Someone You Love by Kristen Granata

Charly

“Where’s your phone? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning.”

I close the door behind Jenny. “I turned it off.”

“Is he still calling?”

I nod, and slump down onto the couch. “I haven’t listened to any of the voicemails.”

She bounces onto the cushion beside me, and kicks off her sneakers. “You look like shit. I can take your shift tonight if you want.”

I shake my head. “No. I need to stay busy. I asked Santiago to put me down for a double, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Probably because you’re starting to scare away the customers.”

I cut her a glare. “Thanks.”

She holds up her palms. “I’m just telling you the truth. People are coming to the diner asking if there’s really a grumpy little troll serving food.”

A small laugh bubbles out of me. “Screw you. I do not look like a troll.”

“Aha. Got you to laugh.” She nudges me with her elbow. “It’s been two weeks. How long are you going to avoid him for before you listen to what he has to say?”

“As long as it takes to get him out of my head.”

Bryce has called me every night this week, but I refuse to answer and listen to what he has to say. He didn’t even have the nerve to look me in the eyes and say goodbye when I left. I have nothing to say to him.

I’m back home, and the summer is over. I need to move forward, and put everything behind me.

“What are the boxes for?” Jenny gestures to the stack of flattened cardboard leaning against the wall.

“I’m going to get rid of Mom’s things.”

“Char, are you sure? Maybe it’s too soon.”

I glance around the apartment, and shake my head. “I’m ready. I’ve decided what I want to keep, and what I can donate. I can’t keep living in a state of grief, surrounded by loss. I need to clean up, and get my life in order.”

“So, then let’s purge, baby.” Jenny springs up and claps. “I’ll set up the tunes.”

“You don’t have to help me. I’m sure you have better things to do with your day off.”

“You’re not doing this alone.” She yanks me off the couch. “Plus, I want to raid your mom’s closet before you donate it. That baddie had style.”

I laugh, and it feels good. I miss it.

I miss smiling the way I did this summer.

I miss swimming in the pool.

I miss Edward’s sweet face.

I miss Beatrice’s hugs.

I miss him.

But I can feel that happy again. I just need to try. I have my new bucket list, and I’m not going to lie down because a boy broke my heart. I promised Mom I’d live my life to the fullest, and that’s what I’m going to do.

Jenny blasts the music, and we spend the afternoon belting out our favorite cheesy boyband songs.

And for a little while, I forget about my troubles.

Bryce

“Hey, football star.”

I smirk as I make my way to the circle of familiar faces. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

Steve grins, rocking back in his wheelchair. “Which is exactly why I call you that.”

“Still popping wheelies, I see.” I clasp his outstretched hand, and give it a firm shake. “How’ve you been?”

“You know me.” He spreads his arms out wide. “Living the dream.”

I met Steve when I first moved into the inn with Nana. After leaving the spinal unit back in Boston, my therapist suggested I look for a spinal injury support group so I could further my progress. One-on-one therapy was helpful, but it was even more helpful to talk with people who have actually been in my shoes. Nana’s reminder that people are doing more with less than what I’ve been given is what led me to the group today. I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to come back.

“It’s good to see you again, Bryce.” Harold lifts his curled fingers from his armrest, and I bump my knuckles against his.

“It’s good to be back. I’ve missed you all.”

“Oh, no.” Pete takes a few wobbly steps toward me, rolling his walker across the rubber mat covering the sand. “It must be bad if you’re missing this motley crew.”

I chuckle. “What, I can’t come back just to say hi?”

Steve arches a brow. “Have you ever come back to say hi?”

I lower my chin, and cast my gaze at ocean. “No, I haven’t.”

“Hey, man. No hard feelings.” Steve nudges my forearm. “You know I’m just busting balls.”

“No, you’re right. I stopped coming to group, and I never kept in touch with you.” I shake my head. “And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I do a lot of things lately.”

“We can help you sort it all out,” says Harold.

I survey the equipment sprawled out on the sand. “What is all this?”

“This is Adaptive Adventures.” A brunette-haired woman in a wheelchair wearing a life vest smiles up at me. “The organization provides physically disabled people with opportunities for outdoor sports.”

My eyebrows jump. “Wow. What are you guys doing today?”

“We’re paddle boarding. Want to try?”

I watch as several people secure someone’s wheelchair onto a long metal board attached to two wide flotation devices on either side. “That will hold up a wheelchair?”

“Yup.”

Harold grins. “I never did half of these things before my injury. Now, I’m living life to the fullest in my wheelchair.”

Live life to the fullest.

A sharp pang shoots through my heart.

“I’m Greta,” says the woman. “Will you be joining us today?”

“Uh, I think I’ll watch first.” I give her a small wave. “I’m Bryce.”

Steve glances at the newcomers I haven’t met yet. “This is Bryce Holden. He used to play for the New England Patriots, but he doesn’t ever tell anyone that, which is beyond me. I’d roll up and down the streets of this town shouting it to anyone and everyone who’d listen.”

Greta rolls her eyes. “You already roll up and down the streets shouting to anyone and everyone who’ll listen.”

Another man in a wheelchair looks at me, and tips his chin. “Good to meet you, Bryce. I’m Chris.”

I don’t move to shake his hand. I’ve learned that if someone in a wheelchair doesn’t extend their arm for a shake, it probably means they can’t. I nod. “Hi, Chris.”

Harold parks his chair between me and Steve. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on while the group gets situated?”

I shift my weight onto my other leg. “I thought I was doing fine, you know? I accepted what happened to me. I accepted life with a spinal cord injury. I’m not ashamed to use my cane, or my wheelchair when I need it. I worked through a lot of tough shit. But it turns out, I wasn’t done.”

