“I tried… to go on like I never knew you,” I sang softly as I hammered out the chords to “Incomplete” on my piano. “I’m awake… but my world is half asleep. I pray… for this heart to be unbroken… but without you, all I’m going to be is… incomplete…”
After my accident, I didn’t think I would ever be able to play the piano again. I could no longer move my fingers across the keys or work the pedal with my foot. But Keith had helped me come up with a solution: a pair of modified styluses that could fit into the universal cuffs I wore around my wrists to hold writing utensils and other narrow objects that were hard for me to grip. They took the place of my index fingers, allowing me to pluck out two notes at a time, one with each hand. It felt more like playing a xylophone than a piano. I’d had to simplify the arrangements of the songs I knew to accommodate my new, two-finger method. Like the song I’d been singing, the chords were incomplete, lacking the richness and complexity I was used to. Still, I enjoyed playing and, with practice, was getting better and faster every day.
Practicing the piano was one of the ways I passed the time during the dark and dreary winter months, when it was too cold to do much outside. January had dragged by. I’d talked to both AJ and Nick on their birthdays, but I hadn’t told either of them about my plan to rejoin the Backstreet Boys. I wanted to tell all four guys at the same time, ideally in person, but I hadn’t found a good excuse to get the whole group together again.
In the meantime, I had other things on my mind. In the month since she’d helped me set up my EHarmony profile – which was also incomplete – Dawn hadn’t mentioned dating again. But the day before, she had dropped a bomb on me.
“So, I forgot to tell you earlier, but I ran into an old friend of mine from high school, Lisa, at the store today,” she said conversationally as she helped me stretch before bed. “She played on my softball team. Great shortstop. Anyway, after we’d stood talking in the aisle for a while, we decided to go get coffee and catch up. I don’t think I’d seen her since our twentieth class reunion, and that was… well, longer ago than I’d like to admit.”
I laughed along with Dawn, secretly wondering where this story was going.
“Turns out, Lisa’s been through a lot since then. Her husband passed away from cancer a few years ago, and she just moved to Lexington for a fresh start. She doesn’t have many friends here yet and mentioned wanting to meet people and maybe even start dating again.”
At that point, I began to see where she was going with this. “Dawn… what did you do?”
Dawn flashed a mischievous smile as she manipulated my fingers, bending and stretching each of the joints. “Well… I may have told her about this great guy I know, who’s also widowed and thinking about getting back out into the dating world.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Did you tell her about the wheelchair?”
“Wheelchair?” Dawn frowned. “What wheelchair? Oh!” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, you didn’t think I was talking about you, did you?”
Before I could come up with a witty comeback, the corners of her mouth twitched. Dawn could never keep a straight face for long.
“Of course, I told her about the wheelchair,” she went on, laughing. “She didn’t seem turned off by it. I think you two would make a good match. Would you consider going out with her?”
“Like on a blind date?” I sighed. “I dunno, Dawn…”
“Oh, come on. Just one date,” Dawn begged. “If you don’t like her, you don’t have to go out with her again.”
“I’m more worried she won’t like me,” I admitted.
“Why? What’s not to like?”
I gave her a look. “Don’t play dumb. We both know I’m pretty high-maintenance these days. It’s a lot for a person to deal with.”
“Tell me about it,” Dawn said, smiling as she put my right hand down and picked up the left. “But I’ve stuck around.”
“That’s because I pay you well,” I reminded her.
“True. But if it was too much for me to deal with, no amount of money would make me stay,” she replied seriously. “And, Kevin, this woman watched her husband die of cancer. If that’s not a lot to deal with, I don’t know what is. So get over yourself; your disability is not that big of a deal to anyone but you. Lisa’s a strong person; she can more than handle your high-maintenance ass.”
I laughed, appreciating the tough love. “Well, can I at least see a picture of her first?”
Dawn arched an eyebrow. “Oh, now you’re gonna be picky? I didn’t show her a picture of you.”
