Twenty-Five Minutes

A quarter til seven. Twenty-Five more minutes, and he will be here. Twenty-Five more measly minutes and it would be okay because Jackson would be here and I wont be alone anymore. He'll be here and I wont be alone and then I can leave.

The hanging clock ticked away another minute, and I found myself panicking. My back muscles stiffened, my good hand clenched open and closed. Open and closed, with impatience. Of course he would be here. Why would he not? I could think of at least 5 reasons right off the top of my head at this moment actually. They were all 5 dangling from my left hand at the moment. In motionless inactivity. Painted red with glittery polish by my right hand the night before, those nails were like an illusion of what was really there. What you were really looking at. The common passerby would see my red nails and think they were the result of a young girl's quick attempt at "pretty".

In reality, I had spent hours the night before, picking out the color, collecting all my needed supplies, seemingly hundreds of Q-Tips, cotton balls, and paper towels, to clean up and fix the dozens of tiny imperfections. Meticulously trying to steady my shaking my hand, as I labored over those nails. Then feeling the shame of asking for someone else to paint the other hand, when I, of course, couldnt paint my right hand at all. My little sister readily agreed to help, innocently not noticing my ever-reddening face as she did so.

All for that common passerby to think it a quick attempt at "pretty".

- - - - -

 

I reach down and straighten the hose underneath my new brown boots. The lavender floral, knee-length dress flowed perfectly over them. Made of very thin and delicate cotton, the dress had taken forever to sew without making hundreds of mistakes in the process. Me and my mother had been working diligently on it for weeks before my accident. I had desperately wanted a specific dress I had seen in Sears catalog months before...mother and grandfather decided it wasnt worth the amount they were asking for it, but mother was feeling especially giddy that day or something, I was never sure, and she promised to make me one just like it. For a much smaller sum of money, she said. So, she pulled out the dusty sewing maching and bought all new spools of thread, bobbins, and needles, and I picked out the fabric I was wearing now.

She also decided it was a good time to teach me to sew, and so we spent much longer on it than I had anticipated.

After the accident she had to finish it on her own, making quick work of it. I admired the resulting piece now, lovingly smoothing my fingers over the seams. I hoped Jackson would appreciate it. I hoped he would think I was pretty in it.

He once had thought I was pretty. He would tell me all the time, how pretty my hair was, how rosy my lips were. He "accidently" brushed his hand agianst mine all the time. The memory made me smile.

But that that was before.

- - - - - -

 

I hoped his coming tonight was genuine. Not his version of a favor to a pitiful girl he was once friends with. Just something he could laugh with his friends about later.

But something inside me told me it wasnt like that at all. He wasnt like that. And i wanted to believe that part of me. With every fiber of my being. Because even though it was just a night out, it was THE night out. It was MY chance at normality again. A chance for everyone to see, myself included, that I was not just another kid in a wheelchair. I could go out and actually DO things. Be with people, have friends, have a life.

It was my first night out with Jackson (or any boy for that matter) since the accident. Others had been hesitant to come around. Worred about what they should say or do, once they got here. Even some of my closer friends. But not Jackson. He came over every Sunday after church to eat lunch with us, and on Friday evenings, to tell me the weekly happenings. I lived for those evenings. I could get up, knowing he would be there that night. I could choke down the food mother shoved in front of me, take all the pills in the world, and even stand a couple hours of PT, if I knew Id see Jackson later that day. Those first few weeks home from the hospital, he was my lifeline.

- - - - - -

 

I heard a car door slam outside, and my stomach back flipped. Sitting in the parlor, with Sandy, my golden retriver, at my feet, my mind raced a mile a minute. All the possible outcomes of tonight went through my head. Every conversation I might have with every possible person I might encounter. Everything I had been thinking about for the past three days, since Jackson had asked if he could take me out somewhere, ran through my mind one last time.

"Erin?" A shy voice rung through the house. He had apparently knocked on the door and it had been opened. I hadnt even heard it over the sound of the voices in my head.

