by B. E. Baker
“I adore that name.”
“She’s a tough one, Gladys is.” Brekka smiles. “A lot of the high end chairs are titanium, but Trig had her specially made to fit my smaller frame. It makes her easier for me to manage.”
“I bet. The whole thing’s so narrow she might fit behind my seat, almost.”
“Fifteen inches,” she says. “Eighteen is standard, and sixteen is the typical narrow option. Gladys fits into even tight places, and she stows easier.”
“I can see that. Clive’s going to be so jealous.”
She smirks. “I bet. You know how we paraplegics get about our wheelchairs.”
I shake my head. “I guess I’m about to find out.”
Thankfully, Debbie starts up on the first try. She runs great usually, but if she’s going to throw a tantrum, it’s always when I have a guest I want to impress.
“What got you into old cars?” Brekka asks.
I shake my head. “Not sure, but Mom says I turned my head to watch them every time one drove by starting when I was like three years old.”
“That’s adorable. Does your dad love them?”
My belly laugh startles her. “He hates Little Debbie.”
“You named her after a cupcake?”
“Mom wouldn’t let us eat them growing up. Dad wouldn’t let me get an old car and work on it. The name just made sense for some reason. I’m an adult, so I can do all the things no one wants me to do.”
“You’re a rebel alright.”
“I sense your sarcasm, lady, and I don’t appreciate it. Neither does Little Debbie.”
“Well, I’d hate to upset a cream-filled treat like her. What other things have you done your parents don’t like?”
I scratch my jaw. “Dad wasn’t giddy when I enlisted. And I’m not married yet and making bratty grandkids for my parents to spoil.”
“You don’t like kids?” she asks.
I shrug. “I like them as much as anyone, I guess. My sister has two now, and they’re both really cute. I’m glad I’m not getting up in the middle of the night with them, but that’s kind of part of the deal, right?”
“Do you ever want any of your own?”
“Yeah, if I ever meet a woman I want to replicate.” I wink at her. “My sisters are like miniature versions of my mom, from their Kate Spade bags down to their sassy backtalk.”
“You sound like you love them.”
“My family squabbles like any family does, but yeah. I love all of them. They’re different and the same in the perfect proportions. I kind of think that’s what family is all about. Being similar enough we have common ground, but different enough that we’re interesting to spend time with.”
“How old are they?”
“I’m the oldest by seven years. Mom and Dad didn’t think they’d have any more. Then they had twins. Surprise!”
“I bet they were excited.”
“I was too, until the crying started anyway.” I make my zombie grimace face. “Suddenly I did all the dishes, took out the trash, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen counters and packed my own lunch. I went from a pampered only child to an indentured servant overnight.”
“Did you resent it?” Brekka taps her fingers on the doorframe and I can’t help noticing how delicate they are. Her nails aren’t long like a witch’s, but they’re long enough, and they’re painted pale pink. Her hands are utterly feminine.
I draw a ragged breath and focus on her question. “I didn’t resent it, no. I knew my parents wanted more kids, and I was kind of lonely if I’m being honest. Most of my friends had siblings. They complained about how awful they were, but I wanted anyone to play with, even if it was a girl who dressed me up for tea parties.”
Brekka laughs. “Did they really?”
I shake my head. “Nah, but they did follow me around unbearably, insisting I play basketball with them. They were horrible and exhausting and irritating for a really long time.”
“I kind of feel bad for my brother now. That sounds tiring.”
“I loved every second. And then, when my parents brought Beth home, our house finally felt right, like we had everyone who had been missing. Does that sound crazy?”
Brekka’s eyes fall. “I wonder if anyone at my house cared whether we were a complete family or not. By the time I was born, my mom and dad barely talked to each other most days. I do feel sorry for you, for being an only child for so long, I mean. Trig never seemed annoyed about me following him around, which was lucky for me.”
“You’re younger?”
She nods. “Almost five years, but only four years in school.”
“He taught you basketball?”