“Did you tell her I was Kevin Richardson, the Backstreet Boy?”
“Nope. All I told her was your first name.”
“And you don’t think she figured it out? I mean, how many quadriplegic Kevins are there living in Lexington?”
Dawn laughed. “If she made the connection, it wasn’t ‘cause of me,” she said. “But if you insist, I’ll show you what she looks like.”
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly, feeling bad for seeming shallow. Dawn had a point: I, of all people, had no business judging anyone else by what they looked like. “It wouldn’t be a blind date if I saw her picture beforehand.”
Dawn’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll go out with her?”
I shrugged. “I guess. It worked out well for Nick, right?”
“Damn right!” she replied with a grin. “Do you wanna call her, or should I?”
“You can do it,” I said, defaulting to my natural shyness. “But keep it simple, okay? Dinner and a movie… nothing too fancy.”
“You mean you don’t wanna fly her off in your private plane for a romantic weekend at the ski resort?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Obviously. Lisa’s a down-to-Earth gal; she’ll be more than fine with dinner and a movie.”
“Okay, good.”
I let Dawn make all the arrangements, and within half an hour, I had a date set for Saturday evening. “Just think!” Dawn said cheerfully before she turned off the light. “If all goes well, you might even have a date for Valentine’s Day!”
I groaned, already regretting my decision to let her set me up on a blind date. What if it turned out to be a total disaster? But then, I remembered going down the Valentine’s Day aisle at Walmart the previous weekend, helping Mason pick out cards to pass out to his preschool classmates. Seeing all the hearts and flowers and candy Kisses just made me sad. Ever since Kristin died, Valentine’s Day had been downright depressing. Maybe this date was just what I needed to pull me out of my impending February funk.
I thought about that the next morning as I tinkered on the piano, picking out the melody of “As Long As You Love Me.”
My phone rang in the middle of the first verse. I fumbled with it for a few seconds, struggling to get a good grip with my styluses in the way. I finally managed to tear the cuff off my right wrist with my teeth and wedge my fingers through the handle on the back of my phone case, which helped me hold onto it. Flipping the phone over, I saw Brian’s name flashing on the screen before I swiped with the stylus in my left hand to answer the call.
“Hey, cuz. Sorry, I was in the middle of something.”
Brian didn’t waste any time on a greeting. All he said was, “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?” I asked, immediately worried. The tone of his voice told me that whatever news he was about to give me wasn’t good.
He took an audible breath before answering. “Nick’s sister died yesterday.”
“What??” I gasped, my jaw dropping as I went into a mental tailspin, trying to process what I’d heard. “Which one?”
“Leslie.”
“Oh my god…” My mind raced. Leslie was Nick’s middle sister. She was younger than him, still in her twenties – far too young for this to be true. “What happened??”
“I don’t know,” Brian said hoarsely. “Apparently, she went to take a nap and never woke up. When I talked to Nick, they were waiting on toxicology results.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding in a low sigh. “So you’ve talked to him? How’s he taking it?”
“Yeah… he sounded pretty upset, as you’d expect.”
I shook my head, my heart breaking for Nick. Life could be so cruel. Just when things seemed to be going so well for him, something like this happened. As far as I knew, he and Leslie hadn’t been close, but she was still his sister. He had to be hurting.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I told Brian. After hanging up with him, I immediately called Nick.
“Hey, Kevin,” he answered in a low voice on the third ring. “I guess you heard, huh?”
“Brian just called to tell me,” I said. “Oh, Nick… I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” he replied, his voice flat and emotionless.
“Where are you right now?” I asked him. “Are you with family?”
He let out a humorless little laugh. “No… I’m on my bus, somewhere in Virginia, I think.”
I remembered that he was on tour to support the solo album he’d released a year earlier. “Nick, you know the fans will understand if you need to cancel a few shows to grieve with your family.”
