My Perfect Imperfections (7 page)

“Just wanna catch up. How was your Christmas?”

How was my Christmas? It sucked! Every holiday has sucked since Layna’s death. I purposefully don’t answer him.

“Okay, fine, we don’t want to small talk. I’ll be straight up with you. I want to get to know you better, Lily. You seem like a cool girl and well…maybe we can try to be friends?”

I finally face him. Still suspicious, I use my device. “Why?”

“Why not?” Chance raises one eyebrow as a tiny smirk plays at the corner of his mouth.

I sigh. This is useless. “You’re a teacher here, not a student. Why did you say you were a student?”

“I
am
taking classes here. I’m also a teacher’s assistant for a couple of the classes. I only attend school part time here. Actually, I work full time as a nurse, but want to get more classes under my belt before applying to medical schools. So, that’s what I’m doing here.”

He’s a nurse? And he wants to be a physician. Well, now it all makes sense. No wonder he’s drawn to me. He probably sees me as one of his patients.

“Look, don’t treat me like one of your patients, okay?” I blurt out. Luckily, I’ve gotten pretty fast at using my communication device, so there’s not too much of a delay when I respond.

At first his eyes widen in surprise. Then, he laughs—an outright, full-blown laughter. He must have laughed for full fifteen seconds. This may not seem long, but as I sit there staring at him in disbelief, those fifteen seconds seem like an eternity.

When he finally is able to contain himself, he says, “Trust me, Lily. I definitely do not see you as one of my patients since I work in a nursing home, and the average age is over eighty.”

“Do you have a hero complex or something?”

Chance laughs again. “What? Isn’t that like somebody who deliberately does bad things like setting fires and then tries to act like the hero?”

I roll my eyes.

“Do I need to have a specific reason to talk to a pretty girl?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes at him, still suspicious of his intent. “Are you trying to flirt?”

“I’m not trying to flirt. I
am
flirting.” Chance throws me his lopsided grin.

“You’re my teacher. Teachers are not supposed to flirt with their students. Aren’t there rules against that?” In those short moments, he has put me at ease, and my feisty personality surfaces.

“Well, technically I’m not your teacher. I’m just a teacher’s assistant. I’m sure that’s different.”

“You’re sure, huh?”

“Yep, pretty sure. Are you done for the day?”

“Yes. My dad will be here soon to get me.”

“I see. I’m back again on Wednesday for that class. Can we meet after class? Maybe we can do lunch together.”

Lunch? Does he not realize I can’t feed myself? I quickly look away.

Immediately sensing his mistake, Chance says, “Err, okay, I screwed that one up. We can just talk after class here until your ride comes. I don’t mind that.”

“Why? What do you want to talk about?”

“We’re back to the same question again? I told you, you’ve caught my attention. To be honest, I’ve been watching you for a while now. I think they call people like me stalkers. Don’t say I never warned you.”

That makes me laugh.

“Finally! You need to do that more often,” Chance says, his hazel eyes turning darker.

I look at him in confusion.

“Laugh. I love hearing you laugh. Remember to laugh more.”

I look away. He’s right, of course. I can’t remember laughing like that since Layna’s been gone.

“Shit. Looks like I hit a nerve. I’m sorry, Lily. Do you want to talk about it?” Chance reaches to hold my hand.

This time, I don’t pull away. This time, I enjoy the human touch. I slowly shake my head no, not willing to open any wounds.

Chance stares out of the window with me, but he keeps his hand on mine. Suddenly embarrassed by the intimate touch, I slide my hand away. The only people who have hugged, kissed, or held my hands have been my parents and Layna.

I think he must have forgotten that he was holding my hand because he, too, briefly looks embarrassed. His teasing smirk quickly returns, though, and he says, “There’s your dad. We’ll talk again on Wednesday. I don’t want him to find me with you again, or he really will think I’m some kind of a crazy stalker.”

I flash him a quick smile, and he soon disappears down the hall with his long strides.

For the next few months, Chance and I talk after class every Monday and Wednesday. The conversations remain light, but soon we both begin to feel comfortable with one another. I see Chance not only for his good looks, but I soon appreciate him for his intelligence. Chance has a gift of making people feel at ease, and every day, he has me laughing at his sarcastic sense of humor. Sometimes, I even tell my dad to pick me up a bit later so I can spend more time with Chance.

He calls me beautiful often in our conversations. I convince myself that he’s just a nice guy and probably says that to make me feel good. It’s not that nobody has ever called me beautiful before. I’ve heard it from my parents, Layna, therapists, and even my teachers. Aren’t they supposed to say that, though? I mean, my parents are always going to think I’m beautiful. I’m their child for God’s sake. As far as the teachers and therapists go, I’m sure they are trained to help students’ self-esteems. The teachers probably tell all their students that, especially the ones with special needs.

