Such a Pretty Face by Annabelle Costa

Chapter 30

A week later, we arrange an evening with Mike for him to teach me how to transfer Brody in and out of his wheelchair. When I show up, Brody is wearing comfy-looking sweatpants and a T-shirt, which I guess is to make things easier. He looks incredibly nervous, to be honest. About as nervous as I feel.

“Relax, Brody,” Mike says to him. “Emily will do great. She’s a smart girl.”

We go into the bedroom together and it’s almost like we’re about to have an odd ménage à trois rather than learn how to transfer my boyfriend. Brody lines himself up behind the lift like last time. Mike waits for him to undo the Velcro across his chest, which he again seems to struggle with.

Mike gives me instructions on the best way to get the sling under Brody. Brody mostly doesn’t say much through this—honestly, I think he’s a little embarrassed. I am too. But we both know it’ll be worth it to learn how to do this.

Once we hook the sling up to the cradle, Mike shows me the button to press on the sling. It elevates, suspending Brody’s body in the air. “She did a good job, right?” Mike says to Brody. “You feel secure?”

“Yep,” Brody says.

He shows me how to push the lift over to the bed, and then lower it so that Brody’s body comes to rest on the bed. Then he has me unhook the sling and pull it out from under him. And then we’re done—Brody’s in the bed.

We do it in the opposite direction, then he has me do it all on my own with no instructions from him. It isn’t all that hard, but it’s a little weird. If we’re together long enough, it will probably feel more normal to me.

Once he’s back in his wheelchair the third time, Mike says to him, “So I guess I can take off for now?”

“Sure,” Brody says. “Come back around ten?”

“Maybe I could take care of the bedtime stuff so you don’t have to come back?” I suggest.

Brody and Mike exchange looks. “No,” Brody says finally. “It’s a little more… involved. Anyway, it’s not appropriate for you to be my caregiver, Emily.”

I don’t know what he means. Maybe he’s talking about showering and stuff. Also, Mike mentioned he has a catheter. He’s right—I don’t want to have to deal with that. Or whatever else that I can’t think of.

After Mike takes off, Brody is still in his wheelchair. We’re both quiet for a minute and I’m having trouble reading his expression. “Do you still like me?” he finally asks. He says it jokingly, but his voice wavers.

“Of course,” I say. “You’re really sexy.”

He rolls his eyes, but still smiles crookedly. “Do you want to get into bed together?”

“Sure,” I say. “It’ll give me a chance to practice.”

I go slowly, making sure I do all the steps because I don’t want him to fall. When he’s suspended in the air, he looks at me for a second and then looks away. I successfully lower him into the bed, then remove the sling out from under him.

“Great job,” he says. “Now come here.”

I cuddle up beside him. We kiss and I run my hand up and down his chest and neck, getting under his shirt. He watches me do this for a minute, and I raise my eyebrows at him. “Do you like this?”

Brody nods. “I can’t feel my chest. But I love watching you.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. “Is there something that you’d like me to do?”

“Well…” He sounds shy all of a sudden. “You know what really turns me on?”

“What?” I ask eagerly.

His cheeks color. “When you touch my hands. That’s really hot.”

I frown at him. “But you said you can’t feel them?”

“Right,” he confirms. “But… I don’t know. It’s just sexy to watch you touching my hands. I’m not sure why.”

With Brody’s blessing, I lift his left hand in the air between us. I wouldn’t say he has the most manly-looking hands in the world. His hand is thin, nearly devoid of any muscle, and his fingers curl gently. As I massage his palm and fingers, I can’t help but notice how soft they are—there are none of the calluses that most adults have on their palms.

I glance up at Brody’s face, and his eyebrows are scrunched together. “Is this okay?” he asks me.

“Of course,” I say. “Is it okay for you?”

“Yeah, of course. But… you’re okay with doing this? It’s not too weird?”

“It’s not weird. As long as you like it.”

“I like it,” he assures me.

So I keep massaging Brody’s hand and I can tell by the look on his face that he likes what I’m doing. It occurs to me we’ve been dating for several months and I haven’t even attempted to touch him below the belt. If he were any other guy, we would have been having sex months ago. The truth is, that area scares me a bit. Not just because he’s a quadriplegic, but at least partially. I have no idea what tubes or whatever are down there.

“You are so hot, Emily,” he whispers in my ear. And I can’t help but wonder if he means it or if it’s like when I tell him he’s sexy when he’s hanging in the air in his Hoyer lift.