Harold nods. “I don’t know if we’re ever done. Life ebbs and flows, and changes. We need to make adjustments to learn how to go with it.”

“I’ve been struggling with forgiving myself for what I did.” I gesture to Harold. “I didn’t serve my country.” I point to Pete. “I didn’t fall off a ladder at work.” I place my hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t get into an accident. I got into a fight with a guy for mouthing off to me at a bar. There’s no dignity in that. I didn’t get labeled a hero. I’m the dumbass who lost his temper, and cost himself his career.”

Harold’s eyes narrow. “You think you deserve the shit you’ve been through because you made a bad call one time in your life?”

I shrug. “Maybe I do.”

Pete shakes his head. “No one deserves anything. There’s no black and white, no good and evil. Even the worst of the worst sitting in a jail cell right now doesn’t deserve the life he has. We’re all human, and we all have issues. But the thing that sets you apart is what you learn from it. How you rise from it.”

“The world patted me on the back, and gave me a purple heart,” says Harold. “Then they forgot about me, and wouldn’t give me a job. They treated me no different than the homeless man they pass on the street. So, I can tell you firsthand: It doesn’t matter whether you got injured doing something honorable. Society doesn’t know how to handle people with disabilities either way.”

“What if they’re right though?” I spin my cane in my fingers as I stare down at it. “What if I’m everything they said I was in those articles? What if I’m not good enough for ... for anyone?”

“You’re here because of a girl, aren’t you?” Greta asks.

Everyone turns to look at her, and I nod. “I guess I am.”

“Oh, shit. Good call, Greta.” Steve tips back his chair again. “Football star has a girlfriend?”

I scrub my hand over my jaw. “Had.”

Pete smirks. “What did you do, Holden?”

“I met a beautiful woman at the inn this summer. She had this bucket list, and I helped her complete it. We had a lot of fun together.” A faint smile tips my lips before it fades. “But when things started to get more serious, I panicked. I told myself I couldn’t be who she needed me to be, and I pushed her away. I convinced myself that I couldn’t see myself being a part of her life.”

“Why not?” Greta asks. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but it’s too late because I’m invested in this story now.”

“She wants to do things, like go sky diving, and take a trip to Hawaii. Maybe she’ll want a family one day.”

She arches an eyebrow. “And why can’t she do all of those things while being with you?”

“She deserves to be happy. She deserves—”

“Did you make her happy this summer?”

“I did, but—”

“But nothing.” Greta shakes her head. “You found someone who makes you happy, and you make her happy in return. That’s the golden ticket.”

“Making her happy for a summer, and keeping her happy for a lifetime is a big difference.”

Steve laughs. “Dude, that’s the challenge for everyone, not just disabled people. My parents got divorced, and they were both able-bodied. Shit happens.”

Harold presses a button on his armrest, and rolls his chair closer until he’s facing me. “Do you want a family?”

“I ... I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do know. Close your eyes, and forget about your injury. Forget about the cane, forget about the wheelchair. Forget about the what-ifs, and the fear. And forget about the girl. Just focus on you. On your life, and what you want out of it.”

I let my lids close, and I try to do as Harold instructs me to.

“Now, can you see yourself raising children? Can you see yourself loving a child, and doing whatever it takes to give that child the best life you possibly can?”

Visions of my father flicker through my mind like an old-fashioned reel. And for once, they’re not the memories of the things we did—not the physical activities. I’m soothed by the feeling of his love. The way he’d smile at me when I came into the room. The warmth of his hand around mine when I’d reach out for it. The words of wisdom he’d share when I needed help in school. Not one of those memories required the use of his legs. None of those things would’ve been any different had he been in a wheelchair when I was growing up. All that mattered was that my father loved me, and that he was there when I needed him.

Immediately, my mind drifts to Charly. Her father stood up on two capable legs, and walked out of her life. She never knew the kind of love my father gave to me, and it wasn’t because he had a disability.

“Yes.” My throat tightens as I open my eyes. “I can see myself as a father.”

“That’s the key. If you want it, and you can envision yourself doing it, then nothing can stop you.” Harold’s lips wobble as his eyes skate around the group. “Beth is pregnant.”

We erupt in cheers.

I lean down and wrap my arms around Harold’s shoulders. “I’m so happy for you.”

A muffled sob escapes him. “Thank you. We’ve been trying for so long.”

“I know you have.”

Steve claps him on the back next, and I catch him wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “Congrats, man. That’s fantastic news.”

“Do you look at me in this chair,” Harold dips his head, gesturing to his body, “and think I won’t make a good father? Do you think I won’t love my son or daughter with all I have because I can’t lift my right arm, or move my legs?”

I give my head a furious shake. “No. I don’t think that.”

“It’s about what’s in your heart, Bryce. Your physical abilities aren’t what make you worthy of love. If that girl loves you, then she already thinks you’re worthy of it. Now you just need to believe it yourself.”

Anthony came up with a plan to help me get Charly back, but there’s no point if I don’t work through my issues. If I want to be the man she deserves, then I have to believe I can be that man.

“You need to talk to her.” Pete locks his blue eyes on mine. “You need to tell her how you feel, the good and the bad. She might not understand the way we do, but if she’s willing to listen and work through this with you, then you’ve found the right one.”

Emotion surges in my chest.

She’s the one.

“Everyone’s a little broken.” Greta tilts her head. “We’re kind of like crayons. Broken crayons still color, right? We all have something to give, and we can all contribute to the creation of a beautiful picture.”

Steve jerks his thumb in her direction. “Clearly, she’s the insightful one.”

“Well, we know it isn’t you.” A smile stretches my lips. “All right, Greta. You’ve convinced me to learn how to paddle board today.”