I chuckle. “So, don’t. It’ll work out how it’s supposed to.”
“From your lips to the universe,” she says.
“How’s everything in town?”
“Good. The shop’s doing well. I’ve added clothing to the California line. They’re eating it up.”
“I knew they would,” I say.
“Truth be told, I’ve toyed with the thought of opening a second shop.”
“Really? That’s exciting. Where?”
“Oh, California.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask.
“No, I miss you, and it’s time for expansion. I think a little Southern flare would fit well out there if I could find the right location.”
“Whatever you need me to do to help you, I’m there. Oh, my God. I want you here in the worst way.”
“It’s a thought now, but I’ve been looking into it.”
“You’ll keep me posted?”
“Of course, darling,” she says rolling her r.
The thought of having my best friend a short drive away chases away my anxiety about Jagger’s return. We sink into our easy banter as we continue to play catch up and time slips away.
***
Everyone is waiting in the backyard as we pull up to the driveway.
“Why are all the bikes here?” Jagger asks.
“Well, they wanted to welcome you home.”
The temperature in the car drops.
“You didn’t want them to? I’ve kept them away from the hospital, J, but I couldn’t come up with a reason for them not to be here now. You can’t hide away from them forever.”
“You have no clue what this feels like.”
“So tell me,” I say quietly.
He growls. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Okay.” I park the car and move to the back to get his wheelchair out of the trunk as I count to ten. The anger is normal, but trying. I’m excited to have him home, and he’s hung up on the brothers who came to show him their support. I set the lightweight, portable sports wheelchair up beside him. I went with a model that would go over all terrain. I wanted to get him out of the house and sun eventually. I angle the chair, place the cushion on the seat, set the breaks and hang back, waiting to allow him the opportunity to transfer himself.
“B. I don’t want to
do this when they might be watching me from the window.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Blanche,” he snaps.
“You have to learn to do this on your own.” I lower my voice. “I promise you, if I didn’t think you were ready, I wouldn’t push. It’s just like you practiced in therapy. Get your gloves on.” I wait patiently until he complies. “Now put your transfer cloth down over the floor and frame, place your legs on the ground, move your body to the edge of the seat, find your leverage, and move your body.”