The Exhibition
I saw Laura on a dating site. I liked her profile picture from the first moment. A friendly, attractive face with a bright smile. Blonde, curly hair. And an expectant look, attentive and curious. There was only that picture, but it was enough.
At first we just chatted. That seemed difficult for Laura. She always took a long time to write her messages. Then we started talking on the phone. That was much better.
Now I know that Laura is a bit younger than me and a bit shorter. And that she is also interested in art and culture, that she likes to go to the cinema, the theater and concerts.
Laura told me a lot about herself. Some of it was strange and I didn't understand it. Laura likes to walk in the woods, but she needs a driveable path. She likes to go to the swimming pool and likes to be in warm water, but she can't swim as she wants. And sometimes Laura can't do anything at all because she can't find anyone to watch her.
Today I'm meeting Laura for the first time. We are going to visit an exhibition together.
We agreed to meet on the square in front of the entrance.
I don't have to wait long before I hear Laura's voice behind me.
"Tom, is that you?"
Yes, it's Laura. I immediately recognize the face with the curly hair, the bright smile and the curious eyes. Laura looks stunning. She is slim, but not thin, with feminine curves in all the right places. Laura wears a tight white tank top that does nothing to hide her full, firm breasts. Even her nipples are visible. She doesn't need a bra.
She also wears skinny jeans that show off her beautiful legs perfectly. Together with the red high heels she looks great.
"Hello Laura, I'm glad you came."
I want to shake her hand, but the wheelchair makes me hesitate for a moment. Yes, Laura is sitting in a voluminous electric wheelchair, strapped into a padded shell that encloses her body from the shoulders to the bottom. A belt around her hips holds her in place, and supports under her shoulders keep her body upright and prevent her from tipping forward. Her legs are secured to padded supports with several straps. The wheelchair has no footrests. Laura's feet are free to move and fidget uselessly, as are her hands, both clenched in a fist with spastically bent fingers. Laura wears a cuff on her left wrist which is attached to the opposite side of the wheelchair by a long strap. This allows her arm to move, but it cannot reach out of the wheelchair. Laura's right arm is not restrained and fidgets less.
It seems that Laura can't move her head properly either. There are two padded supports attached to the headrest that go around Laura's head to the left and right of her forehead. Laura can't keep her head balanced. Her head keeps jerking to the right or left, as far as the padding will allow. And the cushions in front of Laura's forehead prevent her head from tilting forward.
Of course, Laura noticed my hesitation.
"What a pity, I really hoped it would work this time, that you wouldn't run away and leave me here alone because I'm disabled and in this wheelchair. I was so hoping that you would stay with me."
Laura sniffles and has tears in her eyes.
"I should have told you that I'm disabled and in a wheelchair. I should have warned you. Then I wouldn't be here. Please call my assistant. She can come back and pick me up. I can't make a phone call. I can't use a phone. And please stay with me until she gets back. I can't be alone. I'm scared when I'm alone."
"Laura, stop. I want to shake your hand, but I don't know if it's okay. Can I hold your hand? Will I hurt you if I take your hand? Do you want me to take your hand? And can you do that: shake hands? That's why I hesitated."
Laura sniffles again and her smile returns.
"Yes, you can touch my hands. It doesn't hurt me. Shaking hands is my passion. My hands always do that. I can't do anything else with my hands. Look."
Laura's hands keep moving senselessly and involuntarily. She can't stop them.
Laura struggles to open her right fist. Then she tries to reach out to me, but fails. Her arm twisted back and fidgeted behind her head. It was still a nice gesture, but it also showed Laura's helplessness. It's a strange feeling of intimacy and closeness when I finally hold Laura's spastically bent fingers in my hand. Then she tries to squeeze and hold my hand too, but all she can do is make a fist again.
"Laura, I'm staying here. I'll stay with you. Do you hear me? I won't leave you alone. You don't have to be afraid."
"Isn't my wheelchair repulsive?"
"Laura, I'm here on a date with a beautiful woman, not a wheelchair. Do you remember? I've been looking forward to this all day, and I don't want to miss a second."
"Doesn't it bother you that I'm disabled? Isn't that repulsive? I'm sure I'm ugly sitting in this wheelchair."
"No, you are not. Let's just see if I can cope with it."
