finally look away and break the silence.
“Well, I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, so…” I let out a schoolgirl giggle, and the corners of his mouth reluctantly lift.
We eat the breakfast we made together: scrambled eggs with bits of bacon, onion, peppers, and a bit of cheese, buttered toast, and fresh squeezed, orange juice.
“Can I help you dry the dishes?” Logan asks.
“That’s very diplomatic of you, but no, thank you. If I let you get too independent, you might not need me anymore.”
We laugh, but his is somehow…off.
“So, what’s this surprise you’ve brought me?” he asks. I can tell his curiosity is piqued.
“I’m so happy you asked.” I move toward the front door and reveal a thin box. “This was part of my revelation, which you so wonderfully pointed out was not a word.”
“Revelation is a word, revelationary, is not.”
I wave him off and continue. “After an incident that happened over the weekend, I got to thinking about your mobility, or lack thereof. I watched several videos on the internet and discovered ways to enhance your life.”
He sighs, looks down, and rubs his forehead.
“Elora—”
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” I interrupt, “but, you don’t have to go anywhere. I’m going to be your in-house therapist.” I smile broadly. I can tell he’s not impressed, so I open the box and pull out the contents. “It’s a transfer board!”
“I see that,” he says, solemnly.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I’ll show you what I’ve learned, and we’ll practice together.” His expression is unsure. “Okay, I’ll go first.” I drag a kitchen chair to the middle of the living room, then position another next to the first. I sit on one, and place the board between the two. Trying not to use my legs, I gently slide across the board onto the other chair. “There! Now, it’s your turn,” I say. He doesn’t move. “Come on, Logan. You have to at least try it.”
“I really don’t want to. I’m fine just sitting in this chair.” He gestures toward the wheelchair.
“But, you can’t stay in that your whole life. What if you want to go to a restaurant? How will you get yourself into their dining chair?”
“I won’t, because I don’t go out.”
“I’ve noticed. Why is that?”
He sighs again, rubbing his forehead even harder.
“I just don’t like to, okay? Can we just stop this now?” His voice is irritated, and I can tell he’s trying to reign in his temper. He turns abruptly, wheeling himself away from the chairs, and down the hallway, toward his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, I soon hear something being thrown against a wall. It makes me jump. I guess I pushed too hard. Defeated, I place the board back in its box and put it in the front closet.
It’s nearly lunchtime, but I haven’t seen Logan since he stormed out after my attempt to teach him transfers. I raise my fist and knock gently on the door.
“Logan? Lunch is ready,” I say quietly. I hear silence. Should I knock again? Will he get mad if I do? I lean against the wall, next to the entrance to his room. I’m contemplating what I should do, when the door opens. His face is apologetic, so I give him a small smile. “Are you hungry?” Again, my voice is small. He says nothing, just nods, then begins to roll in the direction of the kitchen.
We eat in relative silence, which feels awkward. I want to tell him I’m sorry, but the truth is, I’m not. He needs to be pushed. He told me that himself, and if he’s going to get along in this world, he has to try. I open my mouth to tell him just that, when he speaks up.
“I’m sorry I got upset with you. I know I told you to push me, and I’m sorry I was so resistant to that. You did nothing wrong, yet I got angry with you, and you didn’t deserve that.” He finally looks at me. His expression is bleak. “I apologize. Please, stay.”
I try to keep my face as neutral as possible, but it’s hard to
“Well, I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, so…” I let out a schoolgirl giggle, and the corners of his mouth reluctantly lift.
We eat the breakfast we made together: scrambled eggs with bits of bacon, onion, peppers, and a bit of cheese, buttered toast, and fresh squeezed, orange juice.
“Can I help you dry the dishes?” Logan asks.
“That’s very diplomatic of you, but no, thank you. If I let you get too independent, you might not need me anymore.”
We laugh, but his is somehow…off.
“So, what’s this surprise you’ve brought me?” he asks. I can tell his curiosity is piqued.
“I’m so happy you asked.” I move toward the front door and reveal a thin box. “This was part of my revelation, which you so wonderfully pointed out was not a word.”
“Revelation is a word, revelationary, is not.”
I wave him off and continue. “After an incident that happened over the weekend, I got to thinking about your mobility, or lack thereof. I watched several videos on the internet and discovered ways to enhance your life.”
He sighs, looks down, and rubs his forehead.
“Elora—”
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” I interrupt, “but, you don’t have to go anywhere. I’m going to be your in-house therapist.” I smile broadly. I can tell he’s not impressed, so I open the box and pull out the contents. “It’s a transfer board!”
“I see that,” he says, solemnly.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I’ll show you what I’ve learned, and we’ll practice together.” His expression is unsure. “Okay, I’ll go first.” I drag a kitchen chair to the middle of the living room, then position another next to the first. I sit on one, and place the board between the two. Trying not to use my legs, I gently slide across the board onto the other chair. “There! Now, it’s your turn,” I say. He doesn’t move. “Come on, Logan. You have to at least try it.”
“I really don’t want to. I’m fine just sitting in this chair.” He gestures toward the wheelchair.
“But, you can’t stay in that your whole life. What if you want to go to a restaurant? How will you get yourself into their dining chair?”
“I won’t, because I don’t go out.”
“I’ve noticed. Why is that?”
He sighs again, rubbing his forehead even harder.
“I just don’t like to, okay? Can we just stop this now?” His voice is irritated, and I can tell he’s trying to reign in his temper. He turns abruptly, wheeling himself away from the chairs, and down the hallway, toward his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, I soon hear something being thrown against a wall. It makes me jump. I guess I pushed too hard. Defeated, I place the board back in its box and put it in the front closet.
It’s nearly lunchtime, but I haven’t seen Logan since he stormed out after my attempt to teach him transfers. I raise my fist and knock gently on the door.
“Logan? Lunch is ready,” I say quietly. I hear silence. Should I knock again? Will he get mad if I do? I lean against the wall, next to the entrance to his room. I’m contemplating what I should do, when the door opens. His face is apologetic, so I give him a small smile. “Are you hungry?” Again, my voice is small. He says nothing, just nods, then begins to roll in the direction of the kitchen.
We eat in relative silence, which feels awkward. I want to tell him I’m sorry, but the truth is, I’m not. He needs to be pushed. He told me that himself, and if he’s going to get along in this world, he has to try. I open my mouth to tell him just that, when he speaks up.
“I’m sorry I got upset with you. I know I told you to push me, and I’m sorry I was so resistant to that. You did nothing wrong, yet I got angry with you, and you didn’t deserve that.” He finally looks at me. His expression is bleak. “I apologize. Please, stay.”
I try to keep my face as neutral as possible, but it’s hard to
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