She shakes her head. “No, I never even tried playing basketball, but he took me skiing for the first time. That one time was all it took.”
“Right, I should have known. You’re from Colorado.”
She turns to face the window again, and I wish I knew what she was thinking.
“Until today, I never once wondered whether Trig was upset about having a little sister. He never acted anything but happy, as far back as I can recall.”
“That’s because he’s a smart guy.”
“I thought you two didn’t get along.”
“Ever seen two magnets?” I ask. “Opposites attract.”
“And two similarly charged magnets repel.”
“Something like that. I already respect Trig, and I’m sure with time I’ll like him well enough.”
We pull up in front of Clive’s house and I glance at Brekka to see how she reacts. Clive’s pension wasn’t enough to pay for much. Not everyone was as lucky as me, coming home to a supportive family with means. His father beat him regularly enough that he knew how to take a punch like a pro when we met. He enlisted to escape, which meant he had no safety net when a land mine took out his spine and his future.
“I helped him find this place. It’s got two bedrooms and it’s close to his job.”
“What does he do?” Brekka asks.
“He teaches P.E. at Moorhouse Elementary.”
Brekka laughs uncomfortably.
I touch her arm lightly. “I’m not kidding. He teaches P.E. He was a football star in high school not far from here, and he had a lot of friends. The school is pretty good at accommodating him when necessary, but he’s got a real way with the kids. They adore him.”
Brekka doesn’t reply, but she bobs her head and opens her door.
Clive’s waiting in an open doorway when we reach his house. Brekka rolls up the ramp and toward Clive like she isn’t worried at all that the tiny house with the bowed wood-siding will be below her standards.
“That’s an amazing ramp up to your front door,” Brekka says.
“Rob made it for me as a housewarming present.” Clive smiles warmly at Brekka and then turns to me. “You didn’t warn me you were bringing a gorgeous lady with you. My mom taught me not to poach, but I’d have showered, at least.”
I roll my eyes. I wasn’t kidding earlier. The ladies love Clive’s dreamy brown eyes, and he’s got at least a PhD in flirting. Part of me didn’t want to bring Brekka, but if she’s going to dump me for Clive, she may as well do it right away. It’ll hurt less.
“Wait, did you really?” Brekka asks. At first I can’t figure out what she’s asking, but then I notice she’s still staring at the ramp.
“Sure, I like to work with my hands.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me. “I thought you managed your family’s car dealerships.”
“My boy Rob is a modern day Renaissance man. Brilliant mind, and a genius with his hands. Did he tell you he restored that gorgeous truck himself?”
“He did not.” Brekka eyes me sideways. “But he should have.”
“Oh, please. Clive’s just being kind. I knew nothing about cars, and we restored that one together. He worked at a mechanic’s shop through all of high school. He taught me everything I know.”
“How about I admit that I’m now impressed with you both,�
� Brekka says. “The handiest thing my dad’s ever done is use talk-to-text on his phone to call for repairs. I can’t even add oil to my own cars. I have no idea where it would even go.”
I smile. “Surely Trig’s a little more capable than you and your dad.”
“Not hardly,” Brekka says. “He called his assistant last week to change a lightbulb. At his house.”
I store that little tidbit for later. “Did I mention Brekka is Trig’s fabulously wealthy little sister?” I ask Clive. “She’s the one he chucked his entire family trust at when he decided to take his vow of poverty for Geo.”
“Which means you’re what? A multibillionaire?” Clive’s eyes widen alarmingly. “I had no idea or I’d have been sure to order extra caviar when I sent my manservant to the market.”
Brekka rolls her eyes. “Hilarious. You two are so funny.”
“Wait, so you aren’t really rich?” Clive asks. “Because that’s one of my happiest fantasies. That I’ll meet and utterly charm Trig’s little sister. And now that we’ve met and I see how beautiful you are, it’s my very happiest fantasy.”
“Oh please. But the rich part is true enough. Tales of my wealth have been downplayed, really. I exclusively sit on solid gold toilets, and brush my teeth with unicorn hair imported from Narnia. But I hate caviar. It’s too fishy for me.”
