When Jodie arrived to replace her, she called over her shoulder. “Bye Miss Lucille. See you tomorrow, and have a pleasant visit with your son.”
Jodie frowned. “Is that why you put her in that party dress?”
Robin shrugged. “Well she wanted to wear it when her son takes her out to lunch.”
“Her son doesn’t take her out. He’s a busy doctor.” Jodie’s voice wasn’t low and Robin looked over at Miss Lucille to see if she had heard. “He drops off her food, and pays whoever is on duty to do some cleaning and laundry. And then he leaves.”
Jodie moved to the kitchen but Robin stopped her. “Well…who is going to take her to the doctor?”
“Nobody. The doctor comes here, if ever. Look, these old people are delusional. They think all kinds of things because their reality sucks for them. Just play along, okay?” Robin nodded her head and left. She felt gullible and saddened.
***
“Robin, I want to know if you will take on a new client ASAP while Miss Babbs is in the hospital?” Robin was on her way to work her first job. She had been informed only a few hours before that Miss Lucille had been admitted to the hospital with a case of pneumonia and was still reeling from that news. She wanted to visit her but her need for sleep had prevailed; she intended to visit her first thing in the morning, though. And now Ben was calling, asking her make a decision on replacing her with someone else…
Over the course of two months, Robin had grown more than fond of the older woman. Initially she had looked at the job as a just a means to bring in more money, but seeing the other woman’s life as a series of caregivers and evangelist shows had caused Robin to put forth more effort. Though it wasn’t like her to reach out, she did with Miss Babbs.
At her morning breakfast she sometimes placed a fresh muffin that she’d picked up from a nearby bakery on her plate instead of the usual toast. Miss Lucille never said thank you but she ate every crumb of the treat. She’d taken to brushing the woman’s beautiful white hair while they talked about new things; like what it had been like for Miss Lucille as a young woman. These stories interested Robin the most and she listened intently as she brushed the woman’s hair before finally giving her the usual one braid that she pinned up into a bun.
Miss Lucille was a natural born story teller. Robin always thought about The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman when she sat there listening to tales that ran the gambit from ghost stories to revenge tales, and of course, stories of segregation.
“Ben, I want to go back to Miss Lucille-”
“It’s just temporary,” he assured her. “So, are you interested?”
She had clicked very well with Miss Lucille. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to do that with just anyone. “Who is the client?”
“A young man with cerebral palsy needs an aide. This job is a little different. You will need to transport him to and from school. You will need to do some light lifting, and other then that, he is very self sufficient and can do most everything else himself.”
“Transportation? You mean use my own car because-”
“We’ll reimburse you for your mileage.”
She had become smarter in her dealings with Pinnacle. “And wear and tear?”
Ben chuckled. “You are a savvy business woman. I’ll throw in an extra fifty per shift to cover both wear and tear and mileage. Do we have a deal?” God, she just knew there was something he wasn’t telling her…
“Deal.” She said reluctantly.
“Okay. Got something to write with and I’ll give you his address. “Be there at seven a.m in order to get him to class by eight am. Got it?”
“Got it. And when does the shift end?”
“As soon as you get him home from school.”
“Okay…” Sounded a bit vague but, ok.
“Ok, Miss Mathena, I think we have a deal. Please start in the morning.”
The additional fifty dollars would be good and she’d be able to sleep at night like normal people. It had not been easy to make sure she left the restaurant by 11:30 in order to get to Miss Lucille’s by midnight. Fourteen hour days took their toll. Even after months of it, she still found it hard to sleep through the day. She had to keep her music going in order to counteract the noise of her neighbors. And even though she really had no life to speak of, she felt less so when she wanted to sleep until four o’clock only to be back at her first job by six. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that it would be nice to sleep through the night again.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Robin stretched in her bed, reveling at the feel of luxuriating there. She showered, and keeping in mind that she would have to do some lifting, put on jeans, a sweat shirt, and tennis shoes. She then brushed back her wild hair, pulling it tight into a ponytail at the top of her head; the ends springing out wildly.
She hurried to her car, a cup of coffee in her hands. It would be nice taking some kid to school, then she could get caught up on her grocery shopping. She wondered if he had a pager or something. She checked the address as she pulled up into a parking lot of a nice condo.
It was just a little before eight as she hurried up the walkway and rang the doorbell. A man in a wheelchair opened the door and the smile she had plastered on her face drooped. Man--not kid. He stared at her, his head bobbed a bit on his neck. Unruly red hair flopped into his eyes; eyes that were cold and unfriendly as they appraised her.
