by Vera Hollins
He wore all those designer clothes to school, while, I was willing to bet, their fridge was emptier than his head. I was repulsed that he was so shallow, selfish, and preoccupied with his image, when he should be using that money to pay for his brother’s care.
Following my hourly ritual, I took out my phone and checked for any messages from Steven. I found another gigantic nothing, and out of helplessness more than anger, I typed him a message.
“At least dignify me with a response so I know you’re alive, you supreme leader of idiocy.”
I hit “Send” and pushed my phone back into my pocket, fighting against all the worst-case scenarios swarming my mind. If this continued, we would have to call the police.
Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think about chopping Barbie into pieces, selling those pieces on the black market, and getting a lot of money to help the children in developing countries.
I rang the doorbell and called a smile to my face, tapping my fingers against my thigh as I waited. It was unusually warm today, and I appreciated how softly the sunrays fell upon my exposed skin. They contrasted the ice I wore inside.
The door opened, but instead of Mawar, I was looking at Eli, who had stopped his wheelchair a bit too far back from the door for him to have been able to reach the handle.
“Hey, General Fabulous! You didn’t tell me you’re a wizard! You absolutely must share your secret with me because I want to open doors without touching them, too.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, his cheeks reddening. “It’s automated.” He motioned with his head at the small button on the wall next to him. “This way I can open it on my own.”
“Wow. I need that for the days I feel lazy. Or when I want to prank my friends. Imagine their faces when they see a door open by itself.” I laughed and stepped in. “Does it come with a remote?”
He shrugged his shoulder and pressed the button to close the door. “I don’t know.”
“If they haven’t already invented it, now’s the perfect time for me to patent that and earn loads of money. Then you and I can run off to Vegas, bet it all on one roulette spin, and become richer than the Kardashians.”
“Or lose everything and go live under a bridge,” Eli said, barely audible. He looked away shyly, like he wasn’t sure if I was going to find him funny.
I chuckled as I leaned closer to him, covering the side of my mouth with my open hand. “Some sources say I’m pretty good at betting,” I whispered, and then winked at him. “I helped my brother win a few times.”
He raised his brows. “But that’s illegal.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. But hush now. I don’t want to corrupt young, innocent children. Let’s forget I ever told you about it.”
“Told me what?”
I barked out a loud laugh. This kid was amazing. A little bit shy and serious but nevertheless amazing. He was wearing a T-shirt today, which exposed his skinny but wiry arms. His waist and upper body weren’t as thin or bony as I’d imagined they’d be, because I’d been under the impression that all quadriplegics had no muscle tone at all.
“Where to?”
“I’ll show you my room. Follow me.”
“Yes, sir!” I saluted him.
As I followed him, I thought about the right way to interact with him. I knew how to interact with Mr. J.—like never dropping to his eye level to talk to him because he found it demeaning—but how did Eli feel about that and other things?
“Mawar is not here?”
“No. I’m always alone this time of day.”
Alone. A word that was veiled with dejection, and my chest hurt hearing it. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be dependent on a wheelchair to have even a fragment of freedom. To be betrayed by your own body, and no matter how much you wanted to break through the wall of paralysis, you couldn’t. Your body didn’t listen, and you couldn’t just stand up and walk again.
I squeezed my hands into fists, sending the message to my brain to shut up, because the path my thoughts were following always led to something ugly—something I didn’t want to revisit.
He wheeled into his room and moved to the side to let me enter. I took in everything as I stopped in the doorway, my eyes widening. His room was another revelation because I hadn’t expected it to be so large and filled with new, expensive furniture and fancy gadgets.
His bed was beside a large window with the blinds pulled down, and close by was his long, wheelchair-accessible desk, which held his computer and various adapted modern devices. A big flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall, and a wire ran down to a PS4 with a modified controller sitting atop a tall TV stand. Right next to that were wrist weights, dumbbells with and without straps, and resistance bands, all of which explained his muscular bicepses and toned forearms.
I smiled when I spotted the toy race cars scattered on the wall shelf. A few logo stickers for different car brands and photos of cars racing on tracks decorated his walls. I moved to look more closely at the toy cars, deliberately ignoring the photos of him with Barbie on the bottom shelf.
“You’re a fan of racing.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly with his gaze set on his lap. My heart clenched. I wanted to ask him if he wished he could race, but I didn’t.
“Your room is so clean. You should see my brother’s room. It’s a complete mess, and I’m pretty sure it’s infested with deadly bacteria. And don’t get me started on the smell.”
He uttered a small chuckle, but then his serious expression returned. “Mawar cleaned it yesterday, so that’s why it’s so clean. How old is your brother?”
I sank into a green beanbag chair in front of the TV. “He’ll be nineteen in two months. He’s ten months older than me, but he acts like he’s ten years younger.”
“I also have an older brother. He’s two years older than me, but he acts like he’s way older. It’s like he’s my dad sometimes.”
I gaped at him. Barbie acting like an adult? Impossible. “I bet he’s a pain in the ass,” I said before I could stop myself, but he didn’t take offense. He nodded.
