Page 14 of Not You Again
She sensed his discomfort and launched in again, “We’ll see how the day goes, funeral boy.”
His jaw clenched and she noticed the hint of auburn stubble around his face. “I’m going to gently put you in this chair now,” he said. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
He started to lower her, so she said, “It hurts!”
“Where?” Adam stopped while holding her midair.
“My boob,” she said with great relish. “She’s in pain! A ginger grabbed her!”
He pinched his lips together and then, not as gently, put Carly in the chair. Admittedly, being able to sit on something cushioned rather than on pointy rocks was much better, in general.
Carly waited for pain, but didn’t feel the stinging surges she’d been having. Sure, her back was stiff and her neck ached. If she tried to twist in any way her body screamed that it was a bad idea... but this sure beat the ground.
“This is great,” she lied. “I can wheel myself around.” Carly tried to move the wheelchair, but the wheels sputtered through the gravel and refused to budge.
She could almost feel the smugness in his voice as he said, “I could, ya know, get you into the funeral home—”
“No.” She wasn’t going to spend the day in there.
“Okay,” he tried again. “We could get you to my car and I’ll drive you somewhere?”
“I can’t handle two boob grabs in one day.” She hadn’t meant that joke to be as biting, but his cheeks flushed all the same.
“What if I walked you to the main road where the surface is flat? Easier to maneuver.” Adam finally looked at her.
“Okay,” Carly acquiesced. What other choice did she have?
He pushed her over the gravel and each jostle and bumpcaused her to tighten with pain. Eventually, they landed on the dirt road that led to town.
“I’m all set.” She gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. Then placed her hands on the wheels, pushed them forward, and— “Fuck.”
Her back seized up all over again, and even the Vicodin haze couldn’t stop the way it tore across her muscles like a hot poker.
“Woah.” Adam was next to her, one firm hand on her shoulder.
She gritted her teeth. “Just leave me alone.”
“It’s at least a mile into town. If you try to push yourself there, you’ll mess up your back even more.”
Carly had agreed to let him get the chair onto the road, but Adam taking her the whole way wasn’t going to happen. Still, he began to push.
“But...” She tried to come up with some perfect excuse to get out of this, though none came.
“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Just let me help you. We don’t have to talk,” he said.
“Good.” She exhaled and turned her focus to the wooden fences that ran parallel and sectioned off the farmland they walked past. Thick oak trees with overflowing fat branches of green leaves shaded a pasture. She was working out whether it was best to hurl herself out of the chair or stage a silent protest, when a tan cow sauntered toward the fence. Carly had never left the funeral home and seen a cow on her walk. The thing must have arrived because it was later in the day.
Had she known there would be cows—creepy giants with enormous eyes and gooey mouths—she would’ve vetoed the endeavor entirely.
“Are cows aggressive?” Carly gave the cow some serious side-eye.
“What?”
“They can’t jump the fence, though,” she told herself for reassurance. “Right?”
“No, they can’t jump the fence. And no, they aren’t aggressive,” Adam said.
The cow mooed at no one in particular.