“Thanks for fitting me into your busy schedule.” His voice was as cold as his eyes, slurring enough that she had to strain to understand him. His mouth twisted and he gulped in a breath. “So happy that you could make it, even if you’re twenty-four hours late and I had to miss a day of classes.”
“Um…”
He rolled his chair back into the apartment in stiff, angry movements and Robin stepped inside uncertainly. “I’m not...not sure if I understand you. I just got called on this job last night-”
“Well Pinnacle is so fucked up!” He wheeled around, coming toward her. She almost took a step back. His pale skin was mottled red from anger and was covered in millions of freckles. Although he obviously had some muscle control issues, he had no problem pointing his finger at her accusingly. “They got paid a week ago, promising that it would be no problem getting me an aide. Then you cancel at the last minute leaving me in a lurch!” The last slurred words were shouted in a spray of spit.
Robin was not one to easily anger, but his rudeness pushed her into that direction. How dare this asshole shout and spit all over her! Angrily, she wiped his spit spray from the back of her hand.
“Well first of all, I had nothing to do with the deal you had with Pinnacle. Like I told you, I accepted a job just last night!” She began to shake with anger, but her voice stayed steady. “It couldn’t have been me to cancel out because before that I was watching a little old lady that just went into the hospital with pneumonia. So--don’t you yell at me!” She put her fists on her hips as the man in the wheelchair quieted.
He watched her silently. “I’m sorry, then. I thought it was you.” Now that his anger was no longer directed at her, his head didn’t flop and lurch around as much, and his voice became clear and quite easy to understand. His breathing slowed as he continued watching her. “What’s your name?
He’d switched gears so fast that she didn’t know how to respond. She was still ready to chew his ass, and now he was speaking calmly. “I’m Robin. Robin Mathena.”
“I’m Jason, but I guess you know that.” Actually she hadn’t. All she had was his sex and address. She didn’t admit that, though. He was her age, so if he was going to school then it meant college. Shit.
“What can I do to help you, Jason?”
“I can use help getting breakfast. Follow me into the kitchen.” He demanded. He didn’t seem mad at her any longer, but that didn’t mean that he was being nice. She followed him from a large living room that contained one couch an armchair next to a side table and lamp and all kinds of electronic equipment. She co
uld tell that it was a nice apartment containing expensive things, but it wasn’t set up like a person’s home. It seemed more like a studio.
The kitchen had a big butcher’s block table; very nice. But it too wasn’t what one would consider homey. There was a commercial feel to it, as if this room should be in an exclusive restaurant. He opened a lower cabinet and retrieved a bowl and spoon.
“I need you to make coffee, please.” He moved to the fridge next and retrieved milk which he placed in his lap. He had the type of wheelchair that required him to actually wheel himself. He then went to a pantry where he retrieved a box of Cheerios.
Instead of a coffee pot he had a coffee press. She studied it while chewing her lip. She had no idea how to use it!
“Forget about the coffee,” he said noticing her confusion. “We don’t have time to fool with it, anyways.” She put the contraption down and moved to the table, reaching for the cereal. He snatched it and glared at her. “I can do it.”
Okay. What was he; four? She stood back and waited for him to tell her what he needed. He spilled cheerios on the table as he poured them into the bowl, but she was not going to offer to clean it up and risk getting yelled at again. He carefully poured the milk, not spilling any. It obviously took a lot of work because his tongue peeked through as he concentrated on his task. She smiled. He looked like a kid that was working out a puzzle; a cute little ginger kid with wild crazy red hair. He glanced up at her and caught the smile. He scowled.
“Please put this away for me, Robin.” He said in a neutral voice. His words were slightly slurred but she could still hear the dislike in it. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she wasn’t his maid. He had gotten it out of the fridge with no problem, so she was sure that he could return it. But, it was also eighteen fifty and hour and well…for now he was the boss. She returned the milk, and then put away the cereal.
A newspaper was on the table and for a moment he ignored her as he read and ate; scooping cereal into the gaping hole that was his mouth and not doing a good job of keeping it all inside...She looked at anything other than him eating.
“Have you ever worked with anyone with Cerebral Palsy?” She looked at him quickly. He was still holding the paper but now watching her.
“No.”
“Have you ever known anyone with CP?”
“No.”
