Past Perfect

Chapter 2

With my IV pole in tow, I hurried over to him, grabbed the handles on his chair, pulled him back and centered him so he could maneuver himself through the door. To my delight, my hands curled around the handles with little discomfort. I grinned.

"Explain what you find so goddamn amusing about a guy in a wheelchair."

 

My grin fled when I looked down into Ollie's rigid face. "No, not the guy in the wheelchair. Fingers that work. See?" I flexed them open and closed.

Ollie's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.

I extended one of my gauze-wrapped hands. "I'm Eden."

Ollie pushed his chair into his room. "I don't care." And then he slammed the door in my face.

I stood, agape, for just a second or two when a furious gasp met my ears. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. My brother's an ass sometimes."

I turned, saw a woman beside me. She had long dark hair and the same stubborn jaw as Ollie.

"Stay right here. Don't move. I'm gonna take care of this."

She pressed her lips together, shoved the door open and put her hands on her hips. "Adam Alexander Olinek, what the hell is wrong with you? That's no way to speak to a lady, especially one trying to help you and most especially, one who is also injured."

Ollie, still in his wheelchair, rolled his eyes. "Well, good morning, Amanda. How lovely to see you today."

"Shut up, you jerk."

Ollie's sister, Amanda, stalked into her brother's room and threw her purse to the bed and started straightening up the mess - Ollie's breakfast tray, wadded up napkins and tissues.

"You know, they have people who do that."

"I'm sure they do but I need to keep my hands busy so I don't strangle you. Apologize to this girl."

Ollie finally glanced at me, still standing paralyzed in his door. "Who, her? That's not a girl, that's a toy. I'm not in the mood for playtime and besides, she's broken anyway." He spared me a derisive glance and then looked away like I was nothing.

I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes and started walking, pushing the IV pole, one foot in front of the other. I kept walking, wishing I had somewhere I could go, someone I could talk to. I tried to give Ollie the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t the first time someone assumed that because I was a model, I was too dumb to take offense to insulting comments.

Then again, he had no idea I was a model.  

"Jesus, Adam!"

The door closed as I walked away and I was thankful I could no longer hear what they were saying.

Plastic chairs were bolted to the floor in the empty waiting area. I sank into one and let the tears flow. Maddie would have a coronary if she saw me sobbing like this. It causes wrinkles. But I didn't care. It felt good to let loose.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

The quiet voice startled me and I jerked around, saw a pair of huge blue eyes watching me from the back corner of the waiting area, where the toys had been set up. A little boy sat on the floor, quietly sliding beads along a wire frame painted in bold primary colors, his left arm swathed in thick layers of gauze. I shuddered and shifted closer to him.

“I’m not crying because of that.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because.” I sniffled, wiped my nose on my arm. “Because I’m tired of people thinking I’m pretty.”