Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 16

Jamal Kuno is the president of this rehab facility. He's this huge Jamaican dude who has to be at least seven-feet-tall. Okay, maybe not that tall. My newly abased position in this chair makes everyone seem at least a foot taller than they actually are, but even still, he is very tall. And the grip behind his iron handshake makes me feel more weak and feeble than I did before. Apparently, he wanted to make my acquaintance after hearing that I had been admitted here. I guess mother informed him over the phone of my recent backstory on how I became a plegic and the correlating details therein.

Mother and father chatted back and forth with Mr. Kuno for almost forty-five minutes. I mostly stayed quiet during that time, nodding every once in a while when something was asked of me, but that's pretty much it. They initially started talking about me, then the conversation slowly transitioned to our family's medical history, then ultimately about golf. It seems Mr. Kuno is an avid player and has even played at the golf course we live on.

Ugh! Golf. Why golf? Anything but golf! If I wasn't bored before, I certainly am now.

About ten minutes later, Kuno stands from his chair and shakes mother and father's hand once again. A nurse then opens the double doors of the office and leads us back to the circular room. My arms are starting to ache from pushing these wheels forward; I'm still not accustomed to it yet. This newfangled wheelchair had better be easier to maneuver than this one. Mother must have noticed me struggling to keep up because she moves in behind me and pushes me down the hallway.

The nurse leads us over to one of the windows overlooking the courtyard, then informs us that she will return momentarily. I let my gaze drift towards the foggy window. No one is down there in the courtyard at the moment. It actually looks quite lovely, which is pretty much the only perk about this place that I've yet to see. There's a hedge maze about ten feet in height, which, providing you follow the correct pathway inside the maze, leads to a flower garden area with a fountain in the very center.

Mother crouches beside me. "Isn't this exciting? A wheelchair specifically designed to fit your needs."

I simply shrug, not letting my gaze drift away from the window.

The nurse returns ten minutes later pushing a wheelchair in front of her. It looks slightly different from the one I'm sitting in. The only reason I've kept this one for this long is because it's the same wheelchair the hospital sent me home in. Father loops his arms around my waist; the nurse and mother each grab one of my legs. Together, they lift my frail, crippled body from the old wheelchair and over to the new one.

The nurse grins widely, displaying a row of off-white teeth. "How do you like it?"

I look up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Like it? You must be joking? You do realize this is a wheelchair, not a Ferrari, right?"

"McKenzie!" Mother's scolding tone takes me by surprise. "That's not polite."

The nurse laughs dismissively. "It's quite all right. But you never know; there are plenty of other residents here who have a sharp set of wheels of their own. You may find yours is more of a Ferrari than you originally thought."

I look at her sideways. "Are you implying I should have races with the other residents or something?"

"I would never imply that you should do such a thing." She says those words with a blue-eyed wink before leaving to tend to another resident—a boy with a set of crutches beneath his arms and an aquacast wrapped around his right leg.

Mother bends over, eye level with me, resting her palms on her knees. "Well, how about it? You think you're ready to take some of those classes?" Her chipper tone is really starting to get old. I know she's just trying to be encouraging, but it's not helping.