Vodka Cranberry

 

         I knew this was a bad idea to even try and come, what's the point? My crippled ass can't even get into the party.  Nick’s mind clouded with doubt. Hope and doubt are two very similar things; they take a sure bet and in the dark, whisper "what if?" 

         Fortunately, Nick had a lot of both. The tires on his wheelchair spun violently to no avail at the edge of the two by fours that acted as a makeshift ramp. Nothing was ever easy; from getting up in the morning to coming up with the right thing to say. Struggle was the norm.  

         A faint smell of burning rubber hung in the air as his chair flailed and shuddered in the front doorway of the house, like an animal caught in a trap. 
         A battle of machine verses terrain. 

        "Maybe I should give it a push?" Glen suggested.

        "Try it I guess," Nick replied with a shrug.  A mosquito buzzed loudly in his ear, much like the worried thoughts did at times. Muscular Dystrophy had weakened his body but his mind was free to wander.

         Glen pushed with all his weight while Nick gunned it.  The motors whined as the two hundred pound power-wheelchair tried to climb over the threshold. The wheels locked up and the chair lurched to a halt.

          Fuck!" Glen grunted.  His frustration was palpable, physically dejected, his shoulders down like a scolded child. He sat down in the grass to take a break for a moment. Glen was a true friend despite not knowing each other very long. They were close like they had known each other their entire lives. All he wanted tonight was his friend to be able to have some fun.   

         "Do you guys need some help?" Aaron asked with a smirk, as he struggled with the keg in the back of his blue Jeep Wrangler that was thoroughly caked with mud. With a sloshy, metallic thud the beer crashed to the pavement. Illuminated but the eerie yellow glow of the streetlight he approached the desperate scene, ready to help.  

         "Hey Aaron, what up man?” Nick quipped.  “We really could use some of that beer! If I ever get in the house, that is." 

He didn't even like beer all that much, but saying it made him feel like he was just one of the guys.  Attempts to be normal had dominated his thoughts for such a long time; it limited him and gave him strength all at the same time.  Just being able to come tonight made him feel a little better.

        "Don't worry dude, we'll get you in there, no doubt!" Aaron said.  He had known Nick since kindergarten and he would be damned if he let a few steps stop his buddy. High school had ended for all of them a few weeks earlier—the social groups had held for now but there was an unspoken understanding that it would all change. The tide of the future was coming in and time was running out. 

       They both got into position and heaved while Nick threw the joystick forward.  At full speed, the struggling power chair started to scale the threshold. With the help of another set of hands, the big wheels clambered through the door and slammed down harshly. If Nick had not been belted in he probably would have fallen out of his seat. 

      "You ok, buddy?" Glen said worriedly.

      "I'm good! I'm ready to get fucked up!" Nick bellowed in a triumphant, yet slightly shaken tone. Nick's tires squeaked as he drove over the assorted pile of girls’ flip-flops scattered carelessly near the door. 

      He was in. A small but sweet victory. 

The hot July night left Glen's air conditioner-free house at about ninety degrees, but the sweltering heat did not faze Nick in the slightest.  

         Not on this night.  He felt excited, free, and ready for a good time. 

The hallway leading to the kitchen was an extremely tight fit for his wheelchair. The antique desk on the right side of the dimly lit hallway groaned loudly like an oak-tree in a windstorm as Nick scraped by. He pictured it splintering in a dramatic fashion, as if an ax had to been smashed through it. Completely unsalvageable. 

         I've been in a wheelchair for ten years, I should at least know how to drive the damn thing!  

         "Oh shit!" He muttered under his breath. He hoped Glen hadn't noticed the knock against the presumed ancient family heirloom. He looked back towards the front door, more than a little paranoid. Luckily, Glen was still outside helping Aaron with the cylinder of golden liquid confidence.  

Narrowly escaping the gauntlet of obstacles Nick emerged into kitchen. Another friend, Natalie sat at the kitchen table, beautiful as ever. Her bare feet were up on a nearby chair, she was clearly oblivious to all the commotion, her eyes locked on her Blackberry. In a blur of red nail polish she typed away at a furious pace, totally entranced. Nick's chair clicked awkwardly as it stopped, prompting Natalie to look up.  

         "Nick!" She squealed, as she leapt from her seat nearly knocking over her red party cup.  It was filled with cranberry juice and the cheap vodka she had bought with her fake ID that looked nothing like her. She hugged him with caution, her soft blonde hair lightly brushing past his neck.

Her hand lingered for a moment on his shoulder as she asked how he was.

"I'm great, how about you?" Nick smiled. In that moment he was overwhelmed by his attraction to her.  A deep longing filled his heart as he realized just how little anyone ever touched him. They had been friends since the eighth grade but despite her excitement he never seemed to be able to move past small-talk. The right thing to say always managed to elude him. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to kiss her right now. Nick shrugged off the thought, embarrassed.

         "I'm really good!" she said.  “Do you want a drink?" 

         "Well what are your having?" He hoped the answer wasn't beer, which he only drank out of some self-inflicted obligation. 

         "Vodka cranberry!" Natalie giggled. He had no idea what was funny about it.

         "I would love one of those right now!" Nick hoped that alcohol would make him a little braver. 

