It wasn't long after Calix had helped me up off the floor did Desiree decide that we had done enough PT for today. I can't say that I was the least bit disappointed. Right now, all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a bowl of chocolate syrup drizzled popcorn and watch any movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio.
I had texted mother a bit ago to tell her that my therapy session was over and that I was ready to be picked up. She responded immediately saying that she'll be here in ten minutes, so until then, I wait outside by the curb for her to arrive.
Behind me, the automatic doors to the Center slide open and the sound of plastic scraping the ground follows. Moments later, Calix comes up beside me, Teddy in hand. "You eat, right?"
His odd question doesn't faze me; I've heard stranger things come from Maverick. "I've been known to eat a thing or two in the past." My dry tone causes him to chuckle lightly.
"Well, ya know—food, it's a marvelous thing to experience. Even better experiencing it with two people, don't you think?"
My mouth falls open just a little. "Calix, are you asking me to dinner?"
He shifts uncomfortably in his stance, switching Teddy to the other hand. "I, uh . . . well—" A pause. He nervously clears his throat, then a sudden surge of confidence flows forth. "Milady, I've known you now for fifty-eight days—a number I sincerely wish to see grow—and I think it's time I take you to dinner."
I feel my cheeks warm. "Calix, I—" Mother pulls up in the van, cutting my answer short. She hops out, her short legs stretching to reach the concrete below.
"Hey, sweetie! And Calix; always good to see you. How are you?"
He gives mother a polite nod. "Better than I deserve, ma'am."
Mother slides her bronze aviator sunglasses on top of her head. "Please, call me Trish."
"But of course. And may I say you look lovely today, Trish." Mother laughs politely, but I can see she's just as confused as me. Why does he keep saying that? He can't see her, can he? Obviously not. So why does he keep saying that?
Before I'm able to ask, Maverick rushes outside, panting dramatically. "Cal! You loon!" I find it a bit ironic him calling someone else a loon. "You and Wheels here were going to leave without me, weren't you? Don't deny it! I can see it in those black eyes of yours."
"You do realize that these 'black eyes' of mine are sunglasses, right, mate? They're not my actually eyes."
His words suddenly beg the question. What color eyes does Calix have? I've yet to see them.
It takes Maverick a good while before he answers. "Yes . . . I knew that." He doesn't sound at all convincing.
Calix laughs at his friend's atypical behavior. "I'm not going anywhere. I was just seeing McKenzie off."
Mother cuts in the conversation as she moves in behind my wheelchair, guiding it towards the ramp. "It's my baby girl's birthday next week."
I had completely forgotten about my birthday being next week. With all the craziness that's happened over the last couple of months, I haven't really given much thought to anything except getting out of this wheelchair.
Mother lowers her head next to mine, rubbing our cheeks together. "I haven't had the chance to do any shopping, so I thought we could go to the mall and you could pick out a few things. Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah. That'd be great, mom." I guess DiCaprio will have to wait.
Maverick's shocked look catches my attention. He then cups his hands over both of Calix's ears, shaking his head wildly. "Cal, Cal! They're going to the mall. The mall!" He releases his hold on Calix, then stares blankly at the cloudy sky. "I've always wanted to go to the mall. I hear they have something called," he chokes over his words, "a food court!" Those final words explode from his lips. "Cal, can we go?"
Calix straightens his sunglasses. "What? No, mate. We weren't invited. Ya can't just go moseying yourself into other people's schedule." I love how he pronounces the word schedule as "shed-yul"!
Maverick hangs his head in disappointment, muttering to himself. Mother shoots a glance at me, an eyebrow arched, and I immediately know what she's thinking. "You guys should come?" I say.
Maverick spreads his arms wide, as if he's about to give me a hug, but Calix speaks before he has the chance. "That's a very kind offer, but unfortunately we can't."
"Why not?" I say.