“You brought her to my house with no notice, why again?” Clive asks.
“She couldn’t bear to be parted from me,” I say. “And I promised to come work here, so here I am.”
“Better get started then.” Clive wheels his way through the family room and into his modest kitchen. He’s already laid out the tools I need to install the remaining cabinet box.
“If you two want to start putting the hardware on the doors and drawers,” I say, “I’ll be ready to mount the fronts on the boxes shortly.”
Clive shows Brekka how to screw the hinges in and lets her use the electric screwdriver. She picks it up quickly. She makes a worthy assistant, and she never once complains. By the time we finish, there’s sawdust in her hair and a streak of dust on her cheek, but somehow, even with all that, she’s more dazzling than the first time I saw her. I wish this date never had to end, but thanks to Trig and Geo, I’ve got to get up early tomorrow morning. Way too early.
Once she’s in the truck, her wheelchair stowed away, I reluctantly put the car into gear to head for Trig’s house. I want to ask whether she had fun, but I know this is probably the worst date she’s ever been on. Sushi, hours from any coast, at a chain restaurant, followed by manual labor in a small house for someone she doesn’t know.
“Hey, thanks for convincing me to go with you to Clive’s house,” she says. “I’ve never spent much time talking to other people who have been through something like that.”
I nod, afraid to push.
“He’s a really good guy.”
“Not too good though, right? Because you promised you wouldn’t fall for him,” I remind her.
She giggles. “No, not that good. Plus, you’d think his arms might be a little more ripped, what with all the time he spends wheeling around.”
“Oh, you can make those jokes, but I can’t, huh?”
“After watching what you’re doing in there, I think you get a pass on poking fun at wheelchair users like me.”
“What, redoing some cabinets for a dear friend?” I ask. “I don’t think that entitles me to much.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve never really thought about what life would be like for me right now if I didn’t have so much money to smooth the way.”
A private jet, a hired driver the very second she wants one. The world is her platinum-dipped, diamond-encrusted oyster. But how would she realize that, from inside the shell?
“I wonder how many people who use wheelchairs don’t have the resources to modify their homes, or buy the right equipment.”
“A lot,” I say. “And it’s not a sexy cause like AIDS or PETA.”
She barks a laugh. “How are AIDS and PETA sexy?”
“I’m just saying, you don’t see a bunch of movie stars pushing for disabled people. After all, most wheelchair users are stable, which means they’re ‘fine.’ It’s just their entire quality of life that’s at stake.”
I wish I could do more for Clive and people like him. One day, maybe I’ll have the chance. But it’s good enough for now to know that Brekka had a decent time at least, and that Clive’s cabinets are essentially done.
5
Brekka
I didn’t think I’d enjoy building cabinets, but I was wrong. This turned out to be the best date of my life, which doesn’t sound very impressive since I haven’t been out with anyone in years and years. But it’s so much better than any of the ones I remember before, and I used to do far more exciting things. Maybe it really is about the person you’re with, not the things you do.
Or maybe I liked helping someone instead of letting other people wait on me for a change. Either way, I’m a little disappointed when Rob starts Little Debbie and heads, I assume, toward Trig’s house to drop me off.
“How long are you staying in town?” Rob asks.
“I’ll probably leave tomorrow.”
He clucks. “That’s too bad. I’d love to see you again. If you could stay longer, maybe we could do something Sunday?”
Wait, Sunday? If he wants to see me again, why not Saturday? “What’s going on tomorrow? Big day at the dealerships?”
“Trig didn’t tell you?” His brow furrows.
I pull my phone out of my purse and realize I’ve gotten six texts and two phone calls from my brother. “I haven’t exactly been chatting with him the past few hours.”
Two hours ago Trig texted, WHERE ARE YOU?
Then, ARE YOU COMING?
An hour ago. ARE YOU STILL AT DINNER?