         Drink in hand, he felt more at ease.  Amazed at the amount he was actually drinking, Nick struck up conversations with his friends.  He wished he had gotten a bit closer with all of them before now. Saying the right thing didn't seem to matter so much anymore—just being around his friends put him at peace. 

   The night went on as life always does.  

         Nick, by now, was feeling the generous amount vodka that Natalie had poured him earlier. The world was spinning slightly and his hands felt a little numb.  

         He was enjoying the shit-show. Drunk high schoolers are quite a fascinating thing to watch, and parties a strange ritual: people drink copious amounts of alcohol in order to surrender their minds, bodies, and emotions to the whim of instinct.  Some laugh, some cry, and everything in between. In an attempt to simply "have a good time" a symphony of human drama unfolds—a torrent of pure life. 

         Nick had a feeling that once the drunk personas emerged, the events played out the same way every party. The hook-ups, the fuck-ups, the break ups, the break downs and the jokes—an odd pattern.  Conformity as a form of rebellion. Order from chaos. 

         Nick looked around.  One guy was making out with two girls at once, and another was trying to break dance in his boxers. Beer pong was being played, pot was being smoked. Nick wished he could live in the same carefree way.  He wanted so much more out of life.

         The party sprang to life as more people arrived and the drinks continued to flow. Nick had now settled into a discussion with Glen about movies, a topic they had bonded over in the past. On the other side of the room an extremely intoxicated brunette with a tight leopard print top, stumbled around as if on a boat in rough seas, talking equally as nautical. He glanced at her just as a look of terror crossed her face, she had been pounding shots all night. She let out a small gag, then quickly ran to the bathroom. 

         As she loudly expelled the contents of her stomach, he realized it was Natalie's best friend, Claire. His mind drifted back to the overwhelming feelings for Natalie that he had—she was incredible.            

         All of a sudden an electric wave of confidence washed over Nick. 

He realized that his thoughts about Natalie had not ceased all night. 

         What was he waiting for? 

         She was here and he wanted her—pure and simple. Natalie would be leaving for college in a few weeks, he had no idea if he would see her again this summer. The rest of her life was calling and this town wasn't part of it. He knew that once she was gone no amount of Facebook messaging could keep her from drifting away. He was falling for her and he didn't even have her phone number. 

         With new found resolve he searched Glen's house for her, the pursuit frantic like the world was ending. She was nowhere to be found; his heart sank. Had she left?  

He rolled with a hopeful speed into the living room, taking a safer route this time. He wanted to avoid his perilous entrance from the beginning of the night that seemed a lifetime ago.  The room was a dark abyss except for the blue electronic glow of a single Blackberry. She was still there. There is still time.  

         "Hey, Natalie…" He paused, heart pounding out of his chest. "Can I have your number? I just realized I don't have it and I would love to text you sometime." Was all he could managed to say. There was so much more ricocheting around inside his head but his confidence, as well as his stamina were beginning to wane. 

        "Aww Nick, Sure!" She squeaked with that unyielding enthusiasm he was enamored with. She suddenly and without hesitation grabbed Nick's cellphone from his lap. With a cheerful smirk she hastily entered her contact into his touch-screen monstrosity with fold out keyboard that was the anchor of his limited social life. "Are you having a good time tonight?"

     "Yes I am." He said with a hollow, slightly pensive tone. He had truly been having great time but he was starting to strongly regret how little he had said to this amazing girl that was right in front of him. She tenderly returned the phone back to were it had rested on his lap. An awkward silence descended like the cold vacuum of space for what seemed like an eternity. The deafening nothingness was broken by the buzz of Natalie's BlackBerry. 

     
         Feeling particularly lost for words Nick began to turn around slowly, as she typed a quick response. He was nearly half way out of the room when he stopped dead. There was no way he could leave it like this—not this time. Like an experienced stunt driver he whipped his chair around, turning to face the person that caused him so much lovely disquiet.

         "Natalie! I've always thought that you were so beautiful and I just... really want to kiss you."

         He blurted out. "I'm sorry." Quickly backpedaling. "I just..."

   

         "Shhh!" She interrupted, softly resting her hand on his cheek which caught him somewhat him off-guard. 

         Nick's focus became serene, despite the alcohol, he was now hyper-aware.  Holy shit, this is really happening.  Happiness filled him like helium, lighter that air and taking up the entire volume of his emotions. 

         She bent down to his level. All he could smell now was the shampoo she had washed her hair with, it's fresh bouquet reminded him of spring when everything is new, full of life. He looked deep into her stunning brown eyes, wondering what she was thinking—her hopes, her dreams, and her fears. Her sublime face began to approach his with a slow but magnetic entice. He could hear her breathing, feel its warmth on his skin. 

         She closed her eyes as if to shut out the world, choosing only to feel it. He felt her perfect soft lips press against his tenderly. The kiss was a beautiful, terrible, and transcendent masterpiece of circumstance. His mind, his body, and his soul were all in harmony. For once desire and reality had converged. He couldn't keep is face from grinning as they kissed. This was so much more than just a drunken kiss at a party for him–it was hope.

     
         In this instant the past and the future did not matter. 

         In this moment he felt alive. Seen.