A Battle Raging (14 page)

He looked apprehensive.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Will you have a problem getting in?"

He shook his head.
"No. It's not that. It's just…the chair. I have to collapse it. OK, let me get in first."

She opened the door and he positioned the chair to line up with the front passenger's seat. He easily transferred into the car, using his hands to drag in his legs.

He grabbed the chair and swiveled it until its back was to him. He then pushed at some level hidden from her view, and within seconds the back was collapsed. He proceeded to detach the wheels. She looked on in fascinated curiosity at his agility.

"
Can you put these in the back? They shouldn't be too heavy."

She opened the back door just behind him and easily lifted the frame, resting it partially on the floor and leaning the bulk of it against the edge of the seat. She then transferred the wheels in the seat behind her.

"There," she said with some satisfaction. "That wasn't bad. Totally doable."

He closed his door as she took the driver's seat. She turned to him.

"So where are we going?"

Again, that closed look.

"It's an apartment building in Capitol Hill. It's not very ritzy."

"Oh see now, here I was thinking you
had this big penthouse with a Jacuzzi and maids. Is that what this is about? You think I'm going to judge where you live? You've only known me for a few weeks, but I hope I didn't give you that kind of vibe."

He shook his head. "No. But your home…"

"…is a family home, passed down to me by my mother. I'm lucky to have it. Rehabbing it was a slow process and it almost busted my budget. But I'm not that house. I'm just a woman who likes to draw, likes some Al Jarreau on occasion and sometimes make my own coffee."

She was pleased to see a slow smile forming.

"OK, I got you," he said. "Al Jarreau, huh?"

"Yeah, Jarreau's
the man."

"I can dig it."

"Yeah, you hip, you hip. OK then, cough up the address and we'll be on our way."

He told her the address finally. She started the car and turned on her CD. Jarreau.

Soaked, but with a soundtrack that included "Goodhands Tonight" playing first, they settled in. His hair was plastered to his face, drops dripping down the sides. She hadn't fared much better as her clothes stuck to her skin.

Going at a cautious speed, she
maneuvered the rain soaked streets, pellets hitting the windshield with an increasing velocity.

They were quiet for a while
, content to just listen to the music. Then she thought of something.

"Can you drive
, Zach?"

He was silent for a second too long and she wondered if she'd hit another barrier. How many were there?

"Yeah, I was driving when I was thirteen," he finally said. "But not since this."

He tapped his right knee with a fist
that was done with a force as though he wanted to punish his legs.

"So no way, huh?" she asked.

"I mean there are adaptive cars out there, not that I can afford any of them."

"Not that cheap then
? Well, are there ways to convert a regular car?"

"Yeah. It'd take hand controls. Those are installed near the wheel since I can't operate the foot pedals."

"So, you don't want to do that?"

"Well, I can afford rent, food and the basics.
Since only certain cars are adaptable, again it would take dough I don't have right now." Silence, then: "Maybe one day."

Despite the
ir almost snail pace, before she knew it they were pulling up in front of his apartment building. She peered at it over his head. It had a type of retro charm, but would never be mistaken for a luxury apartment building. The red brick edifice stood four stories high. Edging the lawn was a nice growth of red roses.

"Here we are," he said. The way he stared into her face, she could tell he was looking for any signs of disapproval.

"It looks nice," she said. "And it obviously has a least one great resident."

"I would invite you in
, but…" he shrugged. She knew he was teasing. There was no way she was getting in there without some insistent begging. Just from the fact that he hadn't wanted her to even see the outside.

"I live on the first floor. It's not much, but it's convenient. There's a local Starbucks on Olive and some great places to eat. Well, thanks for the lift. I have to get the wheelchair."

She started to get out of the car, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

"I had a great time today," he said. "I hope we can do something else real soon. Maybe take in some jazz."

She nodded with a smile, and with one deft motion he pulled her toward him.

The kiss was warm and salty, with traces of shallots and oysters. As the kiss deepened, she determined that oysters were in fact an aphrodisiac because the taste of it on his lips, his tongue, made her want to do things. Things unfortunately she didn't have time for today.

They pulled apart reluctantly. She liked the glaze in his eyes.

She
got out, retrieved his collapsed chair and brought the pieces to him. And within less than a minute, he had his chair back together again. And just as deftly he moved from the passenger's seat to the chair.

Thankfully the rain had let up some. Instead of getting back in the car, she watched him wheel away. At the door, he turned to wave and she waved back, thinking how much her life was changing.

And that change was sometimes a good thing.

"
Zach? What's wrong?"

He
heard the immediate strain in her voice. Also, incredulity. He understood both. He seldom called and here he was calling out of the blue, and not on their regular schedule.

"Nothing's wrong, Janey," he tried to assure her. "Can't a brother call his baby sister
?"

Silence, then, "Well, I don't know if "baby" is a
n appropriate adjective considering I'm a grown woman with kids."

He was relieved to hear the bit of levity in her voice.
Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

"But, really, why the call? Not that I don't welcome it," she said.

He took a cleansing breath to saddle up his courage.

