Page 109 of Maybe in Another Life

“Is it me?” Gabby says suspiciously. “Because if it’s not, this is a weird story.”

“Yeah dude,” I say to her. “It’s you.”

“Awww, thanks, bro!”

I’m sitting in the backseat of the car, looking out the open window. I’m inhaling the fresh air as we drive through the city. It’s possible that from an outside perspective, I look like a dog. But I don’t care. I’m so happy to be out of the hospital. To be living out in the real world. To see sunshine without the filter of a windowpane. Everything in the world has a smell to it. Outside isn’t just the smell of fresh-cut grass and flowers. It’s also smoke from diners and garlic from Italian restaurants. And I love all of it. It’s probably just because I’ve spent so much time inhaling inorganic scents in a sterile hospital. And maybe a month from now I won’t appreciate it the way I do right now. But that’s OK. I appreciate it now.

I turn my head away from the window for a moment when I hear Mark sigh at a red light. I notice now that it is eerily quiet in the car. Mark seems to be getting more and more nervous the closer we get to their house. As I pay more attention, I can tell that he’s out of sorts.

“Are you OK?” Gabby asks him.

“Hm? What? No, yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Just focusing on the road.”

I can see his hands twitching. I can hear the shortness of his breath. And I’m starting to wonder if I’m missing something, if maybe he really doesn’t want me living with them, if he sees it as a burden.

If he did, if he told Gabby that he didn’t want to take on the responsibility, she’d fight him on it. I know that. And she’d never let on to me. I know that, too. So it’s entirely possible that I’m imposing and I don’t even know it.

We pull up to the side of the road in front of their place, and I can see that Mark installed a ramp for me to get up the three small steps to their door. He gets out of the car and immediately comes around to my side to help me out. He opens my door before Gabby can even get to me.

“Oh,” he says. “You need the chair.” Before I can answer, he’s opened the trunk and is pulling it out. It drops to the ground with a thud. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s heavier than I thought.”

Gabby moves toward him to help him open it up, and I see him flinch at her touch.

It’s not me he’s uncomfortable around. It’s her.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” she asks.

“Let’s just get inside, OK?” he says.

“Um, OK...”

The two of them help me into the chair, and Mark grabs my bags. I wheel myself behind Gabby as she makes her way to the front door.

When she opens it and the three of us walk through the door, the tension is palpable. There is something wrong, and all three of us know it.

“I installed a seat in the shower and took the door off. It’s just a curtain now. That should make it easy for you to get in and out on your own,” Mark says.

He’s talking to me, but he’s looking at Gabby. He wants her to know all the work he did.

“I also moved all of your things into the first-floor office. And put the guest bed in there so you don’t have to go up and down the stairs. And I lowered the bed. You can try it.”

I don’t move.

“Or later, I guess.”

Gabby looks at him sideways.

“You should be able to rest down on it to sit and then swing your legs over, as opposed to having to use your pelvis to sit or stand.”

“Mark, what is going on?” Gabby asks.

“I bought a two-way pager system, so if you’re in bed, you can just talk into it, and Gabby will know to come get you. And the dining-room table was too high, so this morning I had one delivered that is lower to the ground so your chair can reach.”

Gabby whips her head around the corner, surprised. “You did that this morning? Where did our table go?”

Mark breathes in. “Hannah, could you give us a minute? Maybe you could confirm that your bed is the right height?”

“Mark, what the hell is going on?” Gabby’s voice is tight and rigid. There is no bend in it, no patience.

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