“Honestly, I’d rather grieve alone on the road,” he replied. “Do you know what my dad said to me when he called last night to tell me what happened? He said if I had been there for her, she would still be alive… as if it was all my fault.”
“What?” I gasped, horrified by what I was hearing. “Why would he say that?”
“They think Leslie died of an overdose,” Nick said, his voice dropping even lower. “Whether it was on purpose or an accident, I don’t know.”
“Damn…” I knew Leslie had a history of substance abuse and mental health issues, but the last I’d heard, she was doing better. She had just gotten married and had a baby the year before. I felt bad for her husband and the little daughter she had left behind.
“Yeah. And, I mean, there’s a part of me that thinks maybe my dad’s right. Maybe I could have done more to help her. I have money… I could have paid for a treatment program…”
“Nick, you know this is not your fault, right?” I interrupted. “No matter what anyone else says. It’s not fair for your family to put this on you, but grief can bring out the worst in people.”
He sighed. “I know… but I still feel bad. I’m her big brother; it was my job to look out for her. But I can’t even tell you the last time I talked to her.”
“Leslie was an adult,” I reminded him. “A married woman. She had a support system. If the people around her couldn’t help her, there’s nothing you could have done.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “She was staying with my dad when it happened.”
“See? If your dad couldn’t do anything to help her either, he has no business blaming you. It sounds like he’s projecting his own guilt onto you.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“So, are you going to Florida for the funeral?” I asked hesitantly, wondering if I should cancel my date that weekend and head down to the Sunshine State to support Nick, the same way I had flown there for Howie’s father’s funeral a few years earlier.
“No,” Nick replied flatly. “My dad’s living in upstate New York now, where his family’s from, so the funeral will be held there. I don’t think I’m gonna go, though. Is that terrible? I just don’t wanna be around all that toxicity.”
At first, I was surprised to hear him say he wasn’t going to his own sister’s funeral service, but then, I had to remind myself that Nick’s family dynamics were much different from mine. After what his dad had said to him, I didn’t blame him. “You do whatever you need to do, Nick,” I said. “I didn’t go to Kristin’s service either.”
Nick snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause you were in intensive care. I don’t have that kind of excuse.”
“Mental health is just as important as physical health,” I said firmly. “You need to take care of yourself, too. If avoiding all the family drama is the best way for you to do that, then that’s what you should do.”
“Thanks, Kev,” he muttered.
“Love you, little brother,” I said, wishing there was a way to hug him through the phone. “I’ll let you go now, but gimme a call back if you need anything or just wanna talk. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” he said again. “Love you, too, bro.”
After we hung up, I put the phone down and turned my chair back toward my piano, but I didn’t feel like playing anymore. Just knowing Nick was hurting made it hard to concentrate on anything else.
With a sigh, I pulled off my other wrist cuff and left it lying across the keys as I turned and rolled out of the music room.
***
Two days later, I sat in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, watching while Dawn knelt down in front of me to fasten my tie. “There,” she said finally, standing up and stepping out of the way. “What do you think?”
I studied my reflection. Dawn had helped pick out my outfit: a green button-down shirt that she said brought out the color of my eyes, a plaid tie, dark-wash jeans, and brown leather Oxford shoes. “I think the tie’s too much,” I decided. “I look like a leprechaun. Can you please take it off?”
Dawn laughed. “Sure. I told you, Lisa won’t care if you’re wearing a tie. You’re going to the movies, not the theater.” She said the last word in an exaggeratedly stuffy English accent: “thea-tah.”
“I know. I just wanted to make a good first impression.”
“Don’t worry. She’s a good ol’ country girl like me,” Dawn said, dropping the English accent and laying her Kentucky drawl on thick. “Not like the L.A. girls you’re used to. She isn’t high-maintenance at all; she’s super down-to-earth.”