He takes a deep breath, seemingly stalling in order to choose his words carefully. "My good bloke here is, uh . . ." He feels around for Maverick's shoulder, patting it gently. "He isn't fit for the real world just yet; something about . . . mental instability."
Maverick takes a step back, a look of hurt on his freckled face. "What? No! Cal, I'm fine. I can go."
"I dunno, mate. It's not the kind of world you're envisioning. It can be brutal out there."
"Nuh-uh! I've watched Andy Griffith plenty of times. People are nice."
Calix grins. "Even if that were true, you'd still have to get permission from . . ." He lets the sentence drift into the wind.
"Oh . . . yeah. That's true."
Neither of them say anything more on the subject. I find myself all too curious to remain silent. "Get permission from whom?"
"That jolly Jamaican chap who runs this place," Calix says.
"Kuno?"
He nods.
"So what's the problem? Just go ask him."
Maverick looks over at Calix with concern. "I can't mess up again, man."
"Then don't," Calix says.
"But I sometimes can't help it."
"Resist the urge."
"Urge. Resist. Okay. Got it!"
By now, my neck is starting to hurt from glancing back and forth at the two of them. "Care to share with the rest of the class why the need for such resisting?"
"Mav can be a bit . . . mischievous at times." Calix says that with the slightest glimpse of a smile.
"Mischievous? Mischievous how?"
His smile broadens.
I have a feeling I'm about to find out.
* * *
Maverick doesn't waste any time sprinting to Jamal Kuno's office. My arms ache from rolling these wheels in an attempt to keep up with him. Calix looks as if he too is getting weary; fingers draped against the wall to help him navigate the hallway.
By the time we arrive at Kuno's office, Maverick is already standing in front of his cherry oak desk. "I wanna go to the mall!" He blurts out those words.
Jamal looks up from a stack of papers. "Mr. Aldridge, you know very well you aren't allowed to venture off the Center's property alone."
"But I won't be alone. I'll have my friends with me. Please!" He pauses for a couple of seconds. ". . . mon."
Calix drops his head in his open palm in embarrassment at Maverick's attempt to speak Jamaican. "Mate, nobody actually says that."
Maverick turns around, giving Calix the "A-okay" sign with his fingers. "Don't worry, Cal; everything's under control. I read it in a travel magazine once."
Meanwhile, Jamal is looking desperately confused. "Mr. Aldridge, need I remind you of your last few—how should I put it—stunts?"
Maverick shrinks back just a little.
I wheel my chair closer to the bulky desk. "Stunts? What'd he do?"
Jamal moves over to a filing cabinet that nearly rivals his own stately height. He inserts a key into the slot and begins rummaging through a list of manila folders before finally withdrawing one. "Ah! Here it is. Hmm, where should we start . . . mon?"
Calix shakes his head again. I can't tell whether he thinks it's funny or not. At least Jamal doesn't seem to have taken offense by it, or if he has, he isn't showing it.
Jamal reads the file out loud. "March twenty-third: you were caught putting magnesium laxatives in the lemonade fountain in the cafeteria. July fifth: you set off a box of bottle rockets in the therapy room. November seventeenth: you were found trying to escape the facility's grounds by hijacking a golf cart. It took nearly forty minutes and nine staff members to catch you."
Maverick snickers in delight, leaning in close to whisper, "That was epic, epic fun."
Jamal returns the folder to the filing cabinet and slams the door shut. "I see no reason to grant you a day's leave until your behavior becomes more accountable."
Calix speaks on his friend's behalf. "What if I were to stay with him the whole time?" He playfully punches Maverick in the arm, nearly missing. "Keep the young bugger out of trouble, eh?"
"Mr. West, how exactly do you plan on keeping watch over him?"
He laughs nervously. "Yes, I understand your point. Quite right."
By now, Maverick is looking more depressed by the minute. Granted, his track record certainly doesn't scream poster child, but considering how I've felt over the last two months while being stuck in this place, I can't fully blame him for wanting to have a little bit of fun. Being cooped up in here all day every day can suck the life out of you, and boredom is a slow way to die.
