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Chapter 3: Change My Mind

My morning starts off rather slow. Despite the entire room being handicapped, it still takes me a while to get up, shower, and get dressed. But because I refused to let anyone help me change, I'm used to the struggle.

Without luggage to carry, getting down to the free continental breakfast is a breeze, and it's rather late in the morning (I slept longer than I intended), so it's empty enough that I can move around in my wheelchair with ease. I sit alone at a table to eat and then head back up to the room. There's a desk low enough to the ground for me to use with my wheelchair, so I decide to pull out my sketchbook and work on some rough drafts for paintings to complete later on, when I'm back in the comfort of my home and makeshift art studio.

VIP early entry for the concert is 4pm, so I plan to leave by 3 to give me plenty of time to get where I need to be. I don't have VIP tickets, but if what Aven said on the interview is true, I should be able to get in with no problem. I have to order delivery for lunch, which is pretty expensive, but it's easier than trying to wheel myself around Las Vegas looking for somewhere to eat.

After lunch, I did a little research on my phone to figure out the best route for me once I get to the venue, which is a twenty-minute taxi ride from the hotel. It's a relief that I can leave all my luggage, because if I had to bring any of it with me, I'd never make it. As I'm sitting in the lobby, waiting for my handicap taxi, my phone rings. Of course it's my mom.

"Hi mom," I say.

"Hi honey, how is it going?" my mother asks.

"Well, despite dad's hotel lacking in handicap services, it's been going pretty well," I say.

"Oh dear, did you get to your room alright?" she asks.

"With a little help, yeah. Coming back will be a different story, but I'm not sure when that will be, anyway," I say.

"Well, your father can always take a day off and go down to pick you up," she says.

"I am not letting dad fly down to Las Vegas just to get me and fly right back. I'll get help again. Don't worry about it," I say.

"You know I have to worry," she says.

"If you tried hard enough, you wouldn't," I say.

"Be nice to me, Noa. You're giving me grey hairs," she jokes. I laugh.

"Whatever. But really, I'm fine. My taxi is pulling up now. I need to go," I say.

"Alright honey, I love you. Be safe," she says.

"I will. I love you too," I say before hanging up the phone. The taxi driver opens the door for me, and I climb inside. He loads up my wheelchair and we begin the drive down to the venue.

"So, you're going to that AvenCallister concert?" the driver says to strike up conversation.

"Yeah, I am," I say.

"Excited?" he asks.

"Yeah, definitely," I say, to sound normal. But honestly, I'm not excited. I'm churning with nerves. This is where everything falls into place.

"My name is George. I'll probably be your ride back," he says.

"I'm Noa. Nice to meet you," I say.

"Could I ask a little favor? In exchange for your ride back? I don't normally stay out this late, but there won't be anyone to pick you up, if I don't," George says.

"Um, sure, thanks. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that," I say.

"Don't mention it. I was just wondering if you could take this poster, it belongs to my daughter. Could you get him to sign it? You've got VIP right? Or you wouldn't be going so early," he says, handing me the poster.