Wheelchair Girl

"SelKontan," Cory gargled back to her.

Four eyes flew open, staring at each other in the dark.

"Did you...?"

"Yes, I said happy, and then you said so happy," Jamie responded, not needing him to finish the question. "At least those were the emotions behind it. I don't know the words, yet I do."

Cory nodded, then reached over for his Kindle. Trying different phonetic versions of what they'd just uttered in Google translate brought zero response.

Frustrated, he closed the tablet. "It has to be a dead language or an unknown culture."

"I knew it. A stubborn Neanderthal who wouldn't leave a poor wheelchair girl alone. Gonna club me over the head and drag me into your cave?"

Cory chuckled, "Tempting, but right now, I'm tired. Let's get some sleep and explore it more in the morning."

Cory had the wheelchair chasing dream several times that night. This time, he caught the chair. It was Jamie, her voice plaintive with need. "So many years. Where have you been? Promise me you'll never leave me again!"

When Cory woke up in the morning, the vivid dream ran through his mind. It had been so real he almost had to pinch himself to prove he was awake. That being said, he knew one thing.

He'd sworn an oath several times last night to never to leave Jamie again. And meant it!

Over breakfast, they discussed the strange events of the evening, seemingly unable to come to any conclusions. Cory pulled out his Kindle and looked up 'Lovers In A Past Life.' He read it out to Jamie.

"Are You Past Life Lovers?

You Connect Instantly.

You Feel a Connection Through Time and Distance.

You Anticipate Their Moves.

You Feel You Belong Together.

You Share Unexplained Past Memories Together.

You Have No Problem Sharing.

You Notice Time Doesn't Exist Around Them."

"We seem to have a lot of those things happening," said Jamie.

"We do," Cory agreed.

Jamie brought something up. "You know when we first met, you told me your Fiancée had dumped you. I was so focused on that; telling me you were here to celebrate your birthday went right over my head. I hope it hasn't passed."

"Geez, I'd forgotten about that. It's tomorrow, the sixteenth."

Jamie stared at him. "Cory, I didn't come here to celebrate Valentine's Day. I'm here to celebrate the last birthday I expect to have. It's tomorrow, the sixteenth! We have the same birthday!"

"Let me guess, you're twenty-eight too."

Her face turning white was answer enough for him. "Look, I don't understand all these weird events but let's forget it for the rest of our vacation. We can solve it all once we get home, okay?"

"Sure," she answered. Cory was too distracted to notice the lack of conviction in her words.

They had a fantastic time for the rest of the vacation. The hotel made a massive birthday cake and fed all the diners on their special joint birthdays. They got tons of invitations for drinks, meals, tours and beach time. They spent hours making love. By the time the plane landed, Cory was almost ready for a vacation from his vacation.

Through customs and out in front of the airport, Cory wheeled Jamie into the handicapped zone.

"Wait here, I'll go get my car."

Jamie waved to one of the drivers for the disability-equipped vans. "It's okay, Cory. I'll take a cab home."

"A cab? Why would you do that?"

"Look, Cory, it's been a great vacation fling, but we're back now, and my life is headed in a different direction than yours. You need to find yourself a nice woman and settle down. You've got a life to live; I have different plans. You're a great guy; some woman will be lucky to land you." She couldn't stand to look at his face, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears. She tried to pretend her own didn't exist.

"Don't do this, Jamie; you know it's wrong," he whispered. "I love you!"

She steeled herself. "I don't love you. It's better this way. In a while, we'll forget about each other." She waved the driver over. "Can you load me, please?"

The driver came and collected her and the suitcases, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Jamie couldn't wait for the cab to pull away from the curb. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Shame ran through her like a hot knife through butter. She'd done the shittiest thing she'd ever done in her life. After everything Cory had done, he didn't deserve it. She'd acted no better than his Fiancée in dumping him with no notice. She'd outright lied to the man that she loved more than anything by denying that love. He knew that wasn't true.

She burst into tears, disgusted with herself.

The cab driver studied her for a moment, then the young man still standing back on the curb staring after the cab.

"If you don't mind an old man saying so, Miss, I pick up a lot of people at the airport and see a lot of these vacation romance breakups. And one of two things always happens."