"Mr. Kuno, my mom is going to be there, too. Doesn't that count for something?" I loudly project my voice in hopes of sounding mature. "I mean, she can be his guardian for the day or something, right?"
Jamal thinks this over for a long moment. Maverick now has his hands clasp together, like he's silently pleading for permission. This must really mean a lot to the poor guy.
"Here's what I can do." Jamal tugs on one of the desk drawers, pulling out a unicorn child leash; the kind you fasten around the child's torso—leash held in the parent's hand—to ensure that the child can't wander more than a few feet away. "If you really want to go, then you must wear this. Deal?"
Maverick tilts his head to the side. "You've had that thing in the drawer for how long exactly?"
Jamal smiles mischievously. "I figured the day would come when there'd be a use for it."
Maverick yanks the leash from Jamal's grasp, then loops his arms through the arm holes, struggling to fasten the buckles across his chest. They finally latch together. It looks like it's ten sizes too small for him, but he doesn't seem to mind. "It fits!" He pumps a fist in the air triumphantly. "But did it have to be a unicorn?"
Jamal simply shrugs, ignoring Maverick's question. "I want you back before sundown. I'm giving you a bit of leash," he pauses to relish the irony of his words, "don't choke me with it."
"Aye, aye, sir!" Maverick rushes out of Jamal's office. Outside, mother is leaning up against the van where we had left her. Maverick runs forward, leaps into the air and clicks his heels together. "I'm going to the mall!"
By the excitement in his voice, you would think that he's going to Disney World.
* * *
No sooner had we fastened our seat belts and driven out of the Center's parking lot did Maverick initiate a series of nonstop questions.
"Are we there yet? This van smells funny. You have a DVD player in here! Are we there yet? How about now? Are we gonna eat? Can we go to the food court? I gotta pee. Are we there yet?"
Calix turns around from the passenger seat. "Mate, simmer down. We'll be there soon."
Maverick throws himself against the headrest, huffing loudly in distress. He's seated next to me in the middle of the van, while Calix is up front next to mother. I figured she couldn't handle Mav's craziness up front for very long, so I said he could ride back here with me.
Maverick points to the ostomy pouch bulging from beneath my shirt. "Ooh, that's so cool! Did the aliens get to you, too? Did they slice you open? Did it hurt? Did you die?"
Calix turns around again. "Mav, we talked about this, mate. Try being less weird."
"Less weird. Right. Got it!"
I tug at my shirt, pulling it lower over my stomach. He's no doubt going to keep at it, so I figure I might as well play along. "I not only died, but I drank a bottle of regeneration liquid before it happened, came back to life, and then blew up their spaceship!"
He lets out a low whistle, then presses his palms together, bowing before me.
Mother makes a turn at a stoplight, which I know isn't the correct way to the mall. She quickly informs us that we have to pick up August from school. I try not to moan. Why can't that little squirt ride the bus home? He has a house key after all. He's gonna make us go to the indoor playground and spend hours crawling through germ infested plastic tubes. My stomach feels like it's just been drop-kicked—the last time that I chased that little guy through those tubes was before I became paralyzed. So much has changed since those days.
August is already waiting on the sidewalk by the time we arrive, head hung over his PSP as usual. He opens the slider door; confusion crossing his face once he sees Maverick sitting in his seat. "What's one-eared man doing here?" He raises a small finger in Maverick's direction.
I roll my eyes. "Just get in the van, shrimpy." He nearly hits me with his backpack as he throws himself in the backseat.
To pass the time, and to drown out the annoying noises coming from August's video game, I made the smart decision to pop in a DVD. I grab a handful of movies from the center console. Maverick excitedly claps his hands together when he sees Marley and Me.
"Puppies! Can we watch it? Can we? Can we, can we, can we?"
With a shrug, I insert the DVD into the overhead player. It's kind of sad to think Calix can't enjoy it with us, being blind and all. I wonder how much he misses in life not be able to see. I guess it's no different than me not being able to walk. But even still, it just seems sad.
