Five Feet or Less Read online

  Five Feet or Less

  By Erik Schubach

  Copyright © 2013 by Erik Schubach

  Self publishing

  P.O. Box 523

  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

  Cover Photo © 2013 Photomak / ShutterStock.com license

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  FIRST EDITION

  ISBN 978-0-9889998-8-6

  Chapter 1 – Out In Public

  I finished the coding for the charity auction site and was initiating a voice call on my headset to the organizers. I logged into their web server, smoothed my skirt, and then I wheeled myself in my gold and black, low profile wheelchair, into the kitchen with my laptop on my lap, to get something to drink.

  While I listened to the phone ringing and waited for someone to answer, I opened the refrigerator and rummaged around on the second shelf, reaching for the last grape juice.

  I made note of the fact that the bottom two shelves were almost empty and I was almost out of everything. They were my domain. Out of my reach, the top two shelves belonged to my roommates. I'd have to go shopping soon. I peeked into the freezer below the refrigerator. Damn, out of TV dinners, too. I hated going out in public.

  I started wheeling back toward my desk with my juice, avoiding all the clutter on the ground left by my inconsiderate roommates. They are a pain, and Gwen and Marcie really are bitches and bullies, but they don't treat me anymore like a freak than they treat anyone else. We used to be friends in grade school, but something changed in junior high. They have picked on me ever since, and it never changed when I got confined to this chair. I liked that they didn't change the way they treated me, which is probably the only reason I put up with their sorry asses.

  They are so lazy, I feel like their maid service and tech support at times. But other times I just let the stuff gather up like this to remind them of how big of slobs they are, and it isn't my job to clean up after them.

  The wheels of my wheelchair settled into the indentations in the carpet in front of my desk. Made by my four years of living here.

  I remember how shocked I was when they asked me to be their roommate out of high school. It was right after our graduation. While everyone else was going off to a party, I was wheeling myself toward the state sponsored young adult transition home that I had been at the last month. They booted me out of the foster home I was in, since I “aged out” of the system when I turned eighteen. I had to pack. I had just a week after graduation before they booted me to the curb, too. I needed to find a place to stay. I had money from the accident, and a good income coming in from website design and coding, so that wasn't a problem.

  I stopped when Gwen called out, “Hey Wheels! Wait up you degenerate!” I turned to see her and Marcie running up. God I hated those pretty blonde pep squad girls. I wanted to slap the smirk off of Gwen's face. The only thing I hated more than these two girls, was when they called me Wheels. I missed when we used to be friends.

  Marcie was almost a clone of Gwen and just mimicked her. I don't think she's ever had an original thought in her head. She was Gwen's personal Mini Me.

  I could never look Gwen in the eyes and to this day I still don't know why. I looked at the ground when they caught up and I spoke quietly, “What do you want? I have to go pack.”

  She responded with something that surprised me. “That's what we need to talk to you about. Marcie and I are getting a place, but we can't afford the rent ourselves, we need a roommate. We were wracking our brains trying to figure out who would be an OK roommate. Then we realized you are the least offensive of the freaks from the school... and definitely won't be stealing our boyfriends. What do you say? We need a roommate and you need a place to stay. Sounds like a no-brainer even with someone of your limited mental acuity.”

  What does she mean by “definitely won't be stealing our boyfriends”? She's always making comments like that. What, won't a guy look at a girl in a chair? I think I'm pretty besides the whole, can't stand or walk thing.

  I looked up at her quickly then back down and got a little bold and hissed, “Limited? I did all your homework the past seven years.” Crap, I felt bad for acting out like that. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

  She snickered. “Ha! I thought you decided to grow a spine for a second. You know I'm just messing with ya Wheels. So what do you say?”

  I thought about it for a second and almost whispered, “Where is it at? Do I get a room of my own?”

  She replied, “It's in the old Browns Building on the second floor. There are two bedrooms, I won't force Marcie to room with a degenerate so I guess you get the small bedroom, we'll share the big one.”

  I glanced up at her in shock but avoided eye contact. “Second floor? So you immediately think of me? Good luck finding a roommate.” And I started wheeling off. This was just another one of their half cooked, cruel jokes. The Browns Building was built long before people even thought of accessibility, and I wasn't that good with stairs in my chair back then.

  My forward motion suddenly stopped and I looked back to see Gwen holding my chair back. She nervously let go of it and pulled her hand back quickly then almost grabbed my chair again. Instead she brought her hand up to her mouth and pressed her fist against her lips. That was the first time I had ever seen that girl hesitate or get nervous about anything since first grade.

  Then she dropped her hand and her usual cockiness was back. “You don't think we hadn't thought of that Wheels? They have a freight elevator. Well, it is broken now but the landlord says it will be repaired by the end of the week. Until then, we can haul your lazy ass up and down the stairs.”

  They were really serious about it. Still, to this day, I don't know why I said yes. Well, maybe I do... I'd never admit it to anyone, but I kind of see them as the closest thing I have to real friends. Real bitchy, politically incorrect and insensitive friends, but friends.

