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“There is no way you can get me in that thing.” He eyes the chair vehemently. He hates the wheelchairs. I think it’s the use of them that’s been getting him so down. This is one of the wide porter chairs designed for overweight people, which Freddy really isn’t despite my jesting. The staff have offered him his own chair many times, promising if he had his freedom to wheel around, he’d feel better, but he’s refused outright. So it’s the obese chair for now.
“Watch me,” I state. Then I hold my hands on my hips and make a show of breathing in and out, building myself up, like a weightlifter at the Olympics. Finally, I have him in the chair, and I give myself an imaginary clap on the back.
I might not be able to move tomorrow, but it will be totally worth it.
“Right then. Let’s do this.” I kiss the top of his head and speed for the door. Freddy searches around for a seatbelt.
“Shit, I survived a full-on motor crash, but I’m about to be done in by my girlfriend and a wheelchair.” He grips the arms of the chair for effect, but then I make him squeal when I misjudge a slope and nearly put him face first into a wall.
The joking slows down as we make our way through the maze of corridors. Freddy has probably never seen them properly, but for me, they are starting to feel like home. I begin to give him a tour.
“And this is where I get my chocolate stash from.” I point out the vending unit. “And here is where your dad gets that terrible coffee.”
He laughs. “That stuff even smells rank.”
“It’s beyond rank, take my word for it.”
Eventually we get to the double doors. ‘Are you trying to bust me out of this joint?” He glances up at me, his eyes dancing.
“Call it day release.” I steer the chair through the sliding double doors. The freshness of the air hits us and I watch Freddy drag lungful’s of the stuff into his body. I’m glad I had the foresight to hang Freddy’s jacket on the back of the chair as we left his room. I drop it onto his lap and he quickly shrugs it over his shoulders. Taking my time so he can enjoy the slice of freedom I’m offering, I walk us around the outside of the building until I reach the small memorial garden built into a courtyard. High walls give the garden some privacy, and the cold weather ensures there is no one else here. Not even the hardened smokers who like to lurk out of sight.
In the middle of the garden is the most miraculous sight. Centre stage is a huge cherry tree, its branches bowed under the strain of a thousand blossoms. It’s far too early for blossom, but according to the sign under the tree, it was a gift from some far-off country and blooms early.
It’s quite breathtaking and Freddy looks up in wonder at it as I park us underneath, positioning his chair near a cracked wooden bench. From underneath I pull out tartan blankets which I tuck over our legs and a flask of hot chocolate and various other chocolate-based goodies.
“Thank you,” he says once we’ve settled. His eyes are dark and intent on me. “I was going crazy in there; it feels like I can breathe better out here.”
I smile, thrilled my plan is working. “It’s not forever, Freddy. If anyone can do this, you can.”
His fingers grip mine. “How do you know?”
“Because I believe in you. You’re magic, remember?” I lean in and kiss him. “You can do this; we can do this.”
His face tells me he’s not convinced, but I plow on, regardless. “Two months ago, I didn’t know you. Now you are all I see.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so low I can barely hear it.
“What for?”
“For everything: putting you through this, the crash, not being able to bloody walk already.”
“Oh shut up. I’m going to have to punish you if you keep saying things like that.”
“And how exactly do you plan to punish me, young lady? Take my arms away?” He laughs though, so I know he’s not being serious.
Glancing at the little sign on the side of the chair I do some quick calculations. “I’m going to squish you.” I move from my perch on the bench and clamber onto his legs, the entire time praising the Lord for the extra wide chair I picked up from the porter’s station. Once there, I kiss him deeply as I feel his hands wrap around me tight.
We sit there for the longest time, kissing, hugging, laughing, as the heart-shaped cherry blossoms flutter to the wintery ground around us.
Finally, with a sigh, he pulls away. “As lovely as this is, Amber French, you really are rather heavy, and I might have to ask you to move.”
At first neither of us comprehend what he’s said, then both our eyes widen at once. “Can you feel me, Freddy?” My voice raises two pitches in excitement and my heart picks up a staccato beat.
“I don’t know. Can I?”
“I don’t know. Can you?” I pinch his leg hard and wait for a reaction. “What about that?”
He cocks his head to the side as he thinks. “I’m not sure, maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure I’m going to bruise, you bully.”
I start to cry again, even though I don’t want to. A river of relief runs down my cheeks, spreading my make-up.
Freddy doesn’t look sure. “It can’t be. The doctors said it would take months.”
I laugh and kiss him through my tears. “It’s just like I told you, Freddy; you’re made of magic.”
A breeze picks up through the garden, raining more hearts down onto us, and a clear ray of sunshine finds us through the dark and tells me that spring and hope are at last on their way.
