“Alright, awesome!” He said with a massive sigh of relief. His shoulders went down a notch; the tension and anxiety seemed to melt away. “So, is tomorrow at 11a.m. good for you. Can you be ready for then?”
“Sure! So, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early.
“Hahahahaha,” he guffawed with gusto. “Alright hun, before I leave, do you want my Facebook and email so we can keep in touch?”
I readied myself for his contact details. “Alright, so my Face book is Shay Ho and my email addy is shay.ho@gmail.com
“…@gmail.com. Yep, I’ve got it”.
He got up from the sofa, flashed his pearly whites and walked over to the bed. He opened his arms and bent down to give me such a warm, comforting hug.
“Bye sweetie,” He walked away. Feeling on top of the world, I was eager for tomorrow to come, I prayed hard for nightfall to cover us in a blanket of stars.
My mother sauntered in, pulling me out of my daydream. She asked if I was alright. “Of course, Mama. I’m fine”. The TV was muted on Channel E4. The new episode of the 100 was on tonight after Made in Chelsea. Everything was right as rain, as it should be. Settling into one hour of pure unadulterated entertainment, my pork chops, Irish potatoes and steamed vegetables were laid out nicely on the adjustable tray table. Munching away, chewing and gnashing, lost in thought, barely concentrating on the goings-on of the end-of-the-world vibe of the 100.
Drifting off to sleep after my tasty supper was necessary. My body felt like lead, my eyes heavy with sleep, tomorrow was another day with many possibilities. All I could think about was Shay. My last thought as my eyes flickered shut was I could not till morning comes.
“Time to wake up sweetheart”, my mother said while drawing the blinds. Sunlight rays poured in through the panes of glass. “You need to get ready for your shower. Before you take off your PJs, what would you like to wear today?
“Hmmm…let me think. I don’t want to be too dressy but I want to look nice. What about that sleeveless knee-length Ankara dress that Aunty Bukky bought for me the other day? Pair it with my sandals to complete the look. Exactemente, Mama!” Transferring to the commode was too easy. Using my knuckles as props, I shifted side to side pushing my buttocks along just like the physiotherapists taught me.
The lukewarm water cascaded down my body, whilst using the blue hand sponges to wash away any dirt on my skin. Thirty minutes later, I was dressed. MAC penultimate liquid eyeliner, kajal eyeliner, and MAC currant lip liner gave me a simple, natural look. Smelling of 212, I transferred into the passion fruit manual wheelchair with relative ease. Patiently waiting to be picked up by Shay, twiddling my thumbs nervously and touching the curly strands of my pineapple updo. Thankfully, my afro was not giving any hassle that day. It looked exactly the way I desired.
Shay strolled in with his OT gear looking all cute and adorable. “You look very nice”, he said, with a wide smile. “Why, thank you very much”, I said in my best Elvis impersonation. We both chortled at my silliness. We left my room and waited for the lift and rode down to the basement. Again, the faint whiff of chlorine was pleasant as we passed the hydrotherapy pool. Eki was in there with a multiple sclerosis patient from the sixth floor. She waved and winked at me. I smiled to myself.
The kitchen was empty and had that just polished look. The red and white checkered tiles, the wooden cupboards and the oval marble dining table had a cosy, homey feel. There were little, quirky knick knacks scattered on the walls along with funny quotes about food. Jamie Oliver and Barefoot Contessa recipe books were lined up on the windowsill. The flowery curtains were drawn shielding the room from natural light. Shay walked straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains. The warmth from the English sun was a lovely way to start the day. I went over to the window and shut my eyes, focusing on the rays of light. My skin felt good and I just enjoyed the silence. We just let the comfortable quietness bathe and wash over us. The whole world seemed right; the moment was utter perfection. Right in those few minutes, nothing was wrong or out of place. Shay’s hand slipped into mine. It was so nice having a friend.