Before long, Maverick is engrossed in the movie. Mother shoots a "thank you" look at me in the rearview mirror, no doubt appreciative for the silence. We barely get to the part when Owen Wilson buys the dog by the time we arrive at the mall. Maverick seems torn; unsure whether he wants to finish the movie or go inside the mall.
"It'll be here when we get back," I reassure him. He smiles; clearly relieved he doesn't have to make the choice of one over the other.
Mother pulls the van up to the front entrance to drop us off. "I'll meet you kids inside in a few; gotta find a parking spot."
Calix steps down from the van. Teddy unravels from its compact state, forming into its usual extended length. Maverick leaps out next, feet stomping the ground with a thud. I'm somewhat jealous at his exuberant exit, wishing I could do the same. But I can't. So with no other choice, I take my usual path down the ramp; August running down behind me.
"Hey, ear man!" August calls. "Why are you wearing that girly thing?" He's referring to the child leash, which looks to be cutting off half of Maverick's oxygen intake.
Maverick's face falls into a frown, as if suddenly realizing someone has to hold the other end. Calix obviously can't do it, and I need both hands to guide my chair—all eyes fall on August. "What . . .?" He's no doubt curious as to why we're staring at him.
I grab the leash and tie it tightly around his wrist. "Just hang on to this and don't let him out of your sight. Got it?"
August smiles, some of his baby teeth missing. "So he's like my puppy for today?"
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever works. Just don't let go."
Inside the mall, it's overly crowded. People stare at us, flashing weird looks like we're a group of freaks. I can only imagine why: a blind guy, a paralyzed girl, a second guy who's of the age where he should be considering college is instead secured by a unicorn child's leash, and to top it all off, said leash is held at the other end by a seven-year-old. Oh yes, we're quite the sight to see.
Maverick inhales loudly. "What is that smell?"
I breathe in, too. "Oh, that? That's Auntie Annie's pretzel hut."
Without another word, he darts toward the little kiosk station, helplessly dragging August behind him like a Great Dane pulling its petite owner. I try my best to pursue him, weaving my wheelchair back and forth to avoid colliding with other shoppers. Maverick points at everything on the menu; I can see the excitement in his motions. The girl behind the counter shakes her head disapprovingly, shooing him away. He sulks over to Calix and me thereafter.
"No money," he says. His shoulders slump in disappointment.
"I'll take care of that. But first, I need caffeine—to the nearest Starbucks!"
Calix scurries closer to me, wrapping his hand around my chair for security. I feel bad for him; being blind in a barren place is difficult enough, but it's gotta be even more terrifying in a crowded environment. I'm sure he would have rather stayed in the familiar surroundings of the Center. He's a good friend for coming with Maverick.
"What is this Bucks of Star you speak of?" Calix tilts his head in wonderment.
"You've never heard of Starbucks?" He shakes his head from side to side. Wow! They must never get to leave the Center. "It's a tea and coffee shop. C'mon, there's one just around the corner."
"Oh! A cup of tea would be splendid."
As we walk into the coffee shop, the smell of roasted coffee beans hangs in the air, filling our nostrils with its bold fragrance. Oh, how I wish my bedroom could smell like this always.
I move up to order; my head barely sticks above the ledge of the counter from my seated position. The barista behind the counter has to lean forward just to see me. "I'll have a grande low-fat caramel macchiato, please; extra shot of espresso, extra foam."
Choppy breathing picks up from behind me. I spin around in my chair to see Maverick slapping Calix's shoulder repeatedly. "Cal, cal!"
"What, mate?" He almost seems annoyed by his friend's overzealous actions.
"Dude, look!"
"'Fraid that's not possible."
"Oh, right. Well, heaven is standing right before us!"
"Is it now? Give it a cheery greeting for me, will you?"
I turn to see what has Maverick so captivated—the pastry display case. He stumbles over to it, collapsing at its base, arms spread wide as he slams the side of his face against the glass. "Don't ever leave me!" He starts licking the glass.
