Wheels In Motion Ch. 01

"I wish we could've gone with my moms to dinner."

"After the birthday party they threw for you last week they deserve a night out together, don't you think? I never had a party that was as cool as yours when I was a kid."

"I guess it was pretty cool to get wished a happy birthday on the Jumbo-tron. It was Mom-Megs' idea to take us all to the Capitol's game. She had to work on Mom for a month to talk her into it though."

"Well, I get where Kat was coming from, I bet that was expensive. Especially since she had to get twelve seats on the mezzanine level near the handicapped seats so I could... Ack!" Another player ambushed me from behind and took me out. "Stinkin' shotguns!"

"Wouldn't you rather have gone out to the Mexican place with them than waste your night off babysitting me, though?"

"Hanging out with you is never a waste, munchkin." I reached over and ruffled her hair. "Okay, one more game then it's off to bed with you," I said as we waited for the next Free-For-All match to start. "Your moms said you should be in bed by ten and it's ten-fifteen."

"But Liz--"

"Hey, none of that, Cait. Rules are rules."

"Okay. But I'm definitely going to kill you this time."

Cait did manage to kill me four times to my killing her twice in the last game. Turned out she was pretty good with a sniper rifle. I sent her off to bed while I browsed Netflix looking for something to watch. I had so little down time that I didn't have any TV shows I watched regularly and I got caught in a decision paralysis loop. I was still clicking around trying to land on a choice when Kat and Megan stumbled in the door of their condo, laughing and holding each other up.

"Ladies, you look like you hit the margaritas pretty hard tonight."

"The prickly pear is my weakness, it's so good!" said Megan.

"Everything go okay?" Kat asked. She was noticeably less tipsy than Megan. Kat rarely got messy drunk, an after-effect from her party days she'd told me. Apparently in the years before Caitlyn came along she'd been quite the drinker, but when she became a single mom she had embraced responsibility and raised Cait by herself while getting a nursing degree. She and Megan had met when Cait was four. Cait had turned out pretty great so far, so I guess Kat did it right. With a lot of help from Mom-Megs in the intervening years.

"She got a little grumpy at how many times I beat her in Call of Duty."

"Wow, you can actually play that game?" Megan asked, "I get motion sick every time I try to play with her."

I slid off their couch and into my wheelchair. Megan and Kat took my place, collapsing into a ball together, Megan throwing her legs over Kat's lap as soon as she sat down.

"Motion sickness and helicopters don't go together. Anyway, I can see Megan is getting handsy so I'll leave you two alone so you can enjoy the rest of your date night."

"You don't have to go so soon!" Kat said, but the hand she was rubbing on Megan's thigh suggested she was ready to take her wife to bed.

"It's okay. I'm meeting Addison for a late drink over in my neighborhood."

"Oh, so you've got a hot date too!" Megan giggled.

"Megan," Kat said admonishingly.

"Megan, you can ship us all you want. Still not a lesbian," I said, amused.

"I'm just sayin', for all the time you've spent with her since you met, you might as well be dating. Besides, Kat was straight when we met," Megan said, twirling a lock of Kat's hair around her finger.

"Megs!" Kat hissed at her.

"Kitty-Kat!" Megan hissed back playfully.

I laughed. They were the most adorable couple I knew.

"We just have fun hanging out, that's all," I said, "Anyway, she's waiting at a bar near DuPont Circle, so I should get going. Some musical act she likes is playing tonight."

"Alright. See you on Monday, Dr. Charles. Thanks for watching Cait," Kat said, throwing Megan's legs off her lap and getting up to walk me to the door.

"Monday then, Nurse Hayden." Kat leaned down and hugged me goodbye before I took the elevator down to the street.

The best thing about being paralyzed is the parking. My green Kia Soul was parked in a handicapped spot right in front of Kat and Megan's high-rise condo building in Ballston. I could have taken the Metro which was three blocks away, but I wasn't thrilled with the idea of doing so by myself after eleven at night, or having to change trains at Metro Center. My condo was on the Red Line, near DuPont Circle; a few quick stops and a train change to the Orange Line from Foggy Bottom where GW hospital was, and I rarely drove, so tonight was an exception.

