Chapter 37: Kirby
“So I’m coming a day early. I’ll be there Wednesday.”
I nearly choke on the bottle of water I’ve been drinking from. That was the last thing that I expected Ted to say when we started our FaceTime conversation. The worst part is that since it’s Facetime, he can obviously see my face. And probably can see the horrified expression on it.
“This Wednesday?” I manage.
He frowns at me. “The interview got moved up a day. What’s the problem?”
I touch my face instinctively, wondering if there’s any sign of beard burn from the kiss between me and John last night. Just the thought of it sends a tingle through my lips. Hell, through my whole body. If he hadn’t put a stop to it, I’d still be at his home right now.
After I got home from John’s apartment, I masturbated. I thought of John’s lips and his handsome face and his smile and those almond eyes. I thought about being able to touch him everywhere. Then I came. Fast and hard.
“That’s wonderful,” I say.
Ted’s still frowning. “You don’t look like you think it’s wonderful.”
“I do,” I insist.
Although part of me wonders why I’m bothering. I should just end it with Ted right now. After all, how can I marry another man when I feel the way I do about John? It’s ridiculous. Clearly, I was kidding myself when I thought we knew each other well enough to get married.
Then again, I love Ted. At least, I think I do. We’re engaged. I told him I was going to marry him. This must just be a case of cold feet. I wouldn’t have agreed to spend the rest of my life with a man I hardly knew just because I was lonely and all my friends were getting married around me.
At least, I think I don’t think I would.
Would I?
God, I’m conflicted. I sent John a text message, just to try to talk things out, but he hasn’t responded. He probably hates me now.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m just a little shaken because… well, I got mugged last night.”
Ted’s blue eyes widen. “Are you serious? What happened?”
I tell him the whole story about the mugger shoving John out of the way and demanding my purse. I omit the events of the night that occurred after I went home with John.
“Jesus,” Ted breathes. “I’m so sorry that happened, Kirby. I… I wish you hadn’t been all alone with John. I wish I could have been there to protect you. John obviously can’t.”
My cheeks burn. No, John couldn’t protect me last night. But emotionally, there was no one else I would rather have been with after something scary like that.
Chapter 38: John
My shoulder is better.
Well, not entirely. It still hurts like hell during certain movements, but then again, it was like that before. So it’s back to its previous level of shittiness.
I’ve been resting for the last few days, letting the aides do all my transfers for me, and hardly wheeling at all. The former hasn’t been so great, but the latter is even worse. The fact that my shoulder has been killing me and I use a manual wheelchair means that I’m essentially homebound. I can’t go anywhere if I can’t wheel myself. A friend invited me to dinner and I had to say no because I didn’t want to push my chair. And while my shoulder is better than it was, I’m starting to realize that it’s never going to be as good as I want it to be. As good as it needs to be.
So that’s why in the half hour before my night aide Rachel gets here, I’m on the computer, looking at wheelchairs. Because the one I’ve got now isn’t working for me anymore. I’ve got to upgrade or downgrade or whatever the fuck you’d call it when you realize your shoulders don’t work well enough to push a chair anymore.
It all boils down to two choices. I can opt for the power wheelchair with a joystick control, which means I would just need one working arm to get around. The other choice is adding power-assist wheels to my current chair. That means I’d be able to stay in the manual wheelchair, but the wheels would have a motor that would give me a boost every time I pushed.
I want the power-assist wheels. It means I’d be able to stick with my same chair, and I wouldn’t have the stigma of being in a giant power wheelchair. But at the same time, there are issues. The wheels with motors in them aren’t light—popping them off to get into my car isn’t going to happen so easily, so I might have to trade my car in for an accessible van. I’d also have to make damn sure those wheels get charged overnight, because if they die on me, they are going to be like two rocks on my wheels that I can’t push. On top of that, they’re expensive as hell. The insurance will probably cover it, but it’s going to take a shitload of paperwork from myself and my doctors.
Which is fine. I’m used to navigating this mess we call health care in this country. But the thing is, if my shoulders deteriorate more in the next few years and I really need a power wheelchair (which—let’s face it—is inevitable), it’s going to be damn near impossible to get them to cover an entirely new chair after they just paid for expensive new wheels. So part of me feels like I should stop being so goddamn vain and just get the power wheelchair now, since I’m going to need it soon anyway and it will save my shoulders.
It’s not like it’s going to put a crimp in my social life.
I hear a knock at my door—that’s Rachel, come to help me with my bedtime routine. At this point, I could probably manage it by myself again, but it’s already been set up and I could use a few more days to rest my shoulder. I told Rachel I’d leave the door open for her, but I guess she forgot, so I yell out, “Come in! It’s open!”
I hear the doorknob turning as I study a picture of a compact power wheelchair that doesn’t look too crazy. It isn’t even any wider than my manual chair and it has a really good turning radius. It’s well reviewed. Maybe I should just suck it up. I could still keep the manual chair around to use sometimes. Like if I’m on a date.
“John?”
