Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I yank the machine, pulling the plug from the wall. However, the knock on my door stops me from having the machine in pieces on my floor.
Placing the coffee brewer back on the counter, my hands come down on the cold metal of the wheels to push.
Wheeling myself to the door, I pause.
Breathe in. Put myself together. Show no weakness. Breathe out.
As soon as I open the door, my brother barrels in, causing me to automatically wheel backward.
“I’ve gotta clean this dump up,” Evan says, dropping a bucket filled with rags and cleaning supplies in front of me. He looks me up and down slowly then smirks. “I’ve gotta clean you up, too. The scruff really isn’t your style, bro.”
I run my hand over the shadow I’m sporting. It’s not my usual, but the damn sink is higher than I can maneuver around, as well as the mirror. Pedestal sink. The realtor said it was a selling feature in my condo. Pain in my ass is what it has become, just like everything else in this place.
I used to love taking the stairs to my fifth floor ocean view with its two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Now I can’t even stand to look at the steps, much less think about taking them.
The bathroom sink isn’t my only challenge now that I’m home. I have a chair in my walk-in shower so my broke ass can wash my balls by myself. I also had someone buy me one of those elongated grab tools so I could reach shit I had no problem taking out of an upper cabinet before. My apartment, apparently, isn’t very handicap friendly.
I have to park my chair at an awkward angle to get the dishes out of the sink and put them in the dishwasher. My chair barely fits through the bedroom doorways, and sometimes, I scrape the paint off the doorframes, which surprised the fuck out of me the first time it happened, because the realtor told me since the apartment was a “bit upscale,” it came with a few rare touches like a higher ceiling, a wider hallway, and bigger doorways.
I am thinking of calling my old realtor and telling that bitch the doorways aren’t big enough.
The other day while I was drinking a beer I wasn’t supposed to have, I gave in to the morbid curiosity of looking up what wheelchair accessible apartments look like. I probably shouldn’t have done that. It only pissed me off more.
Open spaces underneath sinks, lower countertops, wider doorways, and nothing but lower cabinets looked super fucking convenient to a guy who has struggled with a $19.99 late night TV special Grab It and Go piece of shit to get his cups and other shit out of the upper cabinets.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about how much easier life was when I had the use of my legs. No slippery chairs in my shower to drag my useless ass on and off of. No worries about sinks or cabinets. Not to mention, it would be nice to have a warm, wet pussy to lose myself in instead of abusing the alcohol I bribed the college kid across the way to bring me. Now I have to find a way to get rid of all the whiskey and beer bottles before Evan sees them.
What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger. If that isn’t the biggest crock of shit I have ever been sold in my life.
I have watched my brothers-in-arms die painfully and far too young. The things that will bring a man to his knees.
This is a torture worse than any enemy could ever give me. I’m helpless.
I was strong. Now I am weak.
Life’s a cruel joke. I can’t do shit.
“Hammer,” Evan calls out, distracting me from my wallowing. “Get with it, brother.” He tosses a rag to me, and I raise an eyebrow. “Mom taught us to clean, so get to it. Chop, chop.”
“Look here, Chipper Chuck—”
“I prefer Chip and Dale, but whatever.” He laughs.
“Why the fuck are you worried about the state of my place suddenly?”
He smiles the smile that wins all the ladies and gets him the most tips at the club. “Ice has someone coming to stay with you.”
Anger boils inside me, and I throw the rag at him. “I don’t need a damn babysitter. What is wrong with you people? I’d rather be dead than have someone in my house, watching over me and wiping my fucking ass.” I am screaming while my brother stands in front of me with shock on his face. “I wish the car would have plowed over me, not just damaged me.” I move to wheel away, but Evan moves in front of me.
“Stop that shit right now!” He leans down and gets in my face. “This is not who you are! This is not the man who brought me from the edge and gave me a reason to dig myself out of the depths of my own hell. You will not die! You should not be in this fucking chair, but you are, so we deal. What you do not do is wallow! You understand me, McCoy! We are better than our lowest points. You taught me that. Don’t show me your actions don’t back up your own words. Don’t give any doubt to all the things you told me to get me through my lowest. Don’t do it, Ethan. You are better than this, stronger than this, and together, we can move mountains, remember?”