My mother takes the cue and grabs the food for me. The whole thing isn’t helping me prove my point that I can live independently. Again, if I hadn’t switched over to my walker, I’d be fine. I would have just put the food in my lap.
“Matt,” Mom says as she unpacks the food for me onto my dining table. “Look, enough of this. You’re coming home. End of story.”
I stare at her. “And what gives you the right to tell me where I get to live when I’m an adult and I’ve got a job that pays the bills?”
“Matt, look at you!” she cries, slamming down a container of shrimp lo mein. Her hands are trembling and she looks like she’s about to cry. It almost makes me feel guilty about the whole thing. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you have a severe disability! You can’t manage on your own anymore. You need our help.”
She’s wrong. I don’t need her help. But what I do need is my goddamn wheelchair.
“I’m adjusting,” I admit.
“We’ll give you your privacy,” Dad said, switching to a different tactic. “We’ll convert the den to your bedroom and we won’t help you unless you need it. But if you do need it—for meals, laundry, bathing…”
“Bathing!” I feel like I’m going to have a stroke. “Dad, I can bathe myself. I don’t need your help with that.”
My father looks baffled. “How?”
“I’ve got…” Christ, I don’t feel like explaining my bathroom set-up to them, including the bench I have running across the tub so I can sit down while I shower. “I just do. Okay? I mean, do I look like I haven’t had a shower in six months?”
My parents exchange doubtful expressions. This is getting insulting.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I say something I regret. “I know you’re worried,” I say quietly. “But I’ve got everything under control here.” When they still look skeptical, I add, “And if that ever isn’t the case, I promise I’ll let you know. I swear.”
That will never happen though.
It’s a subdued meal after that. But the good news is that neither of them say another word about my coming to live with them. I know they haven’t accepted it yet, but they will eventually. It’s not like when I’ve been in this chair for ten years, they’ll still be trying to talk me into moving in with them.
Wow, it’s hard to imagine having been in a wheelchair for ten years. Then again, it’s also hard to imagine being forty.
I usher my parents out as soon as I possibly can. The last thing my mother says to me before I practically shove them out the door is, “We’re here for you, Matt.”
It’s sweet, even if I really, really don’t want their help.
I get back in my wheelchair the second they’re gone, and the relief I feel is palpable. It’s amazing how much I’ve come to rely on this chair—it’s so much easier than walking. I don’t even hate it anymore. It gives me so much more freedom in so many ways.
For example, when my cell phone starts ringing across the room from me, I don’t need to feel a sense of urgency and panic that there’s no way I’ll make it over there in time. In my chair, I can make it across the room in a few seconds, the way I used to. Especially after I had Erin’s husband rearrange the furniture for me to make it easier to get around.
Then I see Anna’s name on the cell phone screen and any temporary sense of well-being vanishes. Is she calling to end it once and for all? I can’t imagine that after our disaster of a date, she could be doing anything else.
“Matt.” She sounds breathless when I answer the phone.
“Uh, hey, Anna,” I say. “Are you okay?”
She takes a second, gulping for air. “I got rid of them.”
What? Rid of who? Does Anna think she accidentally killed someone again?
“Rid of who?” I ask carefully.
“Whom,” Anna corrects me.
“Huh?”
“You would say ‘rid of whom,’” she says. Good, glad we cleared that up. “But actually, it’s not ‘whom,’ it’s ‘what.’” She pauses. “I got rid of my cans.”
“What?”
Anna got rid of her cans? Anna without her cans would be like… Penn without Teller. It would be like Mozart without a piano. Like Calvin without beer. Or like Anna without her cans.
“You couldn’t get inside,” she says simply. “So I boxed them up and brought them to the food pantry. They were very grateful for the donation!”
“But,” I sputter. I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Did you get rid of all of them?”
“Yes,” she says, although now her voice sounds uncertain, as if she’s not sure she’s done the right thing. I hope she doesn’t start freaking out. “I had to do it. If you can’t come over because of the cans, then I had to decide between you and the cans. I choose you, Matt.”
“Well, that’s flattering,” I say, not entirely sarcastically.
She’s quiet for a minute and I’m worried that I offended her. You never know with Anna.
“I did it because I love you,” she says softly. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I want to be normal. I never cared before that everyone called me Crazy Anna and that I spend two hours cleaning my house every day. It never bothered me. But…” Her voice breaks on the words. “The truth is that after you asked me to dinner that time, I started seeing a therapist. To get treated. I’m taking pills every day so I can try to be normal. I want to be normal so that I can be with you, Matt.”
My breath catches in my throat. I had no idea about any of this. I was so furious at Anna that day she blew me off. I didn’t realize it upset her as much as it upset me. Christ, she went on medication for me? That’s… unbelievable.
“Anna,” I say, “I don’t want you to be normal. I love you because… you’re you. It would kill me if you stopped being you. I don’t need you to take pills.”