Finally, we freed ourselves from the hand holding and rolled over to the countertop where all the ingredients were meticulously laid out. “Alright, you mix everything as I pour the stuff in. “I’ll handle the mixer while you clean up.” We were like a well-oiled machine. Gisting about art, Ancient Roman and Greek gods, the American War of Independence and other significant historical events. We both loved anything created and written by Shonda Rhimes as well as the awesomeness of the first 15 minutes of The Newsroom. To put it simply, anything by Aaron Sorkin was out of this world.
Our conversation flowed like it was the most natural thing in the world. We jumped from one topic to another in perfect synchronicity. The memory of her was now a distant one and Shay made sure the subject was never mentioned. We were both thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. In a world of our own, unaffected by outside influences. We were very aware of each other. Shay had travelled and backpacked through Pyongyang and Hong Kong. He could speak 5 languages including Spanish and Mandarin.
The cupcakes were put into the oven and he sat down next to me. Next thing I knew, he had flicked icing onto the tip of my nose. I retaliated by flipping icing on his forehead with the plastic spatula. He got up suddenly and said “You are so dead”. Responding with certainty, “not if I can help it,” We chased each other round the kitchen. He ducked behind the table. “Oh, no fair, you know I can’t reach that corner or go under the table. You play dirty, my friend. You play dirty.” Shay smirked with an extremely proud look on his face. He came out with a blob of icing ready and waiting to be flung.
“What about if we call a truce?” I said partly because I had no desire to wash goop out of my hair. Shay just had to wash it out with shampoo and he was good to go. “Truce? Yeah I don’t think so. You are so dead mate”, I said, while laughing. Too much fun was being had. It was like we have been buddies for years. He winked and I nearly melted into a puddle on the floor Wizard of Oz-style. “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot,” he said.
“I won’t,” lying, with no intention of letting him go. None whatsoever. I feigned a truce-like position so I could catch him off guard. Muttering to myself, I gave him my most innocent smile. “I’m coming out now”. Before he knew what was going on, throwing out some vanilla icing that landed smack dab on the tip of his nose. He tried to lick it off with his tongue which I found hilarious because he was trying to do it cross-eyed. He looked like an adorable little kid; it was beyond endearing. He held up his hands in defeat and sat down at the table. I wheeled over to him and wiped of the icing with a napkin. He smiled at me, whispered the words “thank you so much.”
Bing. The cupcakes were ready. “How do they look?”
“Really good,” I said.
As we cleaned up the kitchen, we spoke in Spanish. We talked about Barcelona and how talented Gaudi was. We also talked about the 100-year-old church and how amazing the architecture was. Our mutual love of art was another cool thing about our budding friendship.
Shay’s phone rang. “Excuse me, whilst I pick this up. Suddenly, Shay broke away and jumped back with no prior warning. Getting me out of my reverie was no small feat. “What? What happened? What’s wrong?” enquiring with a puzzled look on my face.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “This is wrong. I could lose my job if anyone finds out. I can’t believe I did this. I’m so sorry”.
“Oh my gosh. What about Kaya? Shit. What have I done?”
He got up abruptly and walked to the other side of the room. His scratched his head and wrung his hands. His shoulders were tense. I could sense his frustration, confusion and perplexity. He refused to look at me. He started muttering to himself. Pacing up and down by the fridge, he would pause as if another bewildering thought had just occurred to him, then he would resume striding across the kitchen in an anxious manner.
My lips tingled. I could barely think straight. My head felt like it was immersed underwater. Shivering from head to toe, I tried to wipe the memory of the kiss but I could not. Thinking to myself, I felt like there were still fireworks still going off in my mouth; my tongue was doing a happy dance. I felt like I was suspended in mid-air floating on a fluffy white cloud. Things could only get more complex from this second onwards. The desire to stand up and walk over to pull him to a comforting hug was overwhelming. All I wanted to do was assuage his fears and tell him everything was alright. However, I knew that statement was false. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Wheelchair Girl 
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