I look up and my heart sinks when I see Kirby standing in front of me. What the fuck? I quickly close the picture of the power wheelchair on the screen like she caught me looking at porn.
“What are you doing here?” I manage.
Kirby shifts between her feet. She looks so freaking cute today, it’s killing me. And what sucks the most is I can tell she’s trying to dress down. She’s wearing her blue jeans and a baggy sweatshirt and her hair is in messy pigtails, and all I can think about is kissing her. It’s physically painful.
“You haven’t returned my texts,” she points out. “And you didn’t answer when I called you.”
“I returned your text,” I say. I wrote back. Once. She said a fucking million times that we should talk, so I wrote back: Nothing to talk about. Everything’s fine. She wants to make sure I didn’t take things the wrong way and that I’m not going to wreck her wedding. I get it.
“You blew me off.” She folds her arms across her chest. The sleeves of her sweatshirt are too long, coming down to her knuckles, like she’s wearing Daddy’s shirt.
“I just don’t see what there is to talk about,” I mumble. I look up at her, shifting in my wheelchair, trying to sit up straighter. This is so fucking embarrassing—I’ve been trying to avoid this awkward conversation all week, and here she is, in my apartment, leaving me with no option.
Kirby blinks her big eyes. “I feel like we need to talk about… what happened.”
That’s the trouble with women. They always want to talk about shit until you just want to slit your wrists. We both know what happened. Why do we need to talk about it? Also, I’d rather she get out of here before Rachel comes. I don’t need her to know that I hired someone to get me in and out of bed.
“It was a mistake,” I say before she can. I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I get it.”
“John…”
“I won’t tell him.” And this is what she wants to hear. That’s why she trekked all the way over to here. To get reassured I won’t fuck up her wedding. “It’s between you and me,
okay?”
Kirby squeezes her small fists together. “You really think it was a mistake?”
Jesus Christ, what does this girl want from me? I’m giving her an out. Does she want me to admit that I love her? That I can’t stop thinking about her? That I would eat her cupcakes for every meal for the rest of my life, even if I’d die from malnourishment? That there’s nobody I’d rather watch a John Waters movie with? That Ted can’t appreciate her a millionth as much as I do?
“Yeah,” I say, practically choking on my words. “I mean, you were freaked out about the mugging and so was I. It didn’t mean anything.”
She should look relieved, but somehow she doesn’t. I was expecting her to smile and say, I’m glad we had this talk. Instead she looks like she’s about to cry. I don’t understand women at all.
Chapter 39: Kirby
John is saying that it was all a mistake. That the kiss I can’t stop thinking about was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything. Why is he saying that? Is it because he thinks that’s what I want to hear? Or does he mean it?
God, I’m confused.
“Anyway,” John says, “you should probably go.”
He shifts in his wheelchair and I see him wince. His shoulder.
“You know,” I say, “that Ted is coming to visit, right? He’ll be here on Wednesday.”
He flinches. “Yeah, I know. I’m picking him up at the airport.”
Ted will be here in a few days and I’m not sure what to do. Regardless of what happens between me and John, I’m beginning to feel like my engagement to Ted is a mistake. I got caught up in the excitement of it all and I was infatuated and yes, lonely, but now I’m starting to realize that Ted isn’t the right guy for me. I’ve always believed that there’s one person for everyone, and when I look at Ted, I don’t think he’s The One.
Scratch that. I know he’s not The One.
And I’m sure if he thought about it, he’d realize I’m not his One either.
“You guys will have a great time,” John says.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
He nods in the direction of the door. “So… um…”
He wants me out—that much is obvious. I’ve spent a lot of time with John recently and I’ve never sensed so strongly that he wanted me to leave. His lips are in a tight line, and he’s got his eyes on the door.
And that’s when the handle on the door turns and the door opens up.
It’s the last thing I expected, but John doesn’t seem the least bit surprised when a skinny, dark-haired girl strides into his apartment with a broad smile on her face. The girl is wearing slim-fitting jeans that show off her perfect legs and tight little ass, and she’s wearing a fleece over a tank top. She grins at John and tosses her handbag on his kitchen table. “Hello!” she chirps.
Oh God, no wonder he wanted me out of here. He has a date. With someone far more attractive than I am.
The girl looks me over, her eyes clouded with confusion. “Hi…” she says slowly. “I’m Rachel.”
“I’m Kirby,” I say. I glance at John, who is biting his lip, and quickly add, “I’m a friend. Just a friend.”
“Oh.” Rachel is frowning, which is understandable. That’s how I would look if I showed up for a date and there was another woman there. “So…”
“I’m leaving,” I say. “I just came to… drop something off. And now I’m leaving.”
I look at John, whose brows are scrunched together adorably. How the hell didn’t I realize he had a girlfriend? Why didn’t he tell me before I made a complete ass of myself?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I… I’ll see you when Ted gets here.”
I hurry out of the apartment, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. How did I misinterpret everything so badly?
Chapter 40: John
Fucking Ted.