“I need them,” she says so firmly that I know I won’t be able to argue with her. “I… I’m aware that I have an illness and the pills are helping me get better. It’s just that… I wish they worked better. I’m not sure if…” She pauses, struggling to get control of her voice. “What if I freak out every time you come into my house? What if I can’t kiss you without having a panic attack?”
“You already kissed me,” I point out.
“It was hard for me though,” she admits. “Matt, what if I can’t… what if I’m never able to…”
“I’ll still love you, Anna.” I grip the phone in my hand. “Whatever you can give me, I’ll take it. Obviously, I want to kiss you and hold you and all that, but really, I just want you.”
I can’t believe I’m saying those words. Me—the guy who used to label women with a number and refuse to have anything more than a one-night stand. But none of that made me happy. Anna makes me happy. I want Anna. I love Anna.
“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday,” she murmurs. “I wanted so badly for it to be a wonderful evening.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Me too.”
We’re both quiet a minute. I grip the phone tighter, imagining that I’m holding Anna in my arms, wondering if that’s something that can ever happen. I’ll take what I can get, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want all of her.
“Do you want to come over here?” I blurt out.
She hesitates before replying, “Over there?”
I plow on, before I can second guess myself. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow night. I’ll clean the place, get dinner for us. It’ll be great. Something different.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Come on, Anna,” I say gently. “It will be fine. I’ll be here the whole time with you.”
“And what if I need to leave right away?” she says softly.
“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll try again another time. I can be patient.”
I don’t know if my other senses have gotten stronger as my legs have gotten weaker, but I swear I can almost hear Anna smiling on the other line.
“Okay,” s
he says carefully. “I’ll come over.”
Pray for us.
Chapter 67: Anna
Matt has invited me over to his apartment. I don’t know if I’ve got enough Xanax to make me feel comfortable with that.
During the entire drive to Matt’s apartment, my hands are shaking so badly, it’s difficult to control my vehicle. I am practically hyperventilating. I brought along my bottle of Xanax and I pop two of them in my mouth. I stash the rest in the glove compartment—it wouldn’t do to take so many that I can’t drive home.
I get out of the car, and I notice an attractive middle-aged woman sitting on the front porch, drinking a beer. I’m assuming she’s Matt’s landlady. She eyes me suspiciously when I park next to her home and get out of the car.
I’ve only just gotten out of the car when the woman sprints down her steps, looking decidedly irritated. She looks me over, in my clean white blouse and black pants. “What are you selling, girlie?” she asks me.
I have no idea what she’s talking about. I collect myself enough to reply, “I’m not selling anything.”
The woman narrows her eyes. “Who are you looking for then?”
I throw my shoulders back. “Matthew Harper.”
Part of me is hoping she’ll tell me I have the wrong house, even though I can see Matt’s car in the driveway.
The suspicious look fades and her eyes widen. “Oh! Are you a nurse?”
I shake my head no.
She keeps looking at me like she can’t quite figure it out. Then a smile twitches at the corners of her lips. “Wait… are you… Matt’s girlfriend?”
My cheeks grow warm. My fingers itch for that bottle of Xanax. I hate to admit how much it helps. “Yes.”
“Well, good for him then!” She grins at me. “It’s about time. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him sneaking in here in the same clothes from the day before.”
I feel my cheeks turning pink at her inference.
“Aw, look at you blush!” The woman slaps her thigh. “You’re a cute one.”
“I’m going to see Matt now,” I tell her.
“Of course,” she says quickly. “I’m Rosie, his landlord. So if you have any troubles or need anything, just let me know.”
I will absolutely not let her know, and I hope to never have a conversation with this woman again. Especially now that I haven’t even entered Matt’s apartment yet and I’m already drenched with perspiration.
Matt opens the door for me, standing up with his forearms laced through crutches. When he sees the look on my face, he frowns. “Well, you seem thrilled to be here.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, although my feet don’t budge.
“I got the place cleaned yesterday,” he says to me, removing his hand from one of his crutches to gesture behind him. “Deep clean, top to bottom. You couldn’t find a speck of dirt if you tried.”
“I bet I could.”
Matt grins. “Okay, I bet you could too. But I promise it’s clean. Will you come inside, Anna?”
Having never been inside a man’s apartment, I hadn’t known what to expect. Honestly, I’d been expecting the furniture to be strewn with jock straps and boxer shorts, with empty pizza boxes littering the floors. But as promised, Matt’s apartment is incredibly clean. The furniture is sparse and simple, probably to allow room for him to navigate his wheelchair, and I’m impressed with the level of organization.
As Matt follows me around as I take a brief tour of his living room. It’s weird to see him walking again, the two of us eye to eye, since he now uses his wheelchair every time he’s at work. I can’t help but notice that in the brief time since I’ve last seen him walk, he’s gotten even worse. Each step seems to be a struggle for him.
“Why aren’t you in your wheelchair?” I blurt out.
Matt looks at me in surprise. “I… I don’t know. I thought you preferred this.”
“You aren’t comfortable walking though.”
His eyes darken. “I’m comfortable. What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re just not very good at walking anymore.”
