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Jackson
“Cara, come look at this shit!” I shout from the living room. “Look at you, fuckin’ savage.” I praise Wesley. He’s just over two months old now, and Cara has been a Nazi about getting him to do tummy time. Usually he screeches within ten seconds, but today he’s holding his bobbly head high as he stares at me.
“What! What is it?” She comes running in as she’s pulling a shirt over her head.
“Look at him. He’s been doing this for a solid two minutes now.” Just as I say that, his head falls onto the ground and he lets out a little whimper.
“Oh, poor baby.” Cara goes to his aid, as always.
“No, stop. Let him toughen up. He’s going to grow up to be a pussy if you’re always running to him with every whimper and cry.” I wave my hand at Cara for her to get away.
She gives me a nasty look. “He’s just a baby, Jax.”
“Yeah, a baby who needs to hop off his mom’s tit every once in a while.”
Cara sneers at me as she lifts him up. “You really are a bastard sometimes, you know that?” Nuzzling into Wesley’s tearful face, she coos “Daddy’s a big jackass, isn’t he?”
When the door knocks, Cara goes to open it and looks right at Rose. “Someone tell Jackson that you can never coddle a newborn too much.”
Rose gasps and looks at me. “What the hell are you trying to do to my nephew? Make him some soulless human?” Then she grimaces. “Oh, sorry.”
Yeah, I’m that soulless human.
“What are you talkin’ about? You gotta let the boy grow some balls.” Easton waltzes in with a cocky smile on his face.
He gets a swift slap to the chest from Rose. “Fuck off. Definitely not having kids with you if that’s your outlook on parenting.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll knock your ass up tonight and you won’t say a thing about it.”
Her lip curls back. “Try me.”
“Okay, guys. As much as I’ve always enjoyed listening to you guys bicker, what’re you doing here?”
Easton looks over at me with a huge smile on his face. “I got something for you, bro.”
“A beezy I hope.”
Easton laughs. “Nah, hold up.” He walks outside, and then a small humming noise gets louder moments before a motorized chair glides through my front door, Easton sitting in it.
“What is this?” Cara asks, jaw dropped in awe.
“Holy shit, man.” I’ve seen what these things cost, and we might not be tight on money by any means, but this shit is still expensive as hell.
“Picked this out with Hugo the other night. You like it?” He parks right next to me and stands up, offering the chair to me.
“But, why?” I’ve already got a chair and it works just fine. Since I’ve slowly been getting my mobility back in my upper half, I’ve been able to somewhat maneuver the chair around when need be. Physical therapy has been beneficial now that I have some feeling. My upper body has been getting stronger by the day.
Still not a lick of feeling in my bottom half. Dr. Peterson tries to hide his discouraging look every time my test results come back. I know there’s no improvement. I’m still working on it though. I’m not going to give up hope.
That sad, depressing kid who left the hospital has been smashed up and thrown in the trash can. The old Jackson is back, and I’m not going to let it hold me back from doing what I need to do.
“This shit is sleek. The battery power is great and will last you hours. You can only do so much with a manual wheelchair. You need this.”
I smile at him. A genuine one. “Thanks, man.”
“Wanna try it out? I’ve got a meeting, if you want to come.” He lifts his eyebrows, and gratitude shoots into my chest like an arrow. A feeling of somewhat normalcy floats over me and there’s nothing I want more than to go to one of our meetings.
I used to go to them multiple times a week. It’s been months since I’ve been to one.