But one night, I drive my wheelchair to the mirror in my room and stare at my reflection. I’ve never paid too much attention to my looks. Usually, my mom or my personal helpers pull my hair up in a ponytail or a bun. I never wear makeup unless it’s for a special occasion. As I look in the mirror, for the first time in my life, I actually see a pretty girl staring back at me. I notice my large, almond-shaped, emerald green eyes, surrounded by long, black eyelashes. My porcelain skin is a sharp contrast against my dark hair. I must have gotten the dark hair from my mother’s Italian side, while Layna had the blonde hair from Dad’s Swedish side.

I touch my face and smile.

For the first time, I realize that I
am
pretty.

For the first time in my life, I don’t notice that I’m in a wheelchair.

Over the weekend, my parents and I head to the mall to shop. I’m looking forward to buying some new clothes. Normally, I don’t even enjoy shopping. My mom usually buys my clothes since I’ve never really cared about what I wear. This time, though, I want to pick out my own outfits and look nice, especially at the college.

After shopping for a few hours—content with my new wardrobe—we start heading out. To my surprise, just as we’re about to exit the mall, Chance walks in. Shocked, I almost run my wheelchair into the wall. I force myself to settle myself down and avoid making an utter fool out of myself.

He notices me instantly and smiles. As he approaches us, I notice a tall woman, who appears to be in her twenties, walking alongside him. My mouth drops open when I notice her gorgeous looks. She has long auburn hair, blue eyes, and she’s very confident as she strides toward us. Chance must be over six feet and she’s at least 5 feet 8 inches. With her heels on, she looks like a model next to him. To be honest, they look like a Hollywood couple.

“Lily, hey! Fancy seeing you here,” Chance says when he reaches us.

I continue to stare, dumbfounded, with my mouth still open in shock.

“Oh, hi there! Chance, right?” Dad saves the day by intervening and allowing me some time to compose myself. “Honey, this is Chance, Lily’s friend.”

“Oh, yes. Hi, Chance. It’s so nice to meet you,” Mom says, sounding overly cheerful. She can tell that not only am I shocked, but also distressed.

“Chance, are you going to introduce us?” asks the woman I already hate. How can anybody look so perfect?

“Err, yeah. Sorry about that. This is Beca. And Beca, this is Lily and her parents.” Chance moves next to me.

“Oh, of course! This is your special friend from college. I’ve heard such great things about you, Lily.” Beca leans toward me, talking slowly and loudly, as if I can’t understand what she’s saying.

It’s official. I hate her. She’s patronizing me and treating me like a child. I don’t know which is worse.

With my device, I answer, “Actually, there’s nothing special about me. I’m just Lily. Oh, and by the way, just because I have Cerebral Palsy doesn’t mean I’m deaf and can’t understand you. You don’t have to talk loud.” I simply can’t resist.

While Mom looks mortified, Chance chuckles under his breath and Dad tries to hide his smile.

“Oh, of course, Lily. I didn’t mean…” As Beca keeps talking, I turn my wheelchair toward the door and exit out. It may have been rude, but I have no desire to listen to her condescending tone any longer. Yes, I’ve been used to it my entire life, but I’m done putting up with ignorant people.

Once in the van, Mom asks, “Wow, Lily. What was that about?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” I abruptly answer.

“Hey, I’m glad you put her back in her place. She looked like a total ditz to me,” Dad chimes in.

I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but it doesn’t help. As much as I fight thinking about it, I fail miserably. Chance has never mentioned that he has a girlfriend. Well, why would he need to mention that to me? I mean, he’s just intrigued by me. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a life. Just because all I do is go to school and come home, with no social life at all, doesn’t mean his is the same. As a matter of fact, with his charismatic personality, I’m sure he has a very active social lifestyle.

Maybe she’s not his girlfriend, but I push the thought away quickly. She seemed too familiar with him, and he has obviously talked about me to her. How dare he say anything about me to his girlfriend?

As soon as we arrive home, I rush to my room. I want to be left alone. This is all my fault. I’ve allowed myself to dream. Haven’t I learned by now that dreaming will only lead to disappointments?

For the rest of the weekend, I mostly stay to myself. I don’t want to go to class next week. I’m just not ready to see him. How can I possibly explain my irrational behavior to him? And knowing him, he will confront me about it.

On Monday, I decide I’m too sick to go to my classes and will get the online notes. I have no desire to see Chance. As a matter of fact, I need to start distancing myself from him. That’s the only way I’ll be able to protect myself from getting hurt.

My personal helper, Lauren, comes to help me during the day. Although I stay in bed most of the morning, Lauren eventually forces me to take a shower and come out of my room for lunch. After eating, I hide myself back in my room.