One of the worst things about being paralyzed was getting in and out of my car. I opened my door and hoisted myself into the driver's seat, then folded my chair and muscled it onto the electric lift I'd had installed where the back seat behind me used to be, hit the button for the lift to bring my chair inside, then pressed the button that swung the modified rear suicide-door shut. I'd been surprised when I was researching cars for paraplegics to find out this sporty little Kia was on a top ten list of cars to modify for handicapped drivers. I'd been rather pleased, actually. When I'd first contemplated getting a car after my crash, I'd thought I'd be stuck with a van. Having a smaller car was definitely a plus in DC. Also, it came in a color that almost matched the neon green paint on my wheelchair.

Traffic on I-66 into DC was pretty sparse late on a Saturday evening. Twenty minutes later, I pulled into my space in the basement parking garage of my condo, reversed the process to get my chair out, and wheeled down the street. The bar was four blocks away, but I was planning on having a drink or two and didn't want to drive afterwards. Operating a car modified to be driven with only hand controls was tricky enough at times, and a DUI would be a quick end to my medical career.

The first time Addison and I had met after our first 'date/not-a-date', she had picked the restaurant. When I arrived, she was outside waiting for me, looking embarrassed. She'd picked an establishment not realizing it was in an old building with steps up into it. The building had been old enough to be grandfathered into not needing a ramp, so we'd moved down the block to find a different bar while she fell all over herself apologizing for not thinking ahead. It took me until the appetizer had arrived to convince her I hadn't been offended.

Tonight, she'd picked a better place. The bar was on the ground floor, and I was able to roll right in the door. There was a musician on a small stage in the corner; a young man playing guitar and crooning a pop song. He ended his song and announced he was going to take a fifteen-minute break just as I rolled in. I spotted Addison waving to me on the far side of the bar. She'd already had one of the chairs removed so I could roll right up to the table.

"Hey girl! How was babysitting?" she asked, holding out her fist. I bumped it with mine.

"It was good! If I ever have a kid I hope she's half as well behaved and fun to be around as Cait is. What are you drinking?"

"Water for now. I didn't want to get sloppy drunk before you showed up."

"I appreciate that," I said dryly. The waitress appeared next to me.

"Can I get a Hendrick's martini, up with three olives, please?" Addison asked her.

"Hmmm... that sounds good. I'll have... no... no, I'll just have a Guinness, please." The waitress nodded and left

"No martinis?" She said, tilting her head to one side.

"If I had one of those, that's all I could have, and I'd like the option to stay out a little longer than one drink."

"Why could you only have one? You told me this is your first full weekend off in two months."

"It's..." I looked around to see if any other table was in earshot. "This is one of those 'might be TMI' situations, so let's just say that getting drunk can make logistics really tough on me."

"You don't have to tell me Liz. I'm sorry I asked."

"Addison, it's fine. I'm not embarrassed and I'll tell you if you want. You kind of lose your sense of shame over this stuff after a while. People just sometimes get... weird hearing about it. In fact, stuff like this is what ended up weirding out the last guy I dated."

"Really? Okay, now I do want you to tell me. I mean, if you don't mind. What could scare a guy off prime girlfriend material such as yourself?"

I laughed. "Well, okay. But if I get too gross for you, just stop me."

I paused as the waitress came back with our drinks. I took a sip of my beer then continued, "Ahh, that's good. So, I'm... 'fortunate', I guess, that my back injury is as low as it is. I can't move my legs, but I have some control of my bladder. Some. It's not something that comes up in casual conversation, but I have to wear an adult diaper in case I have, uh, issues. And that's not really sexy. And if I drink a lot, I have to go more often, and then it's more of a problem, because if I'm drunk, getting back and forth from my chair to the toilet is a bigger challenge."

I'd had this discussion with almost every one of my friends and family, because people are curious and ask questions and I mostly felt that answering them was less awkward than letting people imagine what really went on in my life. I'd known Addison about a month, and her question came on pretty much on the normal schedule as other friends I'd had.

"I see," she said. "So, you can have a couple beers and be okay with your... logistics, but two or three gin martinis and..."

"Yeah, my tolerance isn't that high anymore. Getting really drunk can end up badly for me. The last time it happened, I fell trying to get onto the toilet.

"But why would that scare off a boyfriend? That's not that big of a deal, is it?"

I cringed inwardly. My usual openness notwithstanding, this had veered into a territory I hadn't anticipated discussing with Addison this soon. Or ever.