"I just…
well, want to apologize for closing you out all these years. I should have been more forthcoming, more of a brother. It's just that…"

"You don't have to explain, Zach
," she said slowly. "I should be the one apologizing. I know I haven't been there for you…"

Another silence between them. Atonement was hard for either of them. Their shared childhoods leveraged against ever admitting wr
ong, ever making yourself vulnerable. You paid a high price sometimes for either.

"How're Leann and Davison?" he asked.

"They're fine. Leann is just past walking now and is getting into everything. She can climb out of the crib, which drives me and her father crazy. And Davey is like any six-year old, thinking he's grown enough to put us on blast. You know, just regular kids."

"Sounds like they're doing great, Janey. But then they have a great mother."

"You know, Zach, we have that extra room just waiting. I know Bellevue isn't all cultural and artsy as Seattle, but we have some great things going here. Believe it or not, we actually have a museum or two, and there are miles and miles of green earth, the Missouri…hey, and there's Haworth Park. The kids love it and… I know, I know, I'm talking on and on. It'd be hard to get here for you…"

She'd tempered her excitement, expecting the same answer he'd given her before. He hadn't made
it easy for them to stay family and not just a couple of people duty-bound to call because of blood ties.

"You know
, Janey, who knows? Maybe later in the summer I can make it out there for a week or so, but I can't promise anything right now," he said.

"Well, that's better than nothing."

He heard the pleasure in her voice and mentally kicked himself for depriving her of that for these past years.

After they said their
goodbyes, he hung up feeling much lighter in his spirit. He realized things didn't have to be as hard as he had made them out to be and promised himself that he would do better.

He wheeled over to the table and took a good look around the living space. Yeah, he was going to have to do much better than this. This was the apartment of someone who'
d given up living and had become satisfied with just existing.

Except now "just existing" wasn't enough, not anymore. This morning at the gym, he'd started toward doubling his reps with the goal of getting even stronger.
He worked out regularly with a trainer who'd been pressing the matter for about a year now. He'd actually done the parallel bars, standing for all of a mere seven seconds, but that was more than he'd done in two years.

His trainer
, Ed Dubrowski, had asked him what was motivating him after all this time and the only answer Zach had given him was a beaming smile.

A slow, answering smile had emerged on the trainer's face, emphasizing his craggy features and bald head.

"Ah yeah, it's a woman, it's gotta be. Nothing moves a man like that ole female vibe."

Ed was versed enough in the capabilities of paraplegics to know that even the wheelchair bound could have a fulfilling love life. Unlike the woman
working the register at his neighborhood Walgreens. He'd gone to the drug store to pick up condoms. A purchase he hadn't made in a long time, so he'd been a little apprehensive, maybe even a little embarrassed.

He'd chosen the large Trojans and had placed them on the counter, along with a soda and some potato chips, both to make the purc
hase seem like any ordinary everyday buy.

But the woman had looked at him in his chair, gave a pointed look at the package of condoms, then looked back at him as though to say, "really?"

Zach had controlled his anger, which he often had trouble with. In earlier times he might have reacted with a word or two spewed in her direction. Instead he took the bag, gave her a pointed look and left.

The condoms sat on the table in front of him, mocking him the way the woman had. Was he being overly optimistic about his prowess?

He dreaded disappointing her and didn't think he could face her again if anything went wrong.

He knew she would never say anything, but he would know. And they would both understand that things between them might stall if not stop altogether.

Still on the table for the past week was his futile attempt at pulling the vision of Pur Chaman out of him. He'd made a couple more attempts but each had ended with him setting aside the drawing in frustration. And fear.

No dreams this past week. So maybe he was getting better. Just maybe.

Maybe he wouldn't need the meds after awhile.

And maybe unicorns slid across rainbows with pots of gold hanging from their horns.

But who knows?

The thing was to believe in something.

He was starting to believe in love again, something he hadn't believed in for some time.

Saturday would be the telling point for both of them.

###

She loved the feel of his breath on her
cheek, the crook of her neck as he trailed his lips along her flesh. He whispered something indecipherable against her shoulder, moved his lips down to the swell of her breasts, buried his face in the crevice before reaching out to lick a nipple. Then began to suck in earnest.

He was inside her
, filling her space tightly until there was no way to escape it. Not that she ever wanted to escape this. He had her straddled on top of him, her robe long ago discarded. He was moving her up and down his dick, his hands balancing her with a grip on either side of her waist, his fingers splayed on her ass. She helped by undulating her hips against him, grinding into his crotch.

After saturating her left nipple, h
e moved his lips to the other nipple, attaching lightly and tenderly, licking softly. She held her hands on his bare shoulder, his shirt discarded along with her robe. She'd been pleasantly surprised at how ripped he was as she'd lifted the tee shirt off him, and saw the hard ridges and indentations. Running down his arm was an elaborate snake tattoo. She wasn't really into tats, but on him it just added to the appeal. Here was a man who worked out and she'd shown her appreciation by running her hands along his torso. Had been pleased to watch his eyes glaze over as she'd tweaked his nipples gingerly, flicking at the tiny knobs.

She hadn't pla
nned this but obviously he had. After only doing a half hour's worth of painting (doing her in the nude as he had easily talked her out of her robe), she'd seen his expression go from neutral to desire and longing. He'd questioned her with his eyes and she'd nodded. He'd reached for the jacket draped on the back of his chair, pulled a wrapped condom from one of its pockets.