Since Layna’s passing, I listen to
The Lonely
by Christina Perri quite a bit. Layna used to love dancing to
Perfect
with me, but I refuse to play that song since Layna’s been gone. Instead, I lose myself in the lyrics of
The Lonely
. When I’m feeling down, that song is perfect for me. I like to lock myself in my room and blast that song. Today is one of those days.

I play the song on repeat, torturing myself with every line—every word.

I don’t even hear the knock on my door when Lauren walks in. “Lily, you have a visitor.”

Confused, I turn to see who the hell would visit me. I almost fall out of my wheelchair when I see Chance stroll in behind Lauren. My eyes must have bulged out of my sockets because Chance can’t hide his smirk.

“Seems like you guys know each other. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, Lily.” Lauren turns to leave. Before she closes the door, she points to Chance and mouths, “Hot!” Luckily, his back is still to her, so he doesn’t notice the exchange.

“Surprised to see me?” Chance asks.

Surprised? That’s putting it mildly!

“How did you know where I live? What are you doing here?” I fire off the questions with my device.

“Being a teacher’s assistant does have some perks. For example, I already have all of the students’ names, numbers, and addresses. When I didn’t see you in class, I was worried. So, I wanted to check on you.”

“I don’t need you to check on me. I’m fine!” I’m really starting to believe that he thinks of me as some sort of a subject on whatever experiment he’s doing. A part of me is happy to see him, but another part of me is infuriated that he’s checking up on me like I’m a child.

“I can see you’re fine! Why didn’t you come to class, then?”

“Not your business!” Damn, I wish I can make this device yell at him. I’m pretty sure, though, that he can see from the expression on my face how angry I’m becoming. Just then, the song ends and starts again.

“And, why do you have this song on repeat? Wow, talk about a depressing song!” Chance walks toward me.

“What do you want?” I finally ask. Clearly, he’s not planning on leaving.

Chance waits a few seconds, contemplating. He sets his lips in a thin line and says, “Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me, Lily. And, we’re going to dance to this song.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No!” I repeat. What is wrong with this guy?

Chance ignores me and removes my leg rests out of the way. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Cooper?”

“No,” I yell, this time with my own voice. It may not have been the perfect “no,” but he hears me loud and clear.

He laughs under his breath and says, “You are adorable when you’re mad.”

Does he think this is a joke? Without saying anything further, Chance takes my seat belt off and stands me up. He must realize that I can’t support my full weight on my legs because he has a good hold around my torso. Once my feet touch the floor, he brings me into his embrace and sways to the music. Even though at first I feel uneasy, I eventually allow myself to relax. This actually feels really good. I’ve never been held this close by anybody but my family.

I rest my head on his chest as the haunting lyrics fill the room. Chance holds me tighter, and I feel his strength and power spread through me. He makes me feel secure…protected. I feel his fingers run through my hair as his soft caresses send shivers down my spine. I sigh, knowing I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.

Once the song finishes, Chance assists me to sit back down in my wheelchair. After securing me, he sets up the communication device so I can access it.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, every time you listen to this depressing song, hopefully, you’ll have some happy memories associated with it.” Chance sits back down on my bed.

I can’t help but smile because I do feel much better.

“Now, that’s what I like to see. So, tell me whose pictures are all over your room.” Chance picks up Layna’s photo from my bedside table.

He’s right. My room is covered with Layna’s pictures, and her empty bed still sits on the other side. I’ve refused to allow my parents to move any of her things out of my room. It’s been three years since she’s been gone, but I’m still not ready to let her go.

“My sister,” I reply.

Chance looks at me and frowns. “I didn’t know you had a sister. For some reason, I thought you were an only child.”

“She died,” I simply say.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, Lily. Do you want to talk about it?”

I abruptly shake my head no.

“Ok, fair enough. Listen, I also stopped by because I’m embarrassed by my friend’s behavior the other day. Beca can be clueless at times. She’s just wrapped up in her own world. I was waiting all weekend to talk to you. When you didn’t show up to class, I couldn’t wait any longer to get it off of my chest. So I decided to head over here. I’ve been feeling bad about it.”

“Why are you dating such a clueless person?” I know it’s not my business, but he’s the one who called her clueless.

“I’m not dating her,” Chance says, surprised.

I remain silent but look away.

“She’s my friend, Lily. If you must know, then yes, we did date a long time ago. We were in high school, but we grew apart. We’re completely different people now. Beca was in town, so we hung out on Saturday. That’s it. She’s definitely not my girlfriend nor do I have any feelings toward her like that.”

A part of me is relieved, but the more cautious part—the one that keeps the invisible walls up—wonders if he’s telling the truth. What can I say about it, though? I have no right to ask any more questions about the matter, nor do I have the right to feel jealous.

After I remain silent, Chance says, “Can I ask you a question?”

I glance toward him, now curious.