"In here!" I tried to sound cheerful. In reality, I was trying not to sweat through my dress in fear.

He walked in hesitantly, as if not sure if I wanted him to.

"Come in silly! Are you okay?" I smiled to show I meant it.

"Yeah Im okay...I was wondering though, about you. I mean...are you okay? To go out tonight? We wont go if youre not up to it. I dont mind just staying here and hanging out with you and-"

"And my mom?? no thanks. Were going. Come on."

Id found my spine. I was genuinly smiling now. I had told him I was doing it, and I was actually doing it.

"Okay...if youre sure." Jackson was standing next to me now, instead of across the room. I could see he was wearing his Sunday suspenders, which made me smile. He was one of the few guys I knew who actually wore them and didnt look like a total nerd.

He wheeled me out of the parlor, stopping to chat a bit with grandpa before wheeling me through the french doors to the living room. I had him stop so I could grab my large purse off the coffee table. It was filled with every small thing that would fit, that I thought I might possibly need. From tissues to pain killers, to my red pocket sized Holy Bible.

Once we got to his truck, I did panic. I saw that high step up to the seat, and shuddered. I had not anticipated this. I had not planned for this. I didnt know what to do. I should just go back now. Just go back in there, take off these rediculous clothes, and go to bed. There was no use living if I couldnt even get in Jackson's truck.

But before I had the chance to argue this whole rediculous outing, Jackson was right there at my side, scooping me out of the chair with his farm tanned arms, and setting me gingerly in the soft seat 3 whole feet off the ground.

I sat there dumbfounded. He just smiled, folded up the wheelchair and put it in the back, shut the passenger door, and climbed in the drivers seat.

"Well!" was all I could say to that.

"I knew we would encounter that problem, but I think I found a pretty good sloution. Dont you?" Jackson said, shifting the truck into gear.

"Um. Yes. I think we found a perfectly fine solution to that problem."

- - - - -

 

Later that night

I lay in bed, smiling to myself. I had done it. I went through with the whole night. Through Jackson's dozens of "Are you okay?" "Do you need to go home?" "You stopped laughing, whats wrong?!" I just laughed them off, convincing him Id be alright to stay for a another 30 minutes.

We had gone to a movie with a couple of his friends from school. One of them seemed a bit awkward around me. He didnt know what to say when we were left alone together. Jackson was worried about this, I could tell. But I made sure I let him know I was perfectly fine with it, which wasnt completely true, but I didnt want him to worry about my feelings. The other was the total opposite with me. He tried to be alone with me as much as possible. If Jackson hadnt made it obviously clear I was with him, he would have tried to pay my way all night long. After the movie, he even tried to tag along with Jackson and me, but Jackson could tell I was getting a bit tired of the extra company.

Afterward, he asked if I wanted to go anywhere else before he took me home, and I told him no, I was perfectly fine to stay in the truck. So we sat, talking, in his truck for the hour and a half until curfew, in the movies parking lot. We watched the street lights flicker on, and then a couple flicker off when the bulbs gave out.

We drove home in the dark, his right hand dangerously close to my left leg. Grandpa would think so anyway. But he knew better than to touch me without gaining permission first. I loved that...

After we pulled up to the curb in front of my house, he scooped me out of the seat and into my chair. I was really starting to like this mode of transportation quite a lot.

He escorted me to the door, and even sat in a chair on the porch, to be eye level with me.

"I want to do this more often Erin..." he started.

"So do I. I was scared to at first, but I liked it. And I like you." I said before he could make further aquisitions.

"Oh." He seemed genuinly surprised, and happy, that I had said this.

"I mean it. I like you alot." I bent my head closer to his and kissed his cheek.

I watched him turn crimson and I smiled to myself. I was proud of myself. I didnt know I could do that.

"Goodnight Jackson." I used my right hand to wheel myself the couple feet to the door, and open it, wheeling myself in.

"Goodnight!" He said quickly, jumping up in a hurry. As if he wouldnt get another chance to do so.

I smiled as I shut the door.