Matt is outright glaring at me now, although I’m not sure why. He clearly feels more comfortable in his chair. But I suppose he’s still sensitive about the whole thing.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You can use whichever you want—crutches or wheelchair.”
His shoulders sag and the anger dissipates from his face. “No. You’re right, Anna. This has become hard for me. I just… I guess I thought maybe you’d like me better this way.”
“I don’t,” I assure him. “It’s actually very hard to watch.”
Matt rolls his eyes as he allows himself to collapse onto his couch. “Gee, thanks.”
I sit down next to him. I realize that I haven’t had any signs of panic in the last several minutes. Maybe I’m all right here. Matt’s apartment doesn’t frighten me. I actually feel quite comfortable here.
Or maybe it’s Matt that makes me feel comfortable.
Or the Xanax.
“Do you want to watch something on television?” he asks me.
I glance over at Matt’s big screen TV, then back at Matt, who is squeezing his hands together anxiously. He looks more nervous than I am. I’m not sure why. Matt doesn’t get panic attacks, at least not that he’s told me about.
“Actually, I’d like to kiss you,” I tell him. “With, you know, tongue.”
Matt stares at me for a second, his brown eyes growing wide. He acts like I’ve said something incredibly shocking, although I don’t believe that I have. I am his girlfriend, after all. It’s only natural that I’d want to kiss him. With our tongues.
“I have to admit,” Matt says, “nobody’s ever said those exact words to me.”
“They don’t?” I ask. “Then how do they say it?”
He shrugs and smiles. “They don’t. We just… do it.”
“Oh.” I squeeze my hands together. They feel very sweaty. “I’m sorry. I just… I’ve never…”
Matt is looking at me curiously. I’m terrified to admit my secret to him, but at the same time, his kind brown eyes make me feel like I could tell him anything. After all, he knows everything else about me.
“I never kissed a man before,” I admit. “I mean, before you.”
I thought he must have been able to guess it by now, but he obviously couldn’t. He looks completely stunned by my revelation. He stares at me, his mouth hanging open.
“Christ, Anna…”
“I’m sorry.” My hands are outright shaking now. I tap my finger against my knee eleven times. “You know that being close is… hard for me.”
“Yeah, but I thought everybody…” He shakes his head.
I shrug, trying to play it cool when I’m feeling anything but. “Apparently not.” I glance at the door. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to stay.”
“Anna, come on.” He frowns at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s fine that you’ve never kissed anyone before. In fact, it’s sweet. I like that I get to be the first. It’s just… a lot of pressure.”
“Pressure?”
He nods. “If this is no good, then you’re going to think all kissing is no good. You might hate kissing forever because of me.”
“It will be good,” I say.
“I like your confidence,” he laughs.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to do it for about seven years.”
Matt runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no pressure there.”
I frown. “I’m sorry. Did I ruin the moment?”
“You…” He seems at a loss. “No, you didn’t ruin the moment. I’m just trying to figure out how to be romantic here.”
I’ve made him nervous—I can see that by the awkward half-smile on his face. And somehow, that makes me feel less nervous. When I look down at my hands, I see they aren’t shaking anymore. Maybe it’s just the medications kicking in.
Either way, I manage to work up the courage
to lean forward and kiss Matt myself.
And it is a lovely kiss. I feel his lips soft against mine and the stubble of his five o’clock shadow graze my chin and his hands coming around to lace into my hair. Even though I asked for a kiss with tongue, he waits a long time before I feel even the tip of his tongue against my lips, then asking tacit permission to get inside. And then it’s a real kiss—my first. The one I’ll always remember.
And it’s perfect. Because it’s with the man I love.
Chapter 68: Matt
I’m supposed to go to Anna’s house today.
I’ve been there multiple times since that kiss we had at my apartment. She had a ramp installed to get to the front door, and it’s much easier to navigate with all those cans gone. She even widened the doorframe to the bathroom. I can tell she prefers being in her own space, so I don’t mind going over there.
Things are going better with Anna than I could have hoped. We still haven’t gone past first base, but I wouldn’t have expected us to. I know relationships are unfamiliar territory for her, and the truth is, they are to me as well. Before Anna, I hadn’t met a girl in a long time that I’d wanted to have a relationship with. Most of the time, I’m thrilled just to be with her. Touching her and kissing her—well, that still floors me.
I’m supposed to be at Anna’s for “brunch” and she freaks out if I’m late, so I set my alarm to make it on time. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning these days is reach for my wheelchair. I don’t even contemplate whether I want to be on crutches or my walker today. It’s always the wheelchair now. It’s just so much easier.
Today when I rub my eyes and sit up in bed, a question occurs to me:
When is the last time I’ve walked?
I didn’t walk yesterday. I was at work, and when I got home, I was too tired. Did I walk the day before? I went to Anna’s and I wouldn’t have been walking at her house. So… no.
Shit, how long has it been?
Crazy in Love (Matt & Anna Book 1) Page 21