"What's that?" she sniffled.

"If it's a casual fling, the dumped party turns around and leaves almost right away. If it's serious, the dumped party will stand there staring after the cab till it disappears. And Miss, he's still standing there."

"Oh, Cory," she wailed, tears spilling out, twisting to look back at a forlorn figure still standing there.

"Would you like me to swing back and pick him up, Miss?"

"You don't understand, driver. I'll be dead in six months. I can't put him through that agony."

"That's sad, Miss. Does he know that?"

"Yes!"

"And yet he seems pretty willing."

She had to change the direction of this conversation. Wiping her eyes, she checked out the driver's cab license.

"Gordo12, that's a very unusual name?"

He chuckled, "I blame my parents. They had me when all the robot movies were popular. Names like R2D2, 3CPO and Johnny 5. They seemed to think there was a coming revolution and decided to include me in it. It turned out to be a good thing, though. Customers always remember my name and ask for me when they want a trusty cab driver. The tips from repeat customers are good."

They chatted the rest of the way, and Gordo tried to keep it light. He wheeled his distraught passenger inside when he dropped her off and got her set up at the kitchen table. Taking a moment to fill the kettle, he made some tea for her. It wasn't his typical service, but he couldn't deny she was grief-stricken.

With her taken care of, he said his goodbyes and let himself out. His last sight was her sitting there, staring out a window with tears streaming down her face. Such a beautiful young girl to be dying so young, but then he wondered if she wouldn't die of a broken heart first. To find somebody you loved so much and be forced to give them up because you're dying. He shook his head, fighting tears himself. Some days, his job was shitty beyond belief.

**********

A light tap on his door interrupted Dr. Wilson from his never-ending patient updates on his computer.

"Come on in, Millie." With no patients due for another fifteen minutes, only she would be disturbing him.

She looked kind of flustered when she opened the door. "Doc, sorry to do this; I know you're busy, but there's a young man here, and I really think you should listen to what he has to say."

Doc sighed. Millie was the best assistant he'd ever had. She wouldn't ask something like this unless it was important. He looked at the computer and the never-ending paperwork all those reports demanded. He saved his work and clicked it off. That was the thing about never-ending. It never ended anyway, so a few minutes wouldn't matter.

"Send him on in, Millie."

Listening to the earnest young man in front of him, Doc's dread grew. This represented one of those ethical violations that could cost him his license if he wasn't careful. And yet, the patient involved and her mother had pissed him off to no end for wildly different reasons. The patient's stated intent of dying when he'd told her technology was close to solving many of her problems gnawed at him. Hell, in ten years, she'd probably be walking around healthier than a horse with a new cloned kidney. Her stampede to the boneyard was unreasonable, in his opinion. Too many of his patients had already died from the lack of transplants.

After listening, Doc gave it some thought. There was no doubt the young man was madly in love with his patient and determined to save her. It was a one in a million shot, but what the hell. It fit Doc's temperament perfectly. The young man made one small personal request that Doc agreed to honour.

"I can't confirm or deny that we have such a patient, you realize. But if I was to do a test and there was a match, you would be willing to donate a matching patient a kidney?"

"I would!"

Doc wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clicking on his intercom, "Millie, can you bring me a bloodwork kit?"

"Okay, so the process starts with bloodwork to determine compatibility. Would you roll up your sleeve, please?"

"How long does all this take, Doc?"

"There are three tests, and the results can take up to three to six months."

"But she...!"

"I know, I know, I'll make things happen," then he cursed internally, realizing he'd inadvertently given something away.

**********

Three weeks later, Doc scanned through the paperwork in front of him. He'd pushed the limits by having all three tests done at once instead of checking for one before proceeding to the next.

He angrily hissed to himself, "Imposs..., I've nev...!" He sat back, thinking. The odds were either a billion to one or...? With a sudden realization of what this might mean, his rage erupted.

"That goddamn fucking Bitch," he screamed, throwing his coffee cup to smash against his door.

Millie cautiously opened the door taking in the coffee splatters on the wall and shards on the floor. Doc was angrily pacing in front of his desk. She'd never seen him like this.

"Doc?"