"No, don't do that!" It's a struggle to yank him away, but I somehow manage to do so. The barista behind the counter looks stunned, horrified by his vastly unsanitary antics. I smile sheepishly, then turn to Calix in hopes she doesn't say anything. "Whaddya want? Quick!"
"Tea. I'd like a nice cup of tea."
"Well, there's Earl Grey, chai, and berry teas."
"Whatever you would have, Milady."
"Chai tea it is then."
Maverick eagerly points at an M&M cookie the size of a Frisbee. "Can I have that?" He seemingly is looking to me for permission. I nod apprehensively, wondering whether or not he can handle the sugar. He initiates a happy dance upon my response.
August grabs a bottle of chocolate milk from the shelf. I slap him on the back of the head playfully. "Betcha still can't spell Indonesia correctly."
He cracks open the bottle, smacking his lips together after taking a sip. "One word, sis: Google." Then walks away. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I'd wager to say he still doesn't know how to spell it. And he likely still believes that chocolate milk comes from brown cows.
Maverick is still dancing, oversized cookie in hand. The barista behind the counter continues to give us weird looks. The last thing I want is to suffer more embarrassment, so we grab our drinks and quickly leave the shop. Mother meets us as we move back into the main mall area.
"Phew! You would not believe how hard it was to find a parking spot. I had to go waaaaay out there . . ." Her voice fades as I get distracted.
A group of girls, varying slightly in age, but most of them appear to be around sixteen, are taping a poster to a wall. Its vibrant colors and the bold fonts are certainly eye-catching. In the center of the poster are two silhouettes; a girl and a boy, poised in a dance. The girl's wrists are hung around the boy's neck and his hands are resting just above her waist. My pulse quickens as I read the title of the advertisement: Hollywood Ending. I had completely forgotten about it up until now. And it just so happens to take place on the same day as my birthday.
"So, where to?" Mother's voice fades in. She catches me staring at the poster. "I'm sorry you won't get to go, sweetie."
I shrug, knowing I can't do anything about it. "Doesn't matter. Wouldn't have happened anyway." I pat the sides of my wheels in a silent implication.
"I sense a story not yet known by me," Calix says, raising a bushy eyebrow from behind his glasses.
"It's a long story."
"You know very well how I feel about long stories, Milady." His brow is still raised in interest.
"Well, once upon a time my old boyfriend—err, I'm not even sure if he was ever that, really." I rub my forehead with the back of my hand, sighing with regret. "We were supposed to go to the dance together. But he dumped me after I became paralyzed."
"Blimey! Well, I guess he didn't love Pluto as much as I do." He smiles. Those words cause me to smile, too.
Mother looks confused by our moment. I wave my hand dismissively. "Nothing, mom."
The nearest department store is Macy's, so we go there first. Since seeing that poster, I suddenly don't feel like shopping. It's weird. Sometimes it's hard to ignore the fact that I'm held hostage by this chair. Then other times, even for a short while, I don't realize it at all, like my body and mind have come to terms that this is my life. But it's the times when a memory from my past—such as Hollywood Ending, cheerleading, or Aurora—pops into my head; that's when reality hurtles itself right at my face.
Mother pulls a T-shirt off a metal clothing rack; a purple and pink plaid number with long sleeves. "How about this one, hon?"
"Yeah, that's cute."
August wanted to go to the Gamestop a few stores down; Maverick said he'd protect him and even reminded August "stranger danger" before they left us. I'm honestly not sure who would be protecting who if anything happened, but mother gave him permission, telling them not to be long. Calix, still likely feeling a little out of his element, agreed to stay with me, savoring each sip of tea.
"This tea is delightful!" he says.
"Yeah. It's one of my favorites." Ed Sheeran's All of the Stars begins playing from the overhead speakers. "Oh, I love this song!
Calix tilts his ear upward, bobbing his head as he listens. "Who is this melodic chap?"
