Wheelchair Girl 1

She was dying. Cory wasn't putting up with it!

Author Notes:

It is a fact that twins and sometimes children enjoy lifelong connections transcending distance & time. With that in mind, this story is a tribute to my wife, who has put up with me for 35 years.

For years she'd ask me if I felt there was someone out there. An only child, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was missing. I had no such feelings.

Her stepfather died, and we discovered her mother was descending into dementia, something he had been covering up. When she confessed a month later that there had been a sister born two years before her and given up for adoption, we didn't know how to take it. Dementia, fantasy or was this the truth?

I put my internet skills to work and built a site keyworded around what information we had. It took a couple of months, but one day we came home, and I checked my email.

"I think I'm the person you're looking for!" was the message.

I literally felt the blood drain out of my face. We'd found her.

Connections, through time, space and blood. My wife had it, and now a sister to prove it!

***********

"I don't want to be with you anymore, Cory! The wedding is off!"

"But...," Cory sputtered, "our tickets! You wanted to go someplace romantic for Valentines!"

"Keep 'em," Sheila suggested. "It's over!" With an audible click, she was gone.

Cory stared at his phone with disbelief. Two years with her and his fiancée dumps him just before they leave for a trip, she talked him into? Never mind their wedding plans for next summer.

Thirty minutes later, he was even more pissed. He couldn't change the tickets to take a friend or get a refund. He was stuck. Angrily, he logged into their joint account they'd been saving together for a wedding. They'd been contributing according to a percentage based on their salaries. He took his seventy-five percent of the balance plus the cost of his hotel and plane tickets and moved it over to his own account, then changed the password he'd trustingly shared with her. It was her idea; she could pay for his trip. Lastly, he took her ticket, put it in an envelope, and took it down to the mailbox. By the time she got it, the plane would be in the air. If she changed her mind, tough shit! He was going alone.

**********

"Seriously, mom, I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"I know, baby, but I'm worried about your health."

Jamie blew a loud raspberry. "That ship has sailed, mom. It's not going to change, and I need to enjoy the time I have left."

"But if you...!"

"I've done it for years. I don't want to live like this anymore. I've made my mind up. I'm going."

Jamie hung up the phone on her weeping mother. She felt guilty, but it was time to take control.

**********

Cory was sitting in the airport departure area reading his Kindle, waiting for his plane three days later.

"Excuse me."

He looked up to see a girl in a wheelchair. She was pretty, although her face was somewhat gaunt, her arms and body looking like several good meals wouldn't go to waste. Her skin tone didn't look all that healthy either. Still, for some reason, his interest quickened.

She nodded toward his travel bag protruding out into the aisle. Her chair couldn't get past.

"I'm so sorry," Cory exclaimed, bending down and pulling the bag underneath his chair.

She wheeled on past, muttering, "Fuckn asshole."

Stunned at her rudeness, he watched her make her way over to the departure counter and understood her frustration. People had haphazardly dropped bags all over, and she was having a difficult time getting through. She had to stop several times while people cleared a path for her.

She finally made it, so he went back to his Kindle.

They called his flight. He grabbed his stuff and started moving in that direction. Although they loaded the disabled and small children first, his seat was in the back; he'd be on the second call. It suddenly occurred to him that the back was also where they put handicapped people and stored their wheelchairs. That meant...Oh, fuck! He could only hope Miss Personality Plus wasn't sitting next to him.

Making his way down the plane aisle, he mentally cursed, spotting her sitting next to the window in the last row. His row. It wasn't a total loss, though. He had the aisle seat, which meant whoever was in the middle could enjoy her stellar personality.

He put his bag up in the bin and nodded at her as he sat down. She rudely rolled her eyes and turned to look out the window, ignoring him.

The hum of passengers getting settled, putting baggage into the upper bins continued while the plane filled. Finally, he heard the front door latch, and the sudden pressure in his ears told him the interior air conditioning had been switched on. There was no one left in the aisles, and the seat between them was still empty. Of course! It finally dawned on him that it was Sheila's seat, and Sheila wasn't coming. Cory groaned with dismay. Although socializing didn't seem to be Miss Personality's strong point, he'd have to put up with his new neighbour.

