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‘’Just when he’d slowly gotten to his feet, determined to find out how the other band members had fared, he saw the flames. There was no warning, no sound that preceded the explosion and he’d had just enough time to wonder if he should duck, run, or both when the fire suddenly had seemed all around him and he was thrown backwards violently. He may have gone through the already crystallized front window, he didn’t remember. All he remembered was telling himself that these were probably the last seconds of his life as he knew it and that he should be glad that at least, it would happen quickly.’’

By the time the door finally opens, I am drenched in sweat, pissed off and sore. I had clenched my teeth to keep from any sound escaping as I feel the painful spasms running freely through my left leg. Over the weeks, I have become fairly used to my leg protesting with pretty much anything I do, but that doesn’t mean I like it, let alone that I should be forced to sit through it. I have a wide range of colorful painkillers in the kitchen.

A kitchen I can’t reach.

I stared at the opening door with the most intense gaze I could muster. I am moderately surprised to not see my brother, but my cousin walking in, pushing the wheelchair without a worry in the world.

“Kevin?” I ask, astonished, momentarily forgetting to maintain the angry stare on my face. When did he get here? Why am I not informed of anything that’s going on around me anymore these days?

“Oh, I just arrived,” Kevin says as if he is reading my thoughts. He could be scary like that sometimes, like he knew what you were thinking about with just one single look into your eyes. With some amount of precision, he places the wheelchair right next to the chair in which I am sitting. “Your brother told me what happened.”

“I bet he didn’t tell you everything,” I grumble, shifting as I feel another spasm.

Kevin looks at me with worry, which is nothing new.

Basically, he’s looked at me with worry for the past three years, ever since he returned. I usually always tell him I’m fine and he usually always pretends to believe me. We’ve gotten by like that for a long time.

“I think he told me everything I needed to know.”

“Did he say how much of an ass he was to leave me sitting here in pain?” I growl, forgetting for a minute that I am mad at my brother and not at Kevin.

“Yes,” Kevin answers flatly, then grabs my arm when he sees I’m trying to move into the wheelchair. I swat him away angrily, “he also mentioned how stubborn you are when it comes to accepting help.”

With a satisfied grunt, I finally manage to get into the chair. All by myself, thank you very much. Kevin sounds surprised when he talks about me being stubborn.

I really wonder why. It’s nothing new, I’ve always been stubborn about accepting help. If you are forced to prove you are not weak for most of your entire life, wouldn’t you be stubborn?

I don’t tell him any of that as I grab the wheels and start rolling towards the still open door. Now that I am somewhat mobile again, the first thing I am going to do is find my brother and run him over. Kevin seems fairly surprised at my proficiency and speed when it comes to the wheelchair. But given the fact that he hasn’t bothered to visit in two months, I am not surprised at his surprise.

He runs after me in that clumsy way of his, yelling something about us needing to talk. I’ve done enough talking, it was now time for some action.

I wheel myself through the hallway skillfully, deciding that I would most likely find my brother in the kitchen. Opening the door with practiced ease; I roll inside, a smirk of satisfaction covering my face when I see my brother indeed in the kitchen. His eyes widen and he gets up immediately, seemingly scared of the promise of pain in my eyes.

Without a moment of hesitation, I wheel me and the chair straight into him, connecting the hard metal front with both of his legs.

“Ow!” Harold howls, grabbing his shins. He looks at me in astonishment while gingerly rubbing the pain away.

“There! Hurts, doesn’t it?” I sneer with an evil smirk.

Somewhere, I kind of hope he’ll get two extremely colorful bruises which will hurt for a long time. Just to give him some kind of taste of what I have been through.

“What the hell was that for, Brian?” He yells angrily, finally sitting down when he determines that I am not likely to repeat the action.

“That’s for leaving me in the gym for thirty minutes,” I grumble, turning around and rolling to the counter.

“Could you open that cupboard?”

“Oh sure, now he wants my help,” Harold mumbles and I roll my eyes at his sarcasm. He does as I asked anyway and opens the cupboard door, grabbing the bottle of painkillers from the shelf. “Here, not more than one.”

I roll my eyes again, fetching the bottle from his hand. “Fine,” I mutter, taking two anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to, if my brother hadn’t left me sitting there on my own after therapy for half an hour.

After a few minutes, the stabbing pain in my leg lessens and I am able to relax a little bit more. I turn around, looking at Kevin, who’s been silently observing us from the other side of the kitchen. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

Kevin nods and takes a seat at the kitchen table. I place the wheelchair carefully in the open spot that has been designated for me a while ago. I already know what he wants. I know what he came for, and I know we’re probably gonna have a fight about it. I pointedly clear my throat. Harold jumps up and walks to the door, “Yeah, you kids talk it out,” he mumbles before leaving.

“I’m not coming, Kev,” I state clearly, before wheeling backwards.

“Wait,” Kevin commands sternly in a voice that leaves no doubts about its seriousness. “We are going to talk about this.”

“No,” I answer slowly, “You are going to try to convince me you are right. I’m not gonna give in. Then we start yelling, until eventually, you are going to leave pissed, and not come over for another two months,” I theorize, remembering the similar situation two months ago, at the welcome home party AJ had organized.

Kevin’s face falls as he also remembers that event.

“You could at least try and not leave everybody in the dark about what’s going to happen.”