He’s sitting next to me as I drive back from Newark Airport, looking out the window and smiling in that Ted-like way of his. Like he’s a guy who’s got everything going for him, which he does. He’s got a successful career, which I can’t begrudge him because I know he’s a smart bastard and I’m not doing so badly myself in that department, but he’s also marrying the greatest woman in the whole world. He should be smiling.
“How was the flight?” I ask.
“Could have been worse.” Ted retrieves his phone from his pocket and starts fiddling with it as he talks to me. “I was sitting next to a big fat guy, but at least the stewardess was cute so I got to flirt with her.”
I don’t know what to say to that. If I were engaged to Kirby, I’d never flirt with another woman. I’d never even look at another woman.
Ted gazes down at his phone. “Hey, what would you say to dinner with Kirby?”
I nearly start choking. I don’t know how I thought I’d manage to avoid her with Ted in town. “Um… aren’t you tired?”
He shrugs. “Not really… I’ve just been sitting on a plane.”
I find flying to be the most exhausting thing I can think of. Of course, I have to be the first one on the plane and go through the ordeal of being pushed onto the plane by a flight attendant in a stupid narrow wheelchair, while I say a prayer to the gods that my own chair will make it to my final destination. Ted looks more like he just got out of a spa. Every blond hair on his head is perfect and his clothing isn’t even rumpled. How the hell do you sit on a plane for six hours without getting so much as a wrinkle in your shirt?
“Anyway, it’s three hours earlier in my head,” Ted continues. “The night’s young!”
I don’t want to have dinner with Kirby. Not now. Not ever. I need to get that woman out of my system. “I think I’ll pass.”
“I thought you liked Kirby, didn’t you?” Ted presses me.
You have no idea, Teddy…
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I say.
“Fine!” he snorts. “Come on. She’s better than fine. She’s perfect.” He laughs to himself. “Okay, she’s maybe ten pounds shy of perfect. I could use a little less junk in the trunk. But she’s very, very close.”
I take my eyes off the road to glare at Ted. Kirby doesn’t have too much junk in the trunk. Her trunk is fucking perfect.
“She doesn’t seem much like the girls you usually date,” I comment.
“Yeah…” Ted hesitates. “She isn’t my usual type, but… I don’t know. Lately, all my friends have gotten engaged or married, and I feel like it’s time. And Kirby seems like someone who’d be a really good wife—I mean, she loves to bake and shit. And she… well, she’s got a wifely face.”
“A wifely face?” I repeat. What the hell is he talking about?
“You know.” He shrugs. “She’s nice looking but not too sexy.”
Kirby is so goddamn sexy. Is he out of his mind?
“But you love her, right?” I press him.
“Of course I love her!” Ted frowns at me. “What kind of question is that? I’m marrying her. Why would I marry a girl I don’t love?”
I’m sure Ted loves her. Kirby’s hard not to love. What I’m really wondering is whether he loves her as much as I do. I can’t imagine it.
“I just meant… you haven’t known her very long,” I mumble.
“Right, but…” He smiles that confident Ted smile. “Sometimes you just know immediately. Right?
Right.
“How about you, Johnny?” Ted pushes some of his too-long blond hair off his forehead. He’s dangerously close to having an old school Justin Bieber cut. “You seeing anyone?”
I shake my head no. “Not right now.”
As if I was just dating someone last week and I’m just waiting for someone to take her place. As if this was just a temporary issue that would shortly be resolved.
“We’re going to change that at the wedding,” Ted tells me. “I’m going to seat you at a table full of gorgeous ladies. You’re going to be up to your eyeballs in pussy, Johnny.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s okay. Really.”
“I mean it,”
Ted says. “I’m sure that we can find a girl to go home with you.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “There’s gotta be one girl at the whole wedding with really low standards.”
Ted is quiet for a minute. I knew what he was getting at and I called him out. Even back when we were college and I didn’t have the chair, he was better at getting girls than I was. I was shit at it. But he never would have said something like that before. Back then, my awkwardness around girls was funny. Now it’s a touchy subject.
“John,” he begins.
“Forget it.” I cut him off before he can launch on a motivational speech. “Believe it or not, Ted, I’m happy being single.”
“Yeah, of course,” he says in this patronizing voice.
“Hey,” I say, “at least I don’t have to fly across the whole country to get laid.”
My comment breaks the tension and Ted laughs. “Well, she’s worth it.”
Yeah, she is. I’d fly around the world if it meant I could be with her.
“So how about dinner?” Ted says.
I shake my head. “Another time. It’s… been a long day.”
“Kirby will be disappointed,” Ted says.
Something tells me she won’t be.
Chapter 41: Kirby
When I see John’s car pull up in front of the Italian restaurant, my heart sinks. Even though I knew John was picking Ted up at the airport, I’d been hoping he wasn’t going to join us for dinner. I can’t deal with having dinner with John. I can’t even look him in the eye right now.
All I can think about right now is I wish we hadn’t kissed. Yes, it was the best kiss I’ve ever experienced. But at the same time, it’s wrecked one of the best friendships I’ve ever had. I miss hanging out with John. It’s obvious things aren’t going to be the same after this.
The Best Man Page 16