The plane jerked backward as the tractor pulled it away from the terminal and ten minutes later thundered down the runway. When it bounded into the air with an abrupt lift, he heard a startled squeak, and she fished in front of her for a vomit bag. He grabbed his and held it out for her as a backup just in case. She flailed her arm at him knocking his hand away, so he dropped the bag beside her and withdrew.

She puked into the bag three times before folding it up and setting it on the seat beside her. Wiping the back of her hand over her lips, she grimaced at the horrid taste in her mouth. Cory reached for the stewardess button.

When the stewardess finally made her way down the aisle, he nodded toward the girl and her puke bag on the seat.

"Oh dear, sweetie. Let me take care of that for you. Would you like some water?"

Miss Stellar Personality nodded and pointed up at the baggage bins. "I need my pills, please."

Cory jumped up. "Why don't I get her bag while you get the water."

He opened the bin and grabbed the pink one.

The stewardess was back in a minute with water to rinse her mouth and spit out, along with a bottle of water to drink.

Miss Determined-to-make-everyone-else-miserable, did nothing to improve her standing. Handing her bag back to Cory and the spit bowl back to the stewardess, she thanked nobody. Curled up, cradling the bottle of water, she went back to brooding, staring out the window.

Cory counted that flight as the longest, ugliest flight of his short life. He was a sociable guy and could get along with almost anyone. Except for her, apparently. Once they landed and got ready to deplane, he handed her bag down to her and opened his mouth to say goodbye. The words died in his mouth with the look of scorn and hatred she gave him.

What a bitch, he thought.

The customs lineup was long and slow. He noticed her over in a line devoted to handicapped people. The customs officer there had her pill bottles lined up in front of him, and it was obvious he was giving her the third-degree over them. He could see the bitter look on her face as she almost spat her answers back to him.

"Somebody, you know?"

That brought his attention back to the customs officer in front of him now. "Sorry, not really. I sat beside her on the flight and from everything I saw she's really sick. I've seen the difficulties she's been through at the airport back home and on the flight. I kinda feel sorry for her. It isn't easy to be handicapped and travel. That other officer looks like he's really giving her the third degree over her prescriptions."

"He has a reputation," the officer said diplomatically. "Anything to declare?"

"No."

The officer waved him through. Walking out of the airport, he could see her still explaining her various medications to the customs guy. Suddenly he had the craziest vision of her losing her temper with the idiot and blowing the roof off the airport when she exploded. He chuckled; the idiot had no idea what a short fuse he was dealing with.

It felt like a weight lifted off his chest, walking out into the warm tropical sunshine. He found his hotel bus and handed over his luggage. Two weeks of eating, sleeping, drinking, and lying on the beach. It sounded like an ideal place to mend after Sheila shit all over him.

Checked into the hotel, he made his way to his suite. Stripping down, he bounced on the bed. A nap seemed like a perfect project right now before finding something to eat.

A while later, after a refreshing nap, a quick shower and a change to cooler clothes, he opened the door to the hallway. Across the hall, the girl in the wheelchair was wheeling out of her room.

They both froze. Instinctively, it was on the tip of his tongue to say hi when she gave him another scornful glance.

"You again?" she spat out like she'd just discovered dog shit on her shoe.

Cory lost it. "I've seen all the pill bottles you're packing, lady, but you might have left the one with the nasty pills at home. This is supposed to be a fun vacation, not an episode in your personal vendetta against strangers. Don't bother talking to me again."

He stalked off down the hallway.

He hadn't made it far when he heard faint sobs behind him. He almost turned to go back and apologize, but shit, this was all on her. There was no reason for him to say sorry.

Sitting staring out at the ocean view while waiting for his food, he noticed her wheel in. Although the restaurant was empty at that time of day, she picked a table as far away from him as possible. He shook his head. Whatever that woman had stuck in her craw was her problem, although it was a pity. She was cute; they were both here alone. They might have had some fun together as friends.

It seemed to be his luck lately to get shit on by women.

That brought him full circle back to Sheila. What had happened there? The last few days, he'd gone over and over their relationship in his mind. There had been some episodes where she seemed distracted lately but not a hint that she was unhappy with their lives and where they were headed. Then out of the blue...!

