance book that I’d found on my own.

  Carly had absolutely no idea that my current pleasure reading was now almost exclusively lesbian romance novels. I’d decided to branch out into lesbian paranormal and mystery, but just hadn’t purchased one yet. I was amazed to learn that there were now literally thousands to choose from.

  There was a tentative knock on the door and Carly bolted from her chair, expecting it to be Abbie because Quinn’s visit earlier was not exactly timid. I was surprised to see Quinn at the door. It was apparent she’d dressed up. Quinn had flawless skin and naturally rosy cheeks, but I noticed the eyeliner, mascara, and light lip-gloss that accented her natural beauty. She wore a loose fitting silk royal blue blouse open at the top with drawstring black trousers. She looked positively yummy. Her bright blue eyes peeked out and she looked unsure of herself. She was shuffling her feet and I realized that she was nervous. Oh, my God, this was a date in her mind.

  I regretted not changing or putting on my own make-up.

  Carly waved her in.

  “You look nice. Abbie didn’t really tell me the dress code. I hope jeans are okay,” Carly remarked.

  Quinn shrugged, but didn’t say anything in response.

  As the door hung open, ready and inviting, Abbie swaggered in and kissed Carly on the cheek. “Hey, babe, you look scrumptious.”

  I had to agree with her.

  Abbie wore a tight fitting Henley shirt that showed off all her muscles. Her low-rise jeans hugged her fit body like they were designed for her. She looked good and I suspected she knew it.

  Suddenly, I was the odd person out in this little foursome. I felt homely and inferior. I would never rise to their brilliance
.

  Quinn shuffled in and said one word. “Beautiful.” She looked directly at me.

  I felt slightly better.

  †

  We’d barely made it inside the large warehouse like room, when Abbie grabbed Carly’s hand and dragged her onto the makeshift dance floor. “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga was playing and Abbie just had to dance to that song.

  Quinn and I found a quiet corner away from all the activity to people watch.

  I watched as my best friend and the person I was secretly in love with dance provocatively with what would soon be her girlfriend.

  Quinn found a chair and sat next to me. She was watching me follow Carly’s every move.

  “Why?” she whispered in my ear above the pounding bass in the music.

  I arched my eyebrow and wrote on my tablet, why what?

  “You and Carly,” she responded.

  I knew what she was asking. I decided not to play twenty questions with her. She doesn’t know.

  “That you’re gay or in love with her?”

  Both.

  She nodded.

  Why don’t you talk much?

  She sat there blinking at me and shrugged.

  I wouldn’t let her off the hook and drilled into her with my eyes, patiently waiting for her to respond.

  Finally, she whispered to me. “I take up enough physical space, I’d rather not take up the same conversational space. You?”

  It was probably the longest sentence she formed in the short time I knew her.

  Duh, I’m mute.

  She pointed to the tablet.

  I shrugged. I’ve never needed to. Others always fill the void.

  She laughed. “They do, don’t they.”

  I liked Quinn and I thought I could get her to open up.

  “Dance?” she asked.

  Wheelchair, I wrote.

  She chuckled and stood in one place as she moved her upper body to the movement, demonstrating how I could move to the music.

  I nodded and rolled out to the dance floor.