Sounds like Kristin, I thought, flashing my reflection a sad smile as Dawn leaned down to loosen my tie. Kristin was no L.A. girl; she was born and raised in Kansas. Our Middle American upbringing was one of the things we’d bonded over when we first met in Florida. I had always been attracted to that down-home type of woman, but I worried about dating someone who was too similar to my late wife. I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to replace her.
“Good luck!” Dawn stood in the doorway, waving as I went down the ramp that led from the porch to the driveway. “I hope it goes well tonight.”
Fumbling with my keyfob, I pushed the button that opened the driver’s side door of my truck and automatically lowered the lift. “Thanks. Me too,” I replied, flashing her a nervous smile as I backed my chair onto the lift platform and locked it into place. I couldn’t feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but I was sure they were there. This was the first “first date” I had been on in twenty years, and I was doing it in a wheelchair.
As I drove to the restaurant where Dawn had arranged for me to meet her friend Lisa, I worried about what could go wrong, all the typical first date fears combined with the worst-case scenarios that went along with my disability. What if I dropped food down my front or spilled my drink in my lap? What if Lisa was completely disgusted by the way I ate? Worst of all, what if I had an accident? I always packed a pair of clean pants and underwear in the bag I carried on the back of my chair, just in case, but I couldn’t put them on by myself. Who would help me change clothes if I needed to? I imagined myself hiding in the handicapped stall inside the men’s room, making a frantic phone call to ask Dawn to come to my rescue – or, worse yet, asking a random person for help with cleaning myself up. The mere thought made my cheeks flush with embarrassment and my pulse pound against my eardrums. As I approached the turn into the parking lot, I considered just driving past it and ghosting the poor woman. But I knew I couldn’t do that.
Instead, I hung a left and pulled into one of the handicapped parking spots right in front of the restaurant. I waited in the truck for a minute or two, wondering if Lisa was already there. I didn’t know how I would find her, since I had no idea what she looked like. I would just have to go inside and wait for her to introduce herself. She was more likely to recognize me first because of the wheelchair.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down before I left the comfort of my truck. When I finally went inside, I looked around the lobby but didn’t see any women who appeared to be alone.
“Can I help you, sir?” the hostess asked.
Clearing my throat, I rolled closer to her stand. “Yes, I have a reservation for two.”
“Name?”
“Richardson.”
The hostess frowned as she looked at her computer. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not seeing it on our list. Could it be under a different name?”
My mind raced. Dawn had made the reservation, not me. I wondered if she’d put it under her own name instead. “Um, try Leeuwenhoek,” I said, spelling it out for the hostess – not an easy feat, especially considering how nervous I was.
“Kevin?” As the hostess was looking up Dawn’s last name, I turned my head to see a tall, thin woman with shoulder-length brown hair walking toward me. She gave me a lopsided smile and a little wave. “Hi! I saw you come in. I’m Lisa… Lisa Keller.” She extended her hand.
“Oh, hi!” I replied with relief, holding out my right hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Lisa. I’m Kevin.”
I caught the look of confusion that flickered across her face when she glanced down and saw my contorted hand, the fingers curled into a loose fist, but she recovered quickly and wrapped her hand around mine, wringing it briefly. “So nice to meet you, too!” she said. “Sorry for the mix-up. Dawn made the reservation under my name. She knew I would probably get here first – I’m always early. Our table’s right over this way.”
“Oh,” I said, frowning as I followed her to a table for two by the window. Lisa must have told the waiter I would be in a wheelchair because one of the chairs had already been removed, leaving an open space for me to sit across from her. I wondered how long she had been sitting there by herself, watching out the window as she waited for me. “I hope you haven’t been here long.”
“Oh, no, only a few minutes,” she said quickly, flashing me another smile. She had a plain yet pleasant face – not nearly as pretty as Kristin’s, but far from unappealing.
Stop it, I scolded myself as soon as that thought crossed my mind. I couldn’t keep comparing her to Kristin, and I shouldn’t be judging her appearance at all. “Oh, good,” I said, forcing myself to smile back. I leaned forward to shake off my jacket, which I draped over the back of my chair.