Would she come back? Was this some temporary anxiety over their coming Wedding? He'd heard of grooms and brides suffering from those kinds of jitters. Many got back together after they worked their way through their feelings.

Did he even want her back?

He thought some more about those episodes where Sheila seemed distracted. It had started around three months ago. A blinding flash hit him. Right around the time, that new guy named Brad had started where she worked. At first, she'd talked about him so often he was getting uncomfortable. But when he thought back on it now, she'd stopped mentioning him. Was that it? If she was emotionally or physically unfaithful to him, he didn't want her back. That he was sure of. But somehow, deep down, he knew he'd find her with Brad when he got back.

As if cued, his phone rang, showing her name. He debated answering it but decided he might as well get it over with.

"Hello."

"Hi, honey. I wanted to apologize for my nasty behaviour the other day. Not sitting down with you and talking it over was a bad way to handle things. If I wasn't happy, I should have shared that with you. I thought if you were home, I could drop by, and we could talk, and I could get some of my stuff from your place."

'You'll have to wait a couple of weeks."

"Oh...you went on the trip anyway?"

"Why not? I paid for it, and a vacation is a good place to lick my wounds."

"I really wanted to go on that trip," she said wistfully.

"Yeah, well. So, how's Brad?" he took an unexpected shot in the dark.

The sharp inhale and the deafening silence following told him everything he needed to know.

"You know?" she finally ventured.

"I do now. Thanks for confirming it." He clicked her off and blocked her number.

Done!

Great, so here he was stuck in this romantic destination resort they'd chosen to celebrate Valentine's Day and his birthday. Everybody else was paired up and here to celebrate Valentines. He hadn't seen a single girl out on the beach alone; they all appeared to be with someone.

So, one bitch was cheating and dumped him! As far as he knew, the only other single woman close at hand was a psychopath. Speaking of which, he took a quick look in her direction.

Her head quickly snapped back down at her plate. She'd been staring at him. Interesting! Maybe she was contemplating feeding him to the sharks when he was swimming. He knew there were moose calls and deer calls. Was there a shark call? Maybe you just whistle. Hey, you there with the big teeth. Can you chomp this annoying guy for me?

Perhaps he should head into town and scout out a nightclub or a hot bar tonight. Find an available single woman. Somehow, he knew his head wasn't in it. No, he was alone and alone he'd stay; it was better that way.

He gave himself a shake. This morose mood was ridiculous. The sun was shining, the ocean looked dazzling. And plenty of eye candy from the look of some of those bathing suits, even if they were taken. He needed to be out on the beach, swimming and having a good time. A drink or five wouldn't hurt to help dampen his emotional pain.

He grabbed a towel from the attendant and got directed to the tent where his two sunbeds were located. Sheila had insisted on reserving them for the entire two weeks, despite the astronomical cost.

After lying in the sun, then enjoying a long refreshing swim, he was walking out of the water, slicking back his hair, when he spotted a small forlorn figure up by the hotel.

The path to the beach was down a slight hill. Where the sidewalk exited the hotel and turned toward the beach, they'd built a small outlook with a gazebo for people to sit and savour the ocean view. There was a lonely girl sitting in a wheelchair, occupying it.

Cory immediately felt sorry for her. The sand was loose and deep. He doubted she'd be able to wheel that chair over the beach to get to the water. If she could even swim? She certainly couldn't take the chair in the ocean. After oohing and ouching his way across the blistering sand, he grabbed his sandals and headed up the path. Why he had no idea. He had to be a glutton for punishment, but his heart went out to his fellow walking wounded.

She saw him coming but chose to ignore him.

"Would you like...?"

"What is it with you?" she interrupted bitterly. "Don't you get it?"

She waved her hand around, indicating the beach and ocean. "Look! This is my final hurrah! I'm dying! I'll never wake up in the arms of a hunk like you. Never be married, never have children. Never, never, never! I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!"

Sobbing, she wheeled off. Stunned by her outburst, he listened to her weeping until the hotel door slid shut behind her.

Jesus!

That was horrible. No wonder she was so ornery. What a burden to carry. Somehow, it made losing Sheila seem like a minor problem.