  There are lots of people that act like my friends, but I know it is only because I'm a girl in a wheelchair and it is pity or they want to appear politically correct, they are all mostly fake. Though there are a few exceptions like all of Crystal McKay's friends, every single one of them is amazing.

  And that damn elevator STILL isn't fixed four years later! Still with a promise from the landlord that he'll get someone in next week to look at it. Needless to say, I'm pretty damn good on stairs in my chair now.

  I chuckled to myself at the memories.

  Someone answered my call as I was copying the finished files up to the web server. “Hello? Hi. Yes, this is Reese Qualls with Qualltech. I'm ready to make the charity auction live on your website. Just say the word. Now? OK, hang on a second.” I logged into the back-end controls on their website and activated it. “Refresh your page... got it? Great. OK. I already put up the first few items as you requested and I emailed detailed instructions on managing the auctions. If you have any questions don't hesitate to call. Thanks. You too... bye.” I smiled, that was an easy seven hundred dollars for about four hours of actual work.

  I hung up then put my headset on the desk then wheeled over to the gir
ls room and knocked on the door lightly. A very disgruntled Marcie yelled out, “What!? Trying to sleep here Wheels!”

  I spoke quietly through the door, “You two are going to be late for work if you don't get up soon. I won't be here to give you your second and third call, I need to get some groceries before too many people are out and about.”

  I got a pissy, “Whatever!” back from her.

  I shrugged then grabbed my keys and purse off the counter, being sure the wrinkled green envelope was in it's place inside, as I wheeled toward the front door. I got half way out the door when Gwen came running out of her room wearing only the oversized t-shirt she sleeps in. She had a good case of bed head but still looked good. God I hated her, I had to work at it for almost an hour in the morning just to look presentable. I looked down. She quickly said, “I need more beer Wheels. Grab me a case while you are shopping?”

  I sighed and spoke quietly, “Why don't you get it yourself on your way home from work?” I didn't really want to wrestle the box into my car.

  Then Gwen did what she has always done since junior high school after my accident, she grabbed my chin and gently raised my gaze to look at her eyes then she tilted her head and smiled at me, almost cutely. “Wheels?”

  I blushed profusely and caved like I always have when she does that, I still can't figure out why I do. Maybe it is because she knew me when I could walk? But once she figured it out, she has always used it against me.

  I looked back down, ashamed of myself for giving in yet again and said, “Fine. But you need to carry it up from the car.” She chuckled to herself at her expected victory and tossed a couple twenties on my lap then wandered back to her bedroom. It pisses me off that I can't be assertive with her like I can with everyone else. My anger makes me strong outside of this apartment where I try to keep myself barricaded in. This will be my first outing in two and a half weeks.

  I figure grocery store and home. Maybe I won't leave my windows cracked when I get home and the late summer heat can warm her beer up... no, I can't sink to her level.

  I locked the apartment door behind me and started to turn around to back down the stairs. Nah. Instead I just popped a wheelie and slowly dropped to the first step keeping my front caster wheels suspended in the air, then the next step and next, until I hit the lobby. Just then the landlord came into the lobby through the front doors of the building and saw me. “Hey Qualls! I had to paint the walls on the stairs AGAIN! You keep banging them up with your God damn chair when you go up! I'm going to charge you for the paint next time!”

  Oh good! I need to vent. This dark haired, middle-aged, fit guy was a transplant in Seattle from New York, and hostility is the language he speaks. “If you'd fix the damn freight elevator like you have been promising for four years you wouldn't have that problem, Mr. Underman! I'm one of the best tenants you've ever had so don't go threatening me. I wonder what the city inspector would say about the elevator!”

  I wheeled to the door, and he opened it for me as he yelled, “One of these days, Qualls! You're destructive ass will move out and I'll have peace and quiet around here!”

  I grinned at him. This was the waltz we danced. Mutually assured destruction. He really was a nice man under all that bluster. He was always doing polite things like opening the door for all the other female tenants here, not just me, so I knew it wasn't just the chair. I called back, “Have a nice day Ezekiel.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, you too, Reese.” He flung his hand down like he was dismissing me.

  I got to my bright red mini van and opened the driver's side slider and the driver's door and unbuckled the chair's seat belt from around my waist. I pulled myself up into the driver's seat facing out to the road using the door handle and the steering wheel, then reached down to snag my chair and I folded it and slid it into its slot behind the driver's seat. I hit the button on my keys and the sliding door shut as I twisted in the seat and grabbed my legs and swung them inside then shut the door.

  I smoothed out my skirt then buckled my seat belt. Now that my choreographed car transfer was finished, I started Bessie, checked the hand controls, then headed off to the local store. I think this may be the year I finally spring for a chair lift or folding ramp so I can just wheel into the van and transfer myself into the driver's seat out of the public eye. Plus, some day, I won't have the strength to do it this way anymore.