Our waiter came over to bring us menus and take our drink orders. Lisa ordered a glass of wine, and I got a beer, hoping it would help me relax a little. “Have you ever been here before?” I asked her as we both browsed the menu. The steakhouse was a Lexington staple, but I remembered Dawn saying that Lisa was new in town.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Everything sounds really good, though.”
I nodded. “I’ve never had a bad meal here.” I scanned the list of steaks and seafood options, weighing what I wanted with what looked easiest to eat. When the waiter came back to take our order, I went with the filet mignon, knowing I wouldn’t be able to finish one of the bigger steaks. “And could you please have the kitchen cut it for me?” I asked.
If the waiter was surprised by this request, he hid it well. “Of course, sir. That comes with our bottomless Lexingtonian salad, and what would you like for your other side?”
“The whipped potatoes, please.”
“All right, and for you, ma’am?” he asked, turning to Lisa.
“I’ll have the same, but with broccoli for my side,” she said, smiling across the table at me.
“Very good. I’ll put those in right now,” the waiter replied, taking our menus away.
I wrapped my hands around my beer glass, carefully raising it to my lips as Lisa took a sip of her wine. It seemed neither of us knew what to say next. I tried to come up with a conversation-starter. “So,” I said, setting my glass down, “what do you do for a living, Lisa?”
“I’m a mortgage loan officer,” she replied. “I help people apply for home loans.”
“Oh… That sounds interesting,” I lied. It actually sounded pretty boring, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Yes, I enjoy it,” she said, nodding. “How about you?”
I was surprised by the question. Maybe she really doesn’t know who I am, I realized. That was oddly refreshing. “I’m in the music business,” I responded truthfully. “I’m part owner of a music academy and studio in downtown Louisville.”
“Well, that sounds like a pretty cool job!” Lisa exclaimed. “Do you perform at all or just work behind the scenes?”
“I used to sing, but these days, I do more writing, producing, and teaching. I also play the piano, or, at least, I used to. I’m in the process of relearning how to do that with fingers that don’t work the way they used to,” I said, holding up my balled hands.
“Good for you! I admire your perseverance.” Her smile looked sincere, but her words sounded slightly patronizing.
I knew she probably didn’t mean it that way, but I didn’t need a pat on the back for doing my best to deal with the bad hand of cards I’d been dealt. I hated being treated like I was some kind of inspirational figure just for living my life.
Our waiter brought us a loaf of French bread on a wooden cutting board with a dish of whipped butter. Lisa picked up the bread knife and sliced half the loaf. She helped herself to a piece, adding a liberal amount of butter before taking a bite. “Mmm,” she said as she swallowed. “This bread is amazing.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed as I looked at the breadboard, wondering whether it was worth the risk to try to butter myself a piece. Past experience had taught me that my chances of accidentally flinging butter across the table with my knife or dropping the bread onto my lap – butter-side down, of course – were pretty high. Normally, I didn’t worry about that when I was out with friends or family, but I didn’t want to make a bad impression – or a mess – on a first date.
Lisa seemed to sense the struggle happening inside my head. “Can I butter you a slice?” she asked hesitantly.
“That would be great,” I said, smiling. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled back as she smeared butter onto a second piece and set it on my bread plate. I picked it up carefully between my two hands and bit into it. It was crusty on the outside, soft and warm on the inside – absolutely worth it.
Before the rest of our food arrived, I reached back to retrieve my bag from the back of my chair. “Do you need any help?” Lisa asked as I fumbled with the front pockets, which contained my plate guard and the pouch I used to carry my utensils.
“Nope… I’m fine, thanks,” I answered, wanting to seem as independent as possible. I finally managed to pull out the adaptive tools I needed and put them down on the table.
Next, the waiter brought our salad, which was served family-style in one big bowl. This time, Lisa didn’t bother to ask before dishing out salad into each of our smaller bowls. “Thanks,” I said again gratefully as she set mine down in front of me.