"Well, like I said, the location of my injury gives me some bladder control. It also means I'm... sort of... fully functional, if you get me."

"Oh! So, you can--"

"I can still have an orgasm, but it isn't easy. It takes time and a lot of work. With the only two boyfriends I've had since my crash, I'd kind of, you know... taken care of them, then just taken care of myself later."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it takes a lot of patience to get me there. Patience guys don't seem to have, I guess. My last boyfriend, Josh, believed he was God's gift to oral sex, and that he could take care of me where others guys couldn't, or something like that."

"Sounds like a real winner."

"He meant well. We'd been out drinking and then later he was doing his thing, trying to get me off, and well..."

"What? What happened?"

"I told you, I have some bladder control." I picked up my beer and sipped it, looking anywhere but at Addison.

"Oh no!" Addison smothered a laugh with her hand. "You mean..."

"Yeah. I couldn't feel it coming and he got a face full. And well... that was that."

"Are you serious! He dumped you over that?!" Addison said, genuinely angry. "What an asshole!"

"We were probably going to break up soon anyway. We were okay together, but just okay. I was about to start my first year of residency, working eighty to hundred-hour weeks. It probably would've ended then anyways."

"That's no fucking excuse! Breaking up with you over something you have no control over? If I ever meet that shitheel..."

Her anger on my behalf warmed my heart.

"Addison, it's okay. That isn't the whole story. I mean, it was pretty humiliating that that was the event that caused the breakup fight, but I'm realistic. We had pretty different interests and goals. Also, when you have a partner, you want sex to be a mutual thing. I have no problem letting my boyfriends fuck me when things get hot and heavy so they can get off, but that does almost nothing for me physically anymore. Those particular nerves just don't... When your man is going at you and you don't feel anything, it's a huge turn off for them. I mean, it's a turn off for me too. Sex is supposed to be an act you do together, not 'I'll do it to you, then you do it to me' every single time."

"That's... that's really sad Liz. I'm so sorry it's like that for you. That your boyfriends couldn't be better for you. I hope you find one who's more..." she trailed off. She looked genuinely upset.

"Thanks, Addison. I mean it's not all gloom and doom. Josh didn't complain too much. I got pretty good at blowjobs."

"Ewww, ick! Okay, that's TMI! Guy cum is disgusting, full stop!"

I saw the waitress's head swivel as she walked by our table and I shushed Addison as I laughed, then said more quietly, "A lesbian grossed out by guy's cum, that's so shocking! How do you even know that it's gross anyway?"

"I'm not a gold star lesbian. Ugh, I can't even..." she took a long sip of her martini.

"What does 'gold star lesbian' mean?"

"It's a lesbian who's never been with a man. It took me awhile to come to grips with who I was, small town Wisconsin not being the best place to grow up gay, so I've had some experience with your weirdo heterosexual practices."

"My heterosexual practices? How did I end up taking ownership for all of the straights?"

"Hey, you're the one who likes guy's cum. Ugh!"

"I didn't say I liked it. It's just... you know when you make a living examining people's bodies you learn to ignore a lot. I had a semester cutting up a cadaver in anatomy class. I've had my hands inside a guy's abdomen trying to keep his intestines from coming out on a medevac flight. Compared to that, putting up with a little splooge to make my guy happy isn't a big deal."

"Oh god, ugh, change the subject. Or at least veer back to my comfort zone. So, if a guy can't ring your bell with fucking, what does he have to do?"

"Let's, uh, let's just say I should be a major share-holder in the Hitachi corporation."

"Ah, so you can still feel a vibrator?"

"A little. It has to be a strong one. Like I said, it takes a lot of patience to get me off. Honestly, I'm more of a self-service girl now. The boyfriend before Nick spent forever trying to get me off, but never got the hang of it. I got to be a pretty good actress after a while."

"That's so sad, Liz. Well if you ever switch to my side of the street, never fake it. Either your partner should know what your body needs or they should learn."

"Don't be holding your breath for that. You'd be the girl lying in the corner, with the blue face." I finished my beer and raised my empty glass at the waitress as she passed by again. Addison signaled for a second as well.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow, with your rare two-day weekend? Want to go to Kramer Books for brunch?"

I frowned. "No, I hate that place."

"You hate Kramer Books? Wow, I'm not sure we can be friends anymore. I can spend all day in a bookshop."