"Sorry, Millie. I lost it. Would you call the hospital and arrange an operating room for a transplant for Jamie? Then phone her and give her the details. I'll take care of Cory. Then phone Jamie's mother and tell her I want her in here, no if, ands, or buts about it, the day before Jamie's surgery."

World's worst mother or not, there was no reason not to push forward with this transplant.

**********

The woman waiting in the patient room was twisting a handkerchief around in her fingers. Her eyes were red and weepy.

"Do you know what's happening?" Doc asked.

"Jamie said she's getting a transplant."

Doc nodded. "And there are things about this transplant that go back to what you've been hiding from her all these years. It could affect her future severely. I need you to tell her."

'I can't, Doc," she cried in anguish. "She'll hate me, and the other stuff could get me charged."

"That was twenty-eight years ago. Nobody is going to give a shit. Isn't your daughter's health more important?"

'I can't, Doc, I just can't!"

Doc lifted his hand and pointed at the door. "Get out. I don't ever want to see you again."

The weeping woman fled past him and out of the office.

"Goddamn self-centred, selfish bitch!" Doc couldn't help cursing her. Then he gave the privacy laws a good cursing. If only he could tell Jamie himself. But her mother had confessed something to him in confidence years ago, and he had to honour that.

**********

The surgery went well. Doc was standing in the hallway talking to the head nurse Gail when he spotted Cory struggling down the hallway, taking his first steps.

Shit, the one thing he'd hoped to avoid.

He turned and looked down the other way. Sure enough, there was Jamie coming.

"Double shit!" he reiterated.

Gail straightened Doc's tie up. "What's wrong? What are you up to, you old goat?"

"I kind of promised Cory to put him on a different floor, so he and Jamie didn't meet. He didn't want her to know he donated the kidney."

"But you told me to put them close together!"

"I know. But I promised him something else."

"Let me guess, you want ME to take the blame?"

Doc looked hopeful.

"What do I get out of this?"

"The Delmont!"

Ohh, the most exclusive restaurant in town. "When?"

"Tonight!"

"Anything I want?"

"Anything."

She leaned up and kissed him on the jaw. "Deal!" Then hauled out her ever-present Kleenex and pretended to wipe his face, leaving the lipstick right where it was. They'd been flirting around each other for years, but mutual respect for working together had kept them apart. Both had lost spouses years ago. They were both close to retirement now, so she no longer cared; they could fire her. She was serving lipstick notice to the rest of the women that Doc was hers.

"Let's take care of this," she said.

Cory saw him and waved. "Doc!" he called out.

At the sound of his voice, Jamie's head snapped up.

"CORY?" she exclaimed.

A stricken Cory looked at Doc. "You promised!"

Gail looked contrite. "Cory, I apologize. I was swamped when Doc talked to me. He says he told me, 'don't put them on the same floor.' All I caught was, 'put them on the same floor.' My fault; I should have stopped and listened closer."

Jamie arrived just then. "CORY? What are you doing here? And you're...oh my God, it was you that donated the kidney. You foolish, foolish man!" She started crying.

"I couldn't stand the thought of you dying," Cory admitted, staring at the floor, his eyes already tear stricken.

Then they were in each other's arms hugging, the clang of their IV poles going unheard.

"I think we're off the hook," Doc whispered.

Gail nodded and noted from the look of the tent in Cory's gown one organ was working fine and didn't need checking after the surgery.

He and Jamie went walking down the hall, arms wrapped around each other while tugging their IV poles along.

Doc and Gail smiled at each other and high-fived before Gail headed back to work.

People kept giving Doc strange looks until lunchtime when he went into the washroom and discovered what Gail had done. That damn woman had lipstick branded him! He had no doubt it was all over the hospital by now!

He couldn't help laughing; he was really looking forward to tonight. For the rest of the afternoon, there was a spring in his step that had been missing for too many years.

**********

Several months later, Doc opened the gilded wedding invitation, then frowned. In the back of his mind, he'd hoped things between Cory and Jamie would run a while and then wither away. No such luck, they were getting married in four weeks and invited him and a guest.