“Sure,” she replied, digging into her own salad. “God, this is really good, too! Don’t let me fill up on salad and bread.”
“It’s easy to do,” I said, chuckling as I threaded my thumb and forefingers through the metal rings on my fork. Thankfully, I ate so slowly that I hadn’t even finished half of my salad before the waiter came back, carrying our main courses on a tray.
“Watch out; these plates are hot,” he warned as he used a pot holder to set them down in front of us. The food looked wonderful, and I was relieved to see that the kitchen staff had remembered to cut my steak into bite-size cubes so I wouldn’t have to struggle with it myself. But once the waiter walked away, I frowned, wondering how I was going to get my plate guard on by myself without burning my hands. It was both a blessing and a curse not to feel pain below my level of injury, but one of the most frightening parts of being paralyzed was the fact that I could sustain a serious injury, like a burn or broken bone, without even realizing it.
Clearing my throat, I looked across the table at Lisa. “Um, could you maybe just help me put this on the edge of my plate?” I asked, pushing the plate guard toward her. “It’s to keep my food from falling off, but it’s kinda hard for me to attach by myself.”
“Of course!” She got up from her seat and came around to my side of the table, and I talked her through how to stretch out the stainless steel band and snap the metal tabs into place around the edges of the plate.
“Thanks,” I said sheepishly as she sat back down. “Dawn usually does that part for me.”
“No problem!” Lisa smiled as she cut into her steak. “She seems to really enjoy working for you. She had a lot of nice things to say about you and your son.”
“Oh, that’s only because I paid her to,” I joked.
Lisa laughed. “In all seriousness, though, I think it makes her happy to have another little boy to look after, what with everything she went through with her own son.”
I nodded. “I know. She must have been a wonderful mother. Mason loves her.” I stabbed a piece of steak with my fork and raised it carefully to my mouth. It was cooked to perfection, slightly crispy on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside. I chewed slowly, savoring each bite before swallowing.
“Dawn’s a wonderful person,” Lisa agreed as she poured a small puddle of steak sauce onto her plate. “Do you want any of this?” She held up the bottle.
“No, thanks.” I took a sip of my drink. “So, what was Dawn like in high school?” I asked, smiling.
Lisa smiled back. “Fun… and funny. Pretty much what you’d expect. She was always the life of the party. Great softball player, too. We called her ‘Big Mac’ on the team – she was Dawn MacDonald back then.”
“Big Mac, huh?” I chuckled. “How about you? Did you have a nickname?”
“Not really. I was one of several Lisas in our class, so most people just called me by my maiden name, Clark.”
“I see.” I tried some of the whipped potatoes – they were wonderful. “So, do you have any kids?”
She nodded, swallowing a bite of her steak. “Two girls, both in college. One’s a senior at UK, and the other’s a freshman at Centre College.”
“Danville, right?” I replied, surprised to hear that her children were so much older than mine. “My best friend Keith is from there. That’s nice that they’re both so close.”
Lisa smiled and nodded again. “That’s part of the reason I decided to move here, so I could be closer in case they need me. Not that I’m some crazy helicopter mom, but after what happened to their dad, it was hard for them to be away from home.”
I wondered what it would be like for me when Mason moved out someday. He wasn’t even in kindergarten yet, and here Lisa was, already an empty-nester. She was only five years older than me, but we seemed to be at different stages in life. Yet, we still had a lot in common. “I heard about your husband,” I said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. Sorry for yours as well.”
“Thanks,” I said, swallowing hard. I didn’t feel like talking about Kristin, especially not on a first date. “My dad died of colon cancer when I was nineteen. It was one of the hardest times of my life. Your daughters are lucky to have you here.”
“Cancer’s horrible,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that at such a young age, too. It was very hard for all of us, but we’re trying to keep moving forward. That’s what Dave would have wanted us to do. Selling our home and relocating was difficult, but it’s been good for me to get out more and meet new people.” She smiled at me as she speared a piece of broccoli with her fork.