"It's not that I don't like book stores. That store's just so old, the aisles are tiny and cramped, and the restaurant part is multi-level with lots of steps. I can't really get around inside there, especially when it's crowded like it is for Sunday brunch. I'll go there with you when it gets warm this spring and we can sit on the sidewalk patio."

"Oh. That never occurred to me. You know, hanging out with you is really starting to change the way I look at the world."

"Glad I can broaden your horizons," I said, then picked up the fresh beer that the waitress dropped off.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow, if not having brunch with me?" she asked me.

"Taking advantage of the weather." Sunday was supposed to be an unseasonably warm fifty degrees, before dropping below freezing again on Monday. "I'm going to take my racing chair out. I need to get some miles in."

"You have a different chair for racing? I thought you just used this one."

"No, my racing chair is a totally different beast. I'd fall over dead if I tried to push this thing ten miles."

"Can I come?"

"I'd love for you to, but I go about twice as fast as most people run, and I can't give you a ride in my racing chair. That's only for when we're walking and you start complaining about your aching feet."

"I don't run anyway, genius. I can bring my bike."

"Oh! Okay, that could work. So, should we meet at your place or mine?"

"How about yours?"

"Sounds like a plan."

~~ DuPont Circle, Washington DC ~

I sat in my racing chair outside my condo building on Sunday morning, waiting for Addison. I was early, but I hadn't gotten out on the road for a couple of weeks and I was anxious to get started. My job and the weather hadn't been cooperating with my desire for exercise lately. Ten minutes after nine, Addison rolled up on a well-used road touring bike.

"Sorry I'm late. Two gin martinis last night you know."

"Told you so," I joked, eyeing her outfit. She was wearing running tights and a Dri-Fit t-shirt under a light running jacket. I had on similar tights and sneakers, but I was wearing a sleeveless racing shirt. I was cold, but I knew after a few minutes of pushing my chair I'd be perfectly comfortable.

"You weren't kidding about your racing chair being different, it's really... holy crap." She stopped and stared at me.

"What?" I looked down at myself, finding nothing out of place.

"Liz, you're... ripped!"

"Oh. Thanks," I chuckled. "My legs are atrophied, but I try to make up for it with road work in my racing chair. Plus, my friend Jo designs workouts for me I can do in my chair.

"It's working, your arms are cut!" Addison gave me a worried look. "Now I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with you."

"You should be fine. I fall somewhere in-between the pace of a really good runner and a decent bike rider."

"If you say so. If you get ahead of me, you'll be easy to spot," she said, nodding at the little red-and-blue 82 Airborne flag mounted on a six-foot antenna behind my seat.

"Yeah, it helps a little with the idiots who don't pay attention. Makes me a little more visible. I don't usually have it for races, but for road work it's mandatory safety equipment. Okay, you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Where do you want to go?"

"My plan was to go down to the Mall, around the Lincoln Memorial, up to the Capitol and back home."

She swallowed. "Um, okay."

I looked at her with my poker face. "I know, it's only about six miles, but I haven't been out in a while. Maybe we should push it a bit. We could go across the Roosevelt Bridge, around Arlington Cemetery and the Pentagon then back up the mall from there. That'd be a good ten-mile ride."

"Uh..." She blanched, until I let the corner of my mouth curl up in a grin and she stamped her foot at me. "Damn it, you always get me! How is it you can always fool me, but you never fall for it when I try to pull your leg?"

"Because I can't feel it when you pull my leg," I said, gesturing at my chair.

"Oh my god, that was terrible. Come here, let me punch you where you can feel it."

"Alright, let's rock," I said. I'd learned while making runs in my racing chair around DC that it was a bad idea to have earbuds in, as they blocked out the sounds of cars getting ready to run you over. As a solution, I'd hung a small Bluetooth speaker on the back of my chair. That way I could play my racing tunes and still hear oncoming cars.

I looked down at my phone in the holder strapped around my thigh and started my favorite playlist for the road, then switched over to MapMyRun. We started off down the street to the sounds of Andrew WK's Party Hard, an excellent workout song to get the juices flowing.

I took off quickly as I usually did. Addison fell behind at first, but after going up through her gears, she fell in beside me.

"That speaker is a great idea," she said, as No Doubt's Just A Girl came on. "Good tunes, too."