"Ed Sheeran. The guy is a lyrical wordsmith, trust me. And he's British just like you."
He continues bobbing. "I approve of this Sheeran of Ed."
As I lazily slide different clothes down the rack, one of them stands out, causing me to stop. It's a fairy blue colored dress, backless as it dips down towards the wearer's waist, with slightly puffed shoulders and deep blue swirls sprinkled across the front. It looks like something Cinderella would wear. It would fit me perfectly. I would have totally worn this to Hollywood Ending. Sadness overtakes me once again as I realize that I'll never get the chance to wear something like this ever again.
Calix moves his head, surprisingly aligning his gaze pretty closely with mine. "Everything alright, Milady?"
A single tear slides down my face. "Yeah," I say quietly, then stuff the dress back on the rack and leave the aisle.
Mother finds me a few minutes later. "Find anything you like?"
"I'm kind of tired, mom. Is it okay if we go home?" I hope she doesn't notice my puffy eyes.
Before she can answer, August rushes up from behind us, his eyes wide with terror. "He's gone!" I then notice the child leash being dragged behind him with Maverick nowhere in sight.
I place both hands on his shoulders, calming him. "Tell us what happened. When did you last see him?"
"Um. Well. I was playing Harvest Moon; He was right beside me. And then, I got so involved with milking cows, when I finally looked back he was gone." He drops his head in shame.
Calix grins, followed by a short laugh. "I warned you; that lad can be pretty mischievous when he wants to be." I'm surprised he isn't worried about his missing friend.
We scour the mall, but after a forty-five minute search, there's no sign of Maverick. Judging by the look on August's face, I can tell he feels terrible. "You're not responsible, okay?" I tell him. He weakly bobs his little head up and down.
Calix sweeps the tip of Teddy in a figure-eight circle across the floor. "It's my fault. I knew of his past behavior better than anyone. I shouldn't have agreed to let him come."
"Where could he be?" I say to no one in particular.
Not two seconds later, Calix and I blurt out the answer in unison.
"The food court!"
The food court is on the other side of the mall, but it doesn't take us long to get there. And of course, it's packed with people. It's going to take forever to find him.
At that moment, low moaning comes from behind us, like the grieving moan of Frankenstein's monster. The Chick-Fil-A cow mascot is looming over me. August screams like a little girl, darting behind my chair for cover.
"Eat . . . more . . . chicken . . ." a muffled voice speaks from inside the mascot.
"Wait a minute! I'd recognize that voice anywhere." Calix uses Teddy to whack the mascot in the knee.
"Ow!" The mascot removes its head revealing Maverick inside. "That hurt."
"Thank the Queen of England! Mate, what in the blimey world were you thinking? You can't just go buggerin' off whenever ya like. Something could happen to you. Then who would I count on for a crazy story before bedtime, hmm?"
"Cal, you don't understand. The guy who was in this thing needed a break. He told me if I took it over for a few minutes he'd pay me in chicken. Chicken! Do you know what that means? Do you!"
"Yes, we're all very excited about your poultry paycheck, but you can't be disappearing like that. Something could have happened to you."
I speak up. "We're just glad that we found you. C'mon, it's getting late. I don't want Jamal getting mad if I don't get you back by curfew."
Maverick's eyes crinkle with fear. "You aren't gonna tell him I ran away . . . are you?"
I have no intentions of being a tattletale, but I figure what's the harm in making him sweat it out. "Hmm." A long pause follows before I answer, and I can tell he's growing more concerned with each passing second. "I suppose not." He lets out a huge sigh of relief.
We make our way towards the mall's exit when Calix turns to me. "You never answered my question from earlier. Dinner. You. Me. Tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night would be perfect," I say.
Maverick, who's striding in front of us, whips around abruptly. "Guys! You know what this means, right?" Our faces are void of an answer. "I can now say that I've been a cow. This has been the best day ever!"
And for once, he actually isn't crazy.
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