As we continued eating, I tried to turn the conversation to less depressing topics. We talked about sports – she told me stories about being on the softball team with Dawn, and I told her how I’d played football in high school – and music. She mostly listened to country, which helped to explain why she seemed to have no idea who I was. Noticing the gray roots of her hair, I did the math and reminded myself that she had been in her thirties with two small children during the Backstreet Boys’ peak. She probably wasn’t watching our music videos on TRL every afternoon like the bulk of our fan base.
“Did y’all leave room for dessert tonight?” our waiter asked when he came to take our plates.
I looked at Lisa, and she shook her head, her eyes widening. “Goodness, no. I’m way too full.”
“Same,” I said.
After I paid the bill, we made our way to the exit. “Thanks for dinner,” Lisa said, holding the door open for me. “Still up for a movie?”
“Sure. If you feel comfortable, you can ride with me to the theater. It’s not far from here.”
“Okay.” Once she’d buckled herself into the passenger seat of my truck, Lisa looked curiously at the hand controls installed on and around the wheel. “It’s so cool that you’re still able to drive,” she commented.
I nodded. “I just started driving again about a year-and-a-half ago. Had to relearn how to do almost everything differently, which wasn’t easy, but it’s been worth it to be able to get out on my own more. And don’t worry,” I added, starting the engine with the push of a button. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I promise, I’m a safe driver. The crash that put me in this chair wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, smiling at me.
Honestly, I had been freaked out the first time I got behind the wheel again after the accident. I kept reliving the last time, when an SUV had come out of nowhere, speeding through a red light at an intersection and straight into my side of the car. But once I got the feel for driving with hand controls, my fear went away.
When we got to the movie theater, we went inside and scoped out the marquee over the ticket counter. “What do you wanna see?” I asked Lisa. There weren’t many options. February was when the worst films tended to be released. I should have thought about that before suggesting a movie date.
Lisa frowned as she studied the titles. “I haven’t even heard of most of these,” she admitted. “The Woman in Black… Is that the horror movie with the kid who played Harry Potter? I’ve at least seen previews for that. It looks okay, if you like scary movies.”
I nodded. “That’s fine with me. I’ll get the tickets,” I replied, reaching for my wallet.
“You don’t have to do that. You already bought dinner. Let me get the tickets,” Lisa offered, taking her billfold out of her purse. I tried to protest, but before I could dig my wallet out of its pouch on the side of my wheelchair, she had already walked ahead of me to the ticket counter. “Two for The Woman in Black, please,” I heard her tell the teenager working behind it.
I felt irrationally annoyed by that. It was perfectly fair for her to pay for our tickets, since, as she put it, I had already bought dinner. But I had been raised with traditional Southern values and taught that the man should always pay, especially on a first date. My disability already prevented me from being as chivalrous as I wanted to be; I hadn’t been able to pull out her chair for her, hold open doors, or help her with her coat. But I could still be a gentleman when it came to money. It bothered me that she wouldn’t let me, but I didn’t say anything about it when she came back with the tickets in hand.
“Do you want a drink or popcorn or anything?” I asked instead, tipping my head toward the concession counter.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m still too full to eat anything else. Are you going to get anything?”
“No. I do need to use the restroom before we go in, though.”
“Me, too. I’ll meet you back out here.” She made a beeline for the women’s bathroom, and I wheeled myself into the men’s.
It was a relief to have a few minutes to myself. As I got situated in the handicapped stall and began the process of emptying my bladder, I reflected on how the date had gone up to that point. So far, so good, I thought. It hadn’t been a total disaster. I hadn’t done anything to embarrass myself, and Lisa seemed accepting of my disability.
She was waiting for me outside the bathroom when I came back out. “Everything okay?” she asked, looking slightly concerned. I realized I must have been in there a lot longer than she was.