“Sometimes, but he’s the best brother in the world. There’s no one better than Mace.”
Something unpleasant bubbled in my stomach. I wanted to correct him so badly, to shatter his image of his brother and show him the truth. “He’s not that great.”
A crease formed between his brows. “What do you mean?”
Shit. Now he looked like I’d kicked him. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him the truth all at once. Maybe I should shatter his illusion one piece at a time.
“Nothing. Don’t listen to silly me. Anyway”—I motioned around his room—“you have an impressive setup here, buddy. It’s nothing like what I imagined.”
He closed the door with a little wheelchair-maneuvering and moved to his desk. “What did you imagine?”
“I don’t know. I guess I expected something out of a hospital? Too stereotypical and ignorant, I know. You also surprised me because you can move your arms.”
His lips formed a half-smile which vanished two seconds later. “Yeah, I get that a lot. With my level of injury, I can move my arms, but I can’t move my fingers at all.” He raised his closed hand, showing me his unmoving fingers. “See?”
“But then how do you manage to . . . I don’t know, eat?” I raised my hands in the air in apology. “Just know I can be nosy like nobody’s business, and I barely scratched the surface of quadriplegia when I late-night watched YouTube videos, so if you don’t want me to ask questions, speak now or forever hold your peace,” I said the last part solemnly, with my hand pressed against my chest.
He shrugged his shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t mind questions, so you can ask me whatever you want. I eat using a spoon or fork, like everyone else, but since I can’t use my fingers, I had to learn how to use a fork with a grip.”
He dragged a pencil to the edge of his desk with his right fist and extended his wrist to get his fingers around the pencil. With the help
from the thumb of his other hand, he managed to get ahold of the pencil and close his fingers around it.
He raised his hand. “This is how I hold the fork. Thanks to my strong wrist extensor, I can hold it when I’m gripping it like this. And if I’m using a spoon, I use a hand strap.”
I whistled. “Now, that’s amazing! And the way you do it makes it seem like it’s a piece of cake.”
Red spread across his cheeks, his eyes downcast. “Yeah. But it took me a lot to be able to do it. I still can’t do many things, but at least I’m not completely dependent on others.” His voice was even, but I detected a slight undertone of hurt.
“And can you feel any pain?”
“I can feel it in my head, neck, shoulders, and some parts of my arms.”
“Not in your legs?” He shook his head. “So, if you hit your leg . . .”
“I don’t feel any pain, yeah.”
I grinned. “It must be so cool to not feel any pain. My knees and toes hurt like a bitch whenever I run them into something. I would gladly get rid of that feeling forever.”
“It’s actually not so cool. Pain signals there’s something wrong with your body, right? But since I can’t feel it, I can’t know if something is wrong. I could have a nasty injury, and I wouldn’t even know it. That’s why I can get a really high blood pressure, which is life-threatening by the way. So, yeah, not cool at all.”
“Ouch. That sucks big time.”
He nodded; his face didn’t give away how he felt about it.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked. “What do you usually do?”
He gestured toward the paused YouTube gaming video on his monitor. “I usually watch YouTube or play PS4, but if you want, we can watch a movie.”
“That’s a fabulous idea, General Fabulous. Do you want me to fetch us some drinks and snacks?”
“Sure. You can find a can of Pringles in the upper kitchen cabinet.”
I stood up. “Mawar told me about your diet. Are potato chips really okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t eat them often, so it’s okay.”
“All righty then!” I saluted him, and then, in the Terminator’s voice said, “I’ll be back.”
I closed the door behind me and crept down the hallway, expecting Barbie to pop up in front of me any second now. My blood simmered under my skin, my body switching to battle mode.
I peered into the living room, but it was empty. With a relieved sigh, I continued on to their kitchen, which was the size of a shoebox and contained only the most basic, old appliances. Their fridge was way smaller both in width and height than mine and certainly not made in this century. I held my breath as I opened it, prepared to see it empty.
But it wasn’t empty. It was filled from the bottom to the top with food and drinks, and I exhaled in relief because they could at least afford to have good nutrition. I took the drinks and Pringles and returned to his room.
Since we both liked horror movies, it didn’t take us long to settle on The Ring. However, I’d seen this movie at least three times, so I spent more time studying Eli than paying attention to it. From time to time, he shifted in his wheelchair and stretched, doing pressure relief, as he told me, to prevent getting pressure sores from constant sitting.
I took off my hat to him for trying to make the most out of his condition and be independent. He was showing that having a disability didn’t mean he had to be helpless, but I didn’t know what to think about his emotional state.
He’d barely smiled since I’d arrived. His lips were drawn into a tight line more often than not, and his eyes held a deeply-rooted sadness that seemed larger than life. Those eyes were a door to the nothingness he held inside, something I knew and understood very well.
I wanted to make him laugh.
I wanted to see his eyes shine.
I wanted to make him happy, smile by smile.
Starting now.
I pulled a face at him, and he frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to make you laugh, because you’re too serious and you’re reminding me of the Grinch. If you keep it up, you’ll be stealing Christmas in no time!”
I stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes to the back of my head.
“Come on. You know you wanna laugh.” I twisted my face into an even funnier expression, and his lips twitched. “Come on! No one died! Except my butt whenever I have diarrhea. Believe me, my butt is dying a thousand deaths every time I have those nasty waterfalls.”
In spite of himself, he gave a brief snort of amusement.
“You wanna see how it looks?” I stood up and did a wide squat. I moved my ass from side to side, my face drawn into the most ridiculous expression of pain. “Ow!” I howled. “My poor butt! It’s dying! What am I gonna dooo?”
His chuckles morphed into hearty laughter, and I stared at him, transfixed, frozen in that weird squat.
He looked exactly like Barbie when he laughed, with those dimpled cheeks, squinting eyes, and larger-than-life laughter, and it was cute—
No. No, Barbie wasn’t cute. Eli was. Barbie looked like a strangled chicken when he laughed—
“What the fuck are you doing here?” a voice boomed from the doorway, and the hairs on my neck bristled.
I straightened up and turned around. Barbie stood at the threshold, his hand gripping the doorjamb, and a sliver of fear tore through me. His eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen, his face shaded with boundless hatred. He radiated danger and rage that could eat me alive, but I wasn’t one to let that frighten me or eliminate my free will.
I stuck my chin out, planting my hands on my hips. “What does it look like? It’s not as though I’m going to harvest his organs to sell on the black market.”
Looking ready to throw me out by whatever means necessary, he charged at me, but Eli positioned his wheelchair next to me.
“Mace, what are you doing?” he asked, all traces of laughter gone.
I gave Barbie the stink eye, furious that he’d destroyed the teensy progress I’d made with Eli.
“What is she doing here?” Barbie directed his question at Eli, but his gaze was locked on me.
“She’s from Student Code.”
Barbie glanced at him. “She’s that girl?”
Eli nodded.
Barbie ran a hand through his hair and let out a humorless snort. “I don’t believe this.” He glared at me. “You came here on purpose.”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh! Of course I came here on purpose. What did you think—that I just crawled in here randomly, for no reason?”
He took another menacing step toward me, looking furious. “Don’t fuck with me. You came here to hurt me using my brother, but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d let you to do that. My brother is off-limits, got it? Now get out of my house.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. What idiocy is this, you moron? You’re giving yourself way too much credit. Here’s a news flash—the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Barbie’s eyes turned into two glaciers, and he took another step toward me, but Eli wheeled in between us. “Mace, why are you acting like this?” He looked at each of us, seeming confused and insecure. “You two know each other?”
“Know? We can’t stand each other,” Barbie bit out, his nostrils flaring. “I should’ve known you would manage to worm your way in here, too. Whichever way I turn, there you are. Don’t you have anything better to do with your pathetic life than get in my way?”
This stupid, infuriating motherfucker. I hate him so much!
“As I said, you’re giving yourself way too much credit. I didn’t even know you had a brother! And you wish I give a damn about you.”
He leaned over Eli and got in my face, pointing at the door. “Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
I jutted out my chin, red overlaying my vision. I was going to punch this motherfucker if he didn’t back off. “No. And. Fuck. Off. I don’t care what you say. I’m here to stay.
“Guys, I’m here too,” El
i said in a muffled voice below us, and I winced, realizing only now he was sandwiched between us. Shit.
Both Barbie and I pulled away at the same time, the tension in the room simmering and ever-present.
“Sorry, Eli,” Barbie told him. “I just . . .” He ran his hands through his hair and cast another glare at me. “You see what you made me do? Because of you, I—”
“Mace,” Eli interrupted him. He was staring at his lap, his whole face red. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but Melissa . . . she’s nice. And I want her here. So don’t argue, all right?”
My anger dissipated somewhat as I stared at this sweet angel with an ache in my chest. I didn’t even have it in me to gloat that he was on my side, moved by his vulnerability.
Barbie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “She’s not nice. She’s trouble. We’ll ask for someone else in the program. Anyone but her.”
I put my hand on my hip. “Why, you should be happy, Barbie. After all, you’re the one who got me in trouble in the first place. You know what they say—you reap what you sow.”
He pointed his finger at me. “No, you got yourself in trouble. I didn’t tell you to punch your brother. I didn’t tell you to get all aggressive with me. This is all on you, and if you think I’m going to let you come near my brother, think again.”
“I don’t want someone else,” Eli said quietly as he raised his pleading eyes to Barbie. “I had fun with Melissa today. Please, let her stay.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t blurt out at Barbie all the curses that were running through my mind.
“Do you even have a heart?” I asked Barbie in what I hoped was a calmer voice. “No, of course you don’t, because if you did, your brother wouldn’t have to beg for something that’s actually his choice. Not yours. If he wants me here, I’ll be here, and you can piss and moan all you want, but you won’t stop me.”
Barbie looked between me and Eli with clenched hands, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. The vein pulsated along his clamped jaw in the prolonged silence, and I could almost taste the sweetness of victory.