"OK, agreed. Would you please wipe the tears from my eyes and clean my nose? There are tissues in the bag on the back of the wheelchair."
I carefully wipe away her tears and clean her nose.
"That was quite good. Thank you for being so sensitive. I suggest we sit down somewhere out here and I'll tell you everything you need to know about me. There's a single chair for you over there. I don't need one; I always have my own with me."
I go off, but Laura doesn't follow.
"Fuck, I can't do it. Help me!"
Laura tries to get her right fist into the handle of the wheelchair control. The handle is a deep hollow in the shape of her fist. Laura only needs to push her fist into the cage to operate the control. Her fist can't slip out, no matter how much her hand wriggles. I can see Laura struggling, but her arm is stretched backwards, wriggling behind her wheelchair.
"Take my hand, press my fist into the grip and hold it there. Then we go together, you walk and I drive, hand in hand."
Now Laura is driving off, but she can't steer her wheelchair very well. The uncontrolled jerking of Laura's hand and arm is only partially filtered out. Even with my help, Laura can't drive straight ahead. She has to stop and correct the direction again and again.
Then we sit across from each other and Laura talks about herself.
"You've seen that I can't move properly. I have cerebral palsy. In my case it is not a disease but a birth defect. When I was born, the oxygen supply to my brain was interrupted. This damaged an area that is important for muscle coordination."
"The muscles in my arms and legs are constantly receiving random and meaningless signals that I can't control. As a result, my arms jerk involuntarily and my legs like to kick hard. In addition, my arms and legs are sometimes grotesquely twisted. It doesn't hurt, but it makes me feel ugly and I don't want to show myself to anyone."
"I can only influence the fidgeting of my right arm. I can't stop it or really move my arm, but I can give it a direction."
"The muscles in my body are also affected and don't work properly. Some of them have not developed at all. Those that have developed are too weak to support me. That's why I can't hold myself upright."
"The muscles in my neck are weak and I don't have fine motor control for some of them. So I can't hold my head properly. It tends to jerk from side to side. And if my head falls forward, I can't lift it up without help."
"But I can talk, and because someone has to be with me at all times, I always have help."
Laura's right arm twists violently and bangs against the wheelchair.
"Would you like me to hold your arm?"
"Yes, but you don't have to be as careful as you were just now. Although it was nice. It doesn't hurt when you touch me and I'm not fragile."
"I don't need to explain any more for today. You might have to give me something to drink or feed me if we want to go to the café here. I can tell you what I need and what you have to do."
"Now you know why I can't be alone and why I always need someone close to me. Will you still stay with me?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Then let's go to the exhibition. Will you take my hand again?"
It takes us a while to get inside. I have to let go of Laura's hand to hold the door open. But Laura can't steer the wheelchair so precisely on her own. Laura has to go back again and again, needs several attempts to correct the direction, and still can't manage to go straight through the door. Eventually, her arm starts to twitch violently and Laura can't keep her hand in the handle.
But Laura is a fighter. Her arm is fidgets somewhere behind her head, but she finally manages to get her fist back into the handle. Now one of the staff comes and opens the door for us. I hold Laura's fist and she can finally get in.
Laura waits and I look for the lift.
"Laura, there's a problem. The exhibition is on the first floor and the elevator is out of order."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yes. I checked the website before I came. I always do that. I like to know if I can get anywhere in my wheelchair. If I can use a toilet, for example."
"And yet we're here today?"
"Yes."
Laura looks at me expectantly.
"Tom, would you carry me?"
"Laura, we don't know each other yet. Isn't it too private for me to carry you?"
"I'm used to it. I'm often carried, always professionally and without emotion. It's never private for me. But if it feels like a private thing for you, then it is a private thing for me as well. And you wiped my tears and cleaned my nose. Wasn't that private? So will you please carry me? All private?"
Laura is a great woman. She is confident, she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. And she leads a self-determined life, even though she's so severely disabled and can't do anything herself. She is also stunningly beautiful, very feminine, but at the same time deliberately attractive and uninhibitedly permissive. Who could hesitate? Laura is worth every effort.
"Yes! So what do I have to do?"
"First of all, take off my shoes."
"Why is that?"
"So I don't hurt you when you untie my legs. My legs will kick you."
"And without shoes?"
"Then I'll hurt myself if my legs kick somewhere."