“Fine,” I said, feeling my face flush. “Sorry. It just takes me a while. What theater are we in?”
“Two. It’s over this way.”
I followed her down the hall to the theater. She held the door open for me again as I went in first, rolling down the ramp leading into the large room. There was only one accessible row with room for wheelchairs. I parked my chair in an open space, and Lisa sat down in the seat next to me.
“Perfect timing,” she leaned over to whisper as the theater lights dimmed and the previews began.
I nodded, leaning back in my chair. I’d made it through the hardest parts of the date – dinner and small talk. Now I could finally relax inside the darkened theater and watch a movie. I felt so relieved, I didn’t even care if it was terrible.
The movie turned out to be better than what I was expecting, although it hit a little too close to home for me. The main character, played by Daniel Radcliffe, was a widower with a four-year-old son. By the time the credits rolled, there were tears trickling down my face. I tried to wipe them away before Lisa looked over and saw me crying.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly as we made our way out of the theater.
I nodded. “How did you like the movie?”
“It was good! Kinda depressing, though.”
“Yeah…”
We got into my truck, and I drove her back to the restaurant. “Thanks again for dinner and for the ride,” she said when I dropped her off at her car. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me, too,” I replied. “It was nice meeting you, Lisa.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Kevin. Before I go, could I get your number?”
I gave it to her, taking it as a good sign that she liked me enough to ask for it. After she finished putting it into her phone, she leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. Then she said goodbye and got out of the truck. Despite the cold winter air, my face felt warm and flushed where she had kissed me. I watched her climb into her own car, waiting for her to pull out of our spot before I followed her out of the parking lot.
Dawn was waiting for me when I got home. “How did it go?” she asked eagerly the second I rolled into the house.
“Well, hey there, Big Mac!” I grinned at her.
“Oh god…” She groaned. “Do I even wanna know what you and Lisa talked about? I hope she didn’t tell too many embarrassing stories about me in high school.”
“Nah… though I did hear about that time you split your softball pants sliding into home,” I said, hanging my keys on their hook by the door.
“And scored the tying run doing it!” Dawn added, raising her hands above her head in a victory stance. “We went on to win that game, so… totally worth it.”
“Oh, a hundred percent. And hey, it happens. I can’t tell you how many times I split my pants during a BSB performance,” I replied, chuckling. “If there’s one benefit to being in a wheelchair, it’s that I’ll probably never have that particular wardrobe malfunction happen to me again – and if it did, no one would even notice. Nowadays, I’m more likely to shit my pants than split ‘em.”
Dawn laughed. “So, how did the date go?” she pressed as she followed me into the kitchen.
“It was fine. The food was great, the movie was good, and Lisa was really nice. But…” I trailed off, trying to come up with the right words for what I had realized on my way home. “I dunno. There just wasn’t that spark that I felt the first time I met Kristin. Do you know what I mean?”
Dawn looked disappointed. “Does that mean you don’t wanna go on a second date?”
I shrugged. “I just don’t wanna waste my time – or Lisa’s. I know what true love feels like, and I don’t see myself ever developing those feelings for her. She deserves someone who sees fireworks whenever they look at her – and I want a woman who does that to me, the way Kristin did.”
“Fireworks?” Dawn repeated skeptically, raising her eyebrows. “You have some pretty high expectations there.”
“Yeah, maybe I do. But why should I settle for the first woman to go out with me when there are so many other people in the world? I dunno if it’s possible to have more than one soulmate, but if it is, I wanna wait for her.”
“Fair enough,” said Dawn with a shrug. “Should we head upstairs and get you out of those clothes?”
I nodded, realizing any other man would have been thrilled to hear a woman ask him that after a date. But there was nothing romantic about having Dawn undress me and help me get ready for bed. Maybe someday, I would have a wife who could make my night routine seem sexy and fun, but that day still seemed too far into the future to feel like a reality.
Until then, I was content to keep dreaming of Kristin.
***