“Greg, you know I appreciate it, but it's not like your house is really equipped for a cripple.”
I heard Nicole huff at the word.
“Why don't you quit trying to come up with excuses and let me worry about that?” he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at me.
I sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to back down, so I agreed. He nodded in satisfaction and then went to talk to the principal about getting my schoolwork to Nicole so I could graduate on time. As Nicole wheeled me down the walkway toward the car, I tried to figure out just how in the heck all this was going to work. Even once they got me and the chair into the house, there was only the one bathroom, and it was on the second floor. I could just stay in Nicole's room, which sounded mighty fine to me, but the hallway was narrow. Would the chair even fit through it?
Nicole steered me next to the passenger side of my Jeep, which she drove because the Hyundai had finally died on her. She then told me to stay put while she dragged Greg away from the school principal. I sat there feeling kind of numb and wondering just what the heck the future was going to look like.
“Thomas?”
I didn't recognize the voice, but as soon as I looked up, I knew exactly who he was.
It was like looking into some kind of fucked-up mirror that would show you how you were going to look twenty or so years into the future. Same color hair that didn't seem too interested in staying where it was put, same eyes, and he even stood the same way I did—rocking back and forth from one foot to the other. He looked nervous.
“Thomas Gardner,” I said softly, and his eyes widened.
“You know who I am?” He sounded shocked.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“I didn't realize…I didn't know he told you…about me.”
“He didn't,” I clarified. “I found a letter you sent.”
My stomach felt weird, like it was all tied up, or maybe I had just been sitting too long. Thomas Gardner ran his hand through his hair, and I had to stop myself from laughing. It was just too surreal.
“Look, um…Thomas,” he said, “I know you're going through all kinds of shit right now…”
He smacked his hand on his forehead.
“Fuck! I shouldn't swear in front of you!” He realized his second mistake and cringed.
I couldn’t help but laugh at that point, and he smiled sheepishly.
“I just wanted to meet you…maybe talk to you?” The poor guy looked terrified, and I felt sorry for him as he stammered through his words. “I heard about…I mean, I saw the news report about…about your dad. I didn't know if…well, if you knew…shit.”
He shook his head violently.
“I'm already fucking this up,” he mumbled.
“It's okay,” I said.
He looked at me intently for a minute.
“I didn't want you to be alone,” he finally said. “We don't know each other, but I…I…I just wanted you to know…shit.”
I smiled again, turning away a bit so he wouldn’t notice.
“Can we talk?” he asked. I looked back to him. I was pretty sure we already were. “I mean, away from here? Maybe get coffee? Do you like coffee?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Coke or something? And not now—I know not now—but I have a hotel room in town. I'll stay as long as I have to…I just…wanted to see you. Talk to you.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “that would be okay.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised, and his mouth turned up into an all-too-familiar half-grin. He dug around in his pocket and handed me a partially crumpled business card. “Whenever you're ready, just call and…I'll come get you…oh, shit…my car probably isn't big enough…shit!”