“Nobody knows what’s going to happen, Kev. And I don’t appreciate the pressure you guys are putting on me all of the time,” I sigh, realizing we’ve started this conversation anyway, despite my efforts to avoid it.

We’ve had the ‘pressure’ conversation more than once, but he still doesn’t seem to understand it.

“I’m not putting you under pressure, cuz, I just want to know where you’re at, we all do,” Kevin explains patiently.

I sigh, avoiding his staring eyes by focusing my attention on keeping the wheelchair in balance as I lift the front wheels in the air and balance on the backwheels. It’s fun, it’s moderately dangerous. That is kind of my style. “If I told you,” I mutter thoughtfully, “that it’s exactly where it was at two months ago, wouldn’t you be disappointed?”

“Of course not!” Kevin says indignantly, “And that’s not true at all! Look at you! You’re mobile and pretty fast. You just drove your brother of his socks to gain revenge! You can do more than you think, Brian.”

I scoff and shake my head, letting the front wheels land on the floor before sending them back up again, “Oh yeah?” I grumble, “I can’t walk without two solid bars to hold on to. Even then I’m going at fifteen feet an hour. I need my brother and my wife to help me to the bathroom. And unless you are willing to help me take a shower, I’m gonna be reeking of sweat for the rest of the day.”

“It’s gonna get better, Brian,” Kevin sighs, knowing I’ve been told that exact same phrase over and over again ever since the accident. “But it’s not gonna happen overnight.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, balancing a little higher in the air for my own satisfaction.

“Could you stop that?” Kevin comments, “You’re gonna break your neck too?”

I smile, recognizing some of the old, annoying Kevin in his voice. I ignore his request completely, expertly keeping my balance, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do,” Kevin mutters, “Until you don’t. You seem to forget you’re forty.”

“And I’m already in a wheelchair, Kev. Can’t I have some fun?” I ask sweetly. Somehow, I am enjoying this banter more than anything I’ve enjoyed during the past two months.

“If fun is another trip to the ER for you, than no, you can’t have some fun,” Kevin comments in exasperation as he gets up and walks to the coffee machine on the counter. “You should rehire that nurse you fired if you have trouble accepting the help from your brother and wife.”

I grunt in disapproval, “No way. She was a mean bitch.”

Kevin turns around and looks at me, his eyebrows raised as he stirs his coffee thoughtfully, “If my sources are correct, you were the one being a mean bitch.”

“If those sources are my brother, he’s lying,” I comment, finding enjoyment in wheeling myself around the table a few times. I may not be able to move freely very much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to get rid of an excessive amount of energy that always seems to be stored up somewhere. I can see it’s annoying Kevin to no end, which actually gives me even more energy to do so. That’s kind of how that system works, I guess.

“Then hire another one,” Kevin suggests and I crane my neck to look at him.

“Do you know how much homecare costs?” I ask.

“According to my sources, you have no trouble throwing money away.”

I stop dead in my track and turn around instantly, shooting Kevin a fiery glare, “If this is about the legs, I had all the right reasons to send them back.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Kevin mutters, sipping his coffee and avoiding my intense gaze.

“It’s not even any of your business!” I exclaim incredulously. Did Kevin really think he could just come over after two months and tell me stuff like this? “What exactly have you been doing for two months that’s a good enough excuse? It’s like heart surgery all over again! Why do you show up all of a sudden to tell me how to live my life?” The anger I promised myself not to let through is steadily boiling up inside me. Kevin did have some nerve.

“All I’m saying is that you could have kept a leg,” Kevin grunts, not impressed by my angry tone.

“You don’t know that! It’s not your leg! Your leg is fine! You don’t need to try on other legs to see it they fit or not, so how can you even say that?”

Kevin looks at me, his features softening. I know that look. It’s the Look of Pity. I’ve been thrown that look before. “You’re right,” Kevin mutters softly, “I’m sorry. I should have come over sooner.”

I sighed, nodding, “I’m sorry too. For yelling.”

At least Kevin did come over. The only other one of my friends I’ve seen during this period is AJ, and I suspect that’s because he feels responsible for some odd reason. I’ve tried to tell him that he’s not responsible for a bus crash in the middle of a storm, but he won’t have any of it. He comes over, stays a few days and then leaves again. It’s alright. We have fun during those days, but he is so awkward when it comes to my slow recovery.

Kevin’s phones buzzes and he frowns, looking down to check it. He sighs. “Nick,” he informs me matter-of-factly. “He wants to know if we talked yet and if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Business meeting,” Kevin says.

“And he can’t send me a text personally why?” I ask in annoyance.

“I have no idea. That kid is being extremely confusing these last few weeks. I have a feeling he needs to tell us something important, but chickens out at the last possible second.”

I nod. That did sound like my younger band mate. “Maybe’s he’s leaving.”

“What? Nick?” Kevin mutters incredulously, “Never.”

“He’s not the most patient one in the world,” I counter. With me being down for at least a good six months, Nick was bound to be considered a fugitive sooner or later. But Kevin was probably right. For Nick to actually leave, would be the last thing to happen.

Kevin’s phone buzzes again, indicating Nick’s impatience. I roll my eyes, “Fine, I’ll be there, tell him that,” I mumble, already reluctant to be forced to go out into the outside world tomorrow.


In public.