  When I arrived, I pulled into the back of the lot where there were no other cars. I won't use one of those handicapped spots if I can help it. There are plenty of people with less mobility than me. The only time I use one is if the lot is almost full and I don't think I'll have enough room to get back into Bessie if someone parks next to me.

  I did my chair transfer and locked my van and started wheeling off toward the store. I veered off at the last second to the adjoining Starbucks. Must have coffee! I giggled at the cliché of a geek programmer needing her caffeine.

  I got to the door and reached up then pushed it open with one hand as I propelled my chair through the opening with the other. The line was long already. All the office workers of the world heading off to work, getting their own caffeine fix.

  A man was reading a newspaper and sipping his coffee as he was walking out and ran right into me. I'm used to it. When people are multitasking they fail to look down. I get this as much as I get the people pretending not to see me or trying so hard to act 'normal' around me or treat me like I'm fragile. I hate all of that kind of behavior. So frigging what if I'm in a chair? I'm still just a person.

  The man started doing another thing I hate, feeling sorry for me. “Oh God! I'm so sorry! Are you OK? Did I hurt you? I didn't see you.”

  I took a deep breath and looked up at him, everyone was looking at me now. Shit. “I'm fine. No harm, no foul.” I waved him off.

  He apologized again and once he left and the the whispers stopped, I noticed Mai behind the counter. I smiled at the emo Japanese-American girl as she waved me up. I bypassed the line and she leaned over the counter with a grin while she prepared my drink. “So... I installed the WiFi booster like you told me over IM... my ping is down to sixty five milliseconds! I'm trashing the competition on Robo-Terror online now!”

  I grinned. “Sweet! I'll melee you tonight then.” She nodded.

  I met her on an online chat room for Robo-Terror a few months back and found out she lived in Seattle too and worked here at Starbucks. We have been sort of geek-acquaintances ever since. She handed me my black coffee... I know, not too original when everyone is half calf double foam sea urchin triple mocha twist-ing their coffee now or whatever. I slid her a five.

  Some lady behind me grumbled, “Oh you've got to be kidding me. There's a line here! What's with the preferential treatment?”

  I looked back to see a woman about my age. And... wow. She was wearing torn black jeans and a band tee shirt with a bit of her flat stomach showing, and some black converse. Her unnatural silky, cherry red, flowing hair was tied in a super loose side ponytail, hanging in front of her on the right. She must have had six piercings in each ear with delicate silver hoops hanging down in a wave and a stud in her nose. But her large green eyes just jumped out at you. They drew your own in. You could seriously drown in those things! She looked truly pissed, it didn't look flattering on her unconventionally cute face. She made it all look... I don't know... chic? Trendy? Sexy?

  People behind her were trying to defend me... I hate that! They don't know me... it's just because of the chair. I looked up at her. “Sorry. Mai is just an online buddy of mine.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “I'm so happy for you. Can you move now so I can order? I'm going to be late, the music store won't open itself.” She stared at me expectantly. I was just staring at her.

  Oh! “Sorry.” I wheeled out of the way and looked back at Mai. “See you online tonight.” She nodded then turned her perturbed glare at the woman in line.

  I looked again at the girl who now had people in line glaring at her back. I don't kno
w what their problem was, I actually kind of liked how she bitched at me like she would anyone else who cut line. My chair didn't figure into her equation. She was more real than they were. They should be mad at me too for cutting in front of them.

  I sat in the back, drinking my coffee and watched her leave. I smiled a little. Then I looked around to see the familiar looks of pity on people's faces. This is why I hate going out into public. I shook my head and finished my coffee and threw the empty cup in the trash.

  I wheeled over to the door and pulled it open before a woman who was hustling over could get it for me. I jammed a wheel against it to keep it open as I repositioned my hand on the handrim of my wheel then wheeled my way out and to the grocery store.

  Ahhhh! Blessed be the man who invented automatic doors! His name shall be heralded in song and a light shall shine down upon him from the heavens! The automatic door slid open and I wheeled in, giggling to myself over my inner monologue.

  I grabbed a cart and pushed it in front of me as I wheeled down the isles, alternating my hands. I grabbed the basics. And went to the soup aisle, I grabbed my little stick with the hooked rubber tipped end and pulled my favorite chunky chicken soup off one of the upper shelves and caught it as it fell then put it in the cart. I was going for a second can when a man stepped over quickly. “Let me help you with that.”

  I glanced at him with my practiced fake smile. “It's alright sir. I got it. Thanks for the offer though.” I know he's just being nice, but I have a perpetual mad on not knowing if it is genuine helpfulness or simply because of the chair. I know, I sound mental, but that's just me. I'm sure my therapist would point out a million reasons why it is wrong for me to act like this... if I had a therapist. I yanked another can off the shelf and caught it then smiled at him again as I put it in my cart.

  He grinned then continued on with his shopping. Then I was off to the bakery for bread and the frozen food aisle for TV dinners. I know they aren't the best thing to be eating all the time, but they are just so damn convenient and easy. They have been my steady dinner diet for the last four years.