His brain clicked into gear. Wait a minute! A hunk like him? She said that? So, she wasn't hating or dissing him. She was fighting her attraction. Trying to drive him away before...? Oh my God, he'd been wrong about her motivation the whole time.

He sat down on the bench under the gazebo and stared out to sea for quite a while. Finally, a smile lit his face. Leave her alone, huh?

He didn't see her at supper nor when he went to the bar, spending some time sipping a few drinks and people watching before heading upstairs with a case of beer. Cracking a cold one, he sat on the balcony and opened his Kindle to read, enjoying the tropical breeze redolent with the smell of flowers and the sea.

He woke up the next morning, tired after a rough night of sleeplessness. It was wracked over and over with dreams of that cute girl, her wheelchair careening out of control down a steep hill. As fast as he ran, he couldn't catch it, his fingers missing by fractions of an inch every time. She kept turning back to him, arms outstretched and crying, "Don't you remember us? How could you forget me? Don't let them take me!"

Why he'd dream something like that, he had no idea.

Remember us?

That made no sense. He figured he needed to check what he was eating a little more carefully. Strange country, strange ingredients equal weird dreams, perhaps. He rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Admiring the ocean panorama while enjoying a late breakfast, he watched his target wheel up to the gazebo and park, taking in the view.

Perfect!

Startled, she squawked, clenching at the arms of the chair, feeling like she was going over backward when he tilted her wheelchair and started walking them down the path toward the beach.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snarled at him.

"You've got this last hurrah stuff all wrong. It's supposed to be fun, embracing life, enjoying those last moments, living life to the fullest. So that's what we're going to do. By the way, my name is Cory."

"If you think I'm going to sleep with you out of gratitude because you're being nice to me, you've got it wrong!" she spat out.

"Thank God for that. Now I don't have to worry about waking up in the middle of the night with a knife in my back!"

She was quiet for a moment, then started giggling. "I guess I might have left that impression!"

He loved the sound of her giggles; they sounded like tiny bells. "You did! So, what's your name?"

"Jamie. How do I know you're not taking me to the end of this path and dumping my body in the weeds?"

"It's a tempting thought," Cory mused out loud, "but we're going in here." He turned the chair around and towed it backwards through the deep sand. Arriving at his tent, he stopped and picked her up and sat her on the end of the sunbed. She hadn't scratched his eyes out when he picked her up. He counted that as a win.

She looked around. "This hotel is a romantic destination; how come your girlfriend isn't here with you. Is she coming later?"

"Fiancée," he corrected her. "She decided on another man and dumped me three days ago. This trip was her idea of a romantic Valentine and celebrating my birthday. I've paid for the tent and sunbeds for the two weeks I'm here, along with Valentine's dinner and dance tickets for tomorrow night. We're going, by the way."

She scoffed. "I can't dance!"

"The hell you can't." He hauled his Kindle out of his backpack and found a bookmarked page. "Just watch these videos." While she was doing that, he folded up her wheelchair and stored it in the back of the tent.

She watched "

Gravity, Wheelchair Dancing.

" Tears were running down her face after. "That was beautiful! You'd do that for me? I think your fiancée is a foolish woman giving you up."

"Yes, I'd be happy to do that for you. The hotel gave me a deal on a small meeting room for us to practice. Maybe this afternoon we can try some moves. As far as my Fiancée goes, after I found out about the other guy, it was for the best. I don't want her back. So, can you walk at all or swim?"

"I can walk, except it's extremely painful on my feet. Using a wheelchair is just easier. Swimming's great; I do that all the time for therapy. Chest to shoulder deep, and the buoyancy takes the weight off my feet. I can walk around in the water or swim."

"So, swim or sunbathing first?"

"Sunbathing, I don't have a bathing suit here. These shorts and t-shirt won't hide much once they get wet."

"TA-DA, we have a solution!" He fished in his backpack and hauled out a small shopping bag. "A bathing suit for you."

"How...?"

"I pointed you out to the saleslady at the clothing boutique in the lobby. She eyeballed your sizes and found a wicked-looking bathing suit. I'll close the tent flaps and wait outside while you try it on."