His face ironed out before he glanced at Jesse like he was flagging him down for a lifeboat.
“Thanks for swinging by personally, Mr. Winters. We appreciate it.” Jesse came forward to shake the guy’s hand.
“You might as well take it back with you though,” I piped up, trying not to glare at the towering piece of machinery stuffed into the corner of my room.
From Jesse, a sigh followed a few moments later. From Steve, his brows drew together as if he’d misunderstood me or wasn’t following.
“You’ll need a chair, Garth,” Jesse said. “No matter what happens or what changes, you’ll need a chair for a while to get around.”
I snorted. “That’s not a ‘chair,’ Jess. That’s an upright spaceship with wheels and a joy stick.” I shook my head and looked away from where it sat, taking up a chunk of my room. “Take it back.”
“We’re not sending it back,” Jesse said in a gentle enough tone that I knew he was addressing Steve and not me.
“Maybe we’re not, but I am.” My eyes flashed to find Jesse hovering above me while Steve hovered over me from the other side. Everyone hovered over me now. Even if I was sitting upright, they’d still be hovering. I hated it. I wanted to be able to look a person straight in the eye when we spoke, but I couldn’t. “I mean, did you see how he drove it in here? With his hand. I don’t happen to have the use of my hands, so even if I wanted to be strapped into that thing, I couldn’t go anywhere once I was.”
Jesse looked at Steve, who cleared his throat. “The chair is designed for both paraplegics and quadriplegics. You can operate it with your hand or with your mouth.”
I shouldn’t have been able to feel my heart thundering in my chest and about to break through my ribcage, but right then, I felt like I could. Maybe it was beating so hard it was pounding in my ears and vibrating my brain, but I could feel my heart. “Take it back.” I sounded out-of-breath. “I won’t be operating it with my hand, my mouth, or anything else.”
“Garth—”
“I’m not trying to deny what’s happened to me or playing ignorant to the shape I’m in, Jess,” I said, shaking my head. “However, I’m not ready to exchange two legs for four wheels. Give reality some time to settle in before you roll a machine like that into a person’s room, okay?” He was opening his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off again. “Besides, I don’t need to have shopped for something like that to know it costs way more than my pay grade.”
“Garth—”
“Especially since I don’t have a pay grade anymore, probably never will again, and am fortunate enough to not have health insurance, thanks to a lack of forward thinking and the professional bull riding circuit being under the impression that health benefits are for sissies.” The silver lining to the night of my accident was that I’d stayed on long enough and earned a high enough score to score a nice chunk of prize money. However, since it was highly likely that would be the last ride I’d ever make, I needed to make my bull riding winnings stretch as long as I could. I wasn’t going to drop thousands of dollars on something I wanted no part of.
When I was finally finished, Jesse didn’t jump right back in. He stood beside my bed silently, looking at me expectantly. He let another minute pass.
“Are you done now?” he said, arching a brow. “Can I get a few words in before you cut me off again?”
I would have made a smartass proceed motion if I’d had the use of my hand, so instead I answered by staying quiet.
“I wasn’t the one who ordered it. I was just the one who was the one closest to the door and answered it, so stop blaming me for the chair.” Even though I could tell Jesse was irritated, he wasn’t raising his voice. He was like the Zen master of keeping his cool. “And no matter what happens, you’re going to need a chair to get around in for a while. You don’t want to spend day in and day out in that bed, do you?” He paused, waiting for me to answer, but I wouldn’t answer his rhetorical question with a rhetorical answer. “Being able to move around the house and get outside for some fresh air seems only about a thousand times better than being trapped inside this ten-by-ten-foot room.”
“Speak for yourself,” I muttered. “You won’t have to put up with people gawking at you while you breathe into a tube to make some wheels turn. There hasn’t been anything this gossip-worthy since crazy old Pete Whittaker held a nail gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.”
I exhaled sharply, picturing what I’d look like scooting along in that spaceship of a wheelchair. I’d never seen anyone use a chair like that in person, but I’d caught glimpses of some documentary about a scientist who used one when I’d been in the waiting room at the mechanic’s. That kind of chair might work for genius scientists, but how was a bull-rider-slash-rancher supposed to carry on working in something like that?
“But on the bright side, I could rent out a space at the county fair every year and charge to give rides and spins in the freak-show chair. The kids ought to love that, right?”
Jesse had long ago gotten used to my smartass approach to life and how when I was presented with two ways to address a problem, I usually went with the more controversial, but even his patience with me looked to be waning. It was either that or the dark shadows under his eyes were due to lack of sleep. “You obviously want to fight the chair topic, so I’m going to send in the person who took the time and energy to get it for you.”