His suspicions welled up in his head, and once again, he cursed Jamie's gutless mother for the situation she'd created and refused to face up to. His hands were tied because of confidentiality laws between him and all three. IF he was right! But maybe not; there was that one in six billion chances.

He had to know!

Gathering up information from their files, he filled out a medical requisition. Then rethought the issue; if it was in the medical system, there'd be a record, and it would be obvious he knew. Instead, he went on his computer and located one of those private DNA testing sites and emailed it to them.

Three weeks later, he had an envelope on his desk. He put it to one side, procrastinating over opening it.

It was two hours before the Wedding. Doc was dressed up, sitting at his desk with an open bottle of scotch and a shot glass keeping him company. He took a sip, staring at that taunting envelope.

Picking it up, he tapped the mystery response against the desk a few times. The answer was there if he wanted to know? But nobody had asked him to do this. It was really none of his business, was it? And with the Wedding in two hours, he'd procrastinated the time away.

Decision made, he cheerfully fed the envelope to the shredder, its little metallic teeth cheekily chattering away like a squirrel as it digested its paper meal.

Capping the bottle and shooting the last scotch down, he headed out to pick up Gail.

**********

Jamie looked stunning, dressed in white as she walked down the aisle to the strains of the Wedding March.

Her skin glowed, her hair shone, she'd gained back the weight she'd lost when she was sick. She was the picture of health. Her eyes were fixated on Cory, looking splendid in his tux, surrounded by four equally well-dressed men.

Walking up the stairs to the altar with her bridesmaids, she and Cory embraced and turned to face Father Michael.

He went through the usual preliminaries and then...!

"Cory, do you take this woman...?"

"He does, and I do!" Jamie announced in a loud voice to everyone's amusement.

The priest chuckled at her eagerness. Before he could continue...!

"I do, and she does," Came out of Cory.

Father Michael chuckled again and folded. "I guess with that out of the way, I now pronounce you man and wife. Go on, you may now kiss the Bride."

They looked so happy up there, Doc thought, glad he hadn't stuck his nose in further.

He looked down at Gail's face where she was cuddled under his arm. "I think it's time we had a serious talk."

"About time, you old goat! And the answer's yes!"

Wheelchair Girl: Epilogue

With tears streaming down her face, she rinsed the blood off and examined the cuts and bruises in the mirror. She was going to have two black eyes, and her lip was already swollen like some parasite had burrowed in and made itself at home. She tested a tooth with her tongue. It was loose, and she wondered if she'd lose it. Her body ached all over from the punches and kicks he'd rained on her. At least he hadn't broken her nose again this time. Every time he slapped her face while healing, it was torture.

She could still hear him rampaging around the house, smashing things, and overturning furniture. Baby Jamie was wailing in her bedroom, disturbed from all the screaming and begging she'd done while getting the shit pounded out of her.

"I'll shut that little bitch up," she heard him scream.

As busted up as she was, she was moving. Her baby was in danger!

In the kitchen, she grabbed a handy paring knife. There'd be no more begging; there'd be no more pleading. He was an insane beast and had to go. She rued the day she'd ever met him and thought him sexy. Dead or alive, she didn't care. Jamie was everything, and he wasn't touching her.

She caught up with him at the bedroom door and, in her own rage, plunged the knife into his shoulder without compunction. He roared with pain and turned just in time for her to viciously slash him across his cheek down to his lip. It left a gaping wound, the two sides of hanging tissue spouting blood. He put his arm up to defend himself, and she slashed him across the bicep, happily defacing that tattoo he was so damn proud of.

Backing away, he held his other hand up defensively. She drove the knife clear through the palm, then ripped the blade free and went for his belly. But he had already turned to flee in panic, like the cowardly bully he was.

The screen door banged, and she heard the roar of his truck, tires spinning as he fled.

She had to move fast. No doubt the police would be there soon. From previous experience with them, she didn't trust them to keep Jamie away from him if they arrested her. Around here, it was a man's world. Beating your wife was considered a sport. Nothing to be taken seriously.

Even standing in court in front of a judge with multiple bruises and black eyes, he'd refused to issue a restraining order again her husband.

There'd be no justice. Only prison time for being a woman stupid enough to fight back. The good-old-boy justice system knew how to train women in this neck of the woods.