“Figures,” he muttered. “First, let me explain that there is not just one symptom associated with my disorder. Even though I slur my words and have less muscle control doesn’t mean that I’m mentally disabled. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking that I am. I’m probably more intelligent than you.”
“You are certainly more rude.” She glared at him.
“It’s not my intent,” he said calmly. “Just making sure that you understand. Food falls out of my mouth not because I have no table manners but because I have little muscle control.” She guiltily bit back the sarcastic response that she had prepared. “When I eat I sometimes choke. You do know how to give the Heimlich maneuver, right?”
She nodded.
“Okay.” He sighed. “So I need you to watch me eat.” He gave her an icy look. “Hope it doesn’t disgust you much.” Her face warmed.
They had started out on a bad note. She decided to be the bigger man and set things right. “Jason, I apologize for calling you rude.” She blew out a tense breath. “I won’t judge you if you stop judging me.” His eyes flinched. He turned back to this cereal.
“Fine,” he said between bites of food.
When he was done eating, he placed his dishes into the sink then wheeled out of the room. “I need a shave but there’s no time for that. I need you to pee me.” Her heart jumped in her chest. Pee him? What in the hell did that mean?
“Um, how do I do that?” She followed him to a large bathroom.
“You need to hold my penis while I piss.”
Oh my god, this was a nightmare. She’d never been around a penis before! Her face was hot and sweat sprouted from her arm pits and dotted her forehead.
“I-uh, you were holding that spoon just fine, Jason.”
“I’m just messing with you Robin. I can hold my own penis just fine.” He gave her a long look and she almost fainted from relief. He smirked. “Have you ever been an aide for a male before?”
She wanted to kick him in his smirking face. “Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. “I’m a fast learner.” She tried to hide her displeasure that he had known just what to say to cause her to shake in her shoes.
He stopped the chair as close to the toilet as he could get. “I only need to use the bathroom three times a day. My body has been…I guess you would say, ‘trained’ to go once in the morning, once in the afternoon and then before bed. But I can’t use my legs much. If you can help me to stand, then I can take care of the rest myself.”
Robin squeezed past the wheelchair and got in front of him. “How do we do this?”
“Lean forward, bending at the knees. Use your legs not your back. I’m going to put my arms around your shoulders, your arms go around my body under my arms. Pull until my legs are locked beneath me. I’m wearing braces, so once I’m standing I’m ok.”
She leaned forward and Jason’s eyes stayed glued to her lighter ones before his arms went around her. His long, red hair was in her face. It ran down in unruly curls over his shoulders. It was beautiful hair. He was a ginger; red hair, green eyes, freckles dotting pale skin. Too bad he was such an asshole. She might have thought he was cute.
She began to lift. “Don’t use your back,” he said, lips very close to her ear. She paused and then used her legs to lift. “There you go.” She was hugging him, he was hugging her and the timber of his words vibrated through her body creating goose bumps that ran down her spine. She had never been so close to a man that was not directly a part of her bloodline. Beneath his loose fitting shirt, his muscles were tight and tone. Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she nervously took a step away from him. Standing, he towered over her. She had to look up at him. He was looking down, but not at her, at his legs.
She looked down, as well. They seemed to be supporting him ok. She backed up again, bumping the toilet and he placed one hand on the sink counter while the other remained on her shoulder for balance.
She gave him a surprised look. “Can you walk?” And then she blushed that she’d asked such a thing to a man in a wheelchair.
“A little.” He swung his left leg out and she stepped out of his way, still remaining close enough so that he could continue to hold onto her for support. He leaned his body to the left and then swung his right leg out.
“You’re walking.” He wobbled a little but righted himself. “Jason, if you can do this then why don’t you get a walker or crutches?” His expression grew dark and he didn’t answer. Shit, she’d put her foot in her mouth. He had reached the toilet. Now what was she supposed to do?
“Lift the toilet seat.” He said while he moved to undo his pants. She did it quickly. He wasn’t holding on to her for balance but he wasn’t wobbling either. “Bring my chair behind me so that I can sit when I’m done.”
She did as he demanded, wishing that he could be a little nicer. As she moved to get the chair, she heard the loud patter of his urine stream hitting the water within the toilet. She blushed. Well there was no shame in his game.
After urinating for an ungodly long time, he checked behind him for his chair and then using the cabinet he lowered himself into the chair, flopping down in it. He picked up his left leg and then his right, setting his feet into position. She watched as he reached forward and flushed the toilet then wheeled himself to a pedestal sink, where he washed his hands.