Right after that, he texted, I’M GOING TO KILL ROB. I KNEW HE WAS A PERVERT. WHY AREN’T YOU RESPONDING TO ME??
Ten minutes ago. I’M CALLING THE POLICE IF YOU DON’T TEXT ME BACK IN FIVE MINUTES.
Five minutes ago. I’M DRIVING OVER TO HIS HOUSE AGAIN AND THIS TIME I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.
I laugh. “Trig may or may not be at your place right now, depending.”
Rob lifts one eyebrow, pretty unconcerned. “Depending on what?”
“On how far you live from him, and whether he actually called the police.”
He chuckles. “I’m around the corner. Which means he’s probably already there. So he told you we have plans early tomorrow?”
“Wait, what are you doing?”
Rob turns a corner and I see an agitated Trig in a tuxedo peering into the front window of a small, old, farm-style home, sitting on an enormous lot. The fence encloses an acre at least.
“I’m surprised none of your neighbors called the cops.”
Rob grins. “We kind of keep to ourselves. I doubt any of them even noticed. You’ve heard of neighborhood watch? We feature the ‘neighborhood mind your own business club.’ We’d meet periodically, but then we’d have to, you know, communicate with each other and that’s against our bylaws.”
“Cute.”
He pulls into the driveway and puts his classic car in neutral, right next to Trig’s Vantage. They couldn’t be more different. I think about Rob comparing himself and my brother to similarly charged magnets and I wonder about the wisdom of the comparison.
Rob rolls down his window, cranking it one spin at a time. “Hey, Trig! Your sister’s whole and hale and completely safe. I was headed for your house when she realized you’d gone full-on creeper and redirected me here.”
Trig’s frown consumes his entire face as he looks past Rob toward me. “Where have you been?”
“Where have you been?” I eye his tux.
“The Berkman party, I’d guess,” Rob says. “Geo’s been frantically working on last minute details all week.”
“Yep, I left her party to meet you at home, but then you never showed.”
“A
nd you never changed? Too busy wringing your hands as you waited by the phone?” Rob’s trying to suppress his smile, but he’s not succeeding very well. “Or are those your pajamas? I will never understand the mega-wealthy and their obsession with penguin suits.”
Trig’s eye twitches. “I was waiting to change until I found out whether Brekka wanted to hang out with me at home, or borrow something from Geo and go to the party. Pardon me for being comfortable in clothes that look amazing.”
“It’s more the disconnect between the tux and the crawling through shrubbery to peep into my window that’s entertaining me the most,” Rob says. “Find anything interesting? I think my next cabal meeting isn’t for almost two weeks, but my fridge full of human body parts is always stocked.”
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“You can make all the jokes you want, but you took my sister to dinner, and three hours later I still haven’t heard word one from her.” Trig shoves his hands in his pockets casually, but he must be melting to death. It’s far too hot for him to be comfortable outside in all those layers.
Rob sighs dramatically. “We went to my buddy’s house to work on his cabinets. I’m sorry I didn’t call and check in with you first. Since Brekka’s potty-trained, I didn’t realize I needed to. But if I’d thought about it, I’d have made sure she checked her phone and made sure you knew she wasn’t headed back yet. I really am sorry it was stressful for you. Also, I had no way of knowing Brekka wasn’t paying attention to her phone. Mine was in my pocket all night. Maybe call me next time before driving all the way over to throttle me.”
“Sound advice, as always.” Trig circles the truck and opens my door.
I grab one of my wheels from behind the seat and hold it out to him. He takes it, grabs the other too, and starts back around his truck toward the Vantage.
“Uh, hello?” I ask.
Trig stops and turns toward me. “You don’t need to assemble the entire chair just to wheel over to my car, right?” Trig glances at Gladys’ frame where it rests in the truck bed. “It’s like ten feet.”
“I guess not.” But I need to get to Trig’s car, and I’d rather not look ridiculous. Now he either has to carry me like a baby, or I have to act like a baby about him not carrying me.
