Page 34 of Holding On

He smiles. "I don't have any food."

I smile back. "You seriously need to make a grocery list. I usually go on Wednesdays, so make a list and I'll pick up what you need. Or we can go shopping together if you want."

"No," he blurts out.

"Why not?"

"I don't like people seeing me like...you know, in the chair."

Why is he so sensitive about the wheelchair? Everyone knows he broke his leg and needed surgery. They'd understand why he's still using the chair.

"Okay, well, you can still make a list and then I'll bring the stuff over on Thursday when I come over to clean."

"Is that the next time I'll see you? Next Thursday?" He sounds sad again and it makes me wonder if I'm the only person who comes over here. Could that really be true? But he's Ethan Baxter. The most popular guy on campus. A local celebrity. He must have at least a few friends in town for the summer who visit him. Or maybe not. He said he takes a cab to see his doctor. If he had friends in town, they'd drive him to his appointments.

"Did you want to see me sooner than Thursday?" I ask.

"Maybe. I mean, if you have some time to kill. I could order us dinner. I owe you for the burger."

"I'd like that but I'm not sure if I'll have time. I'll have to check my work schedule."

"If you can't, that's fine. But I would like to see you again, outside of Thursdays."

We leave it at that and watch TV until almost midnight.

"I need to get home," I say, getting up to leave. "It's late."

"Yeah." Ethan grips the couch and lifts himself up and into the wheelchair. His strength is evident in the ease at which he transfers his body to the chair in one smooth effortless motion. "I'll walk you out." He chuckles. "Or wheel you out. Is that right? It can't be. That makes it sound like you're the one in the chair. What's the right terminology?"

"I don't know but I wouldn't worry about it. I get the point."

At least he's joking about the chair. Before, he was so sensitive about it that just bringing it up made him tense and moody.

When we're standing by my van, I say, "Happy Fourth of July."

"You too." He reaches up and grasps my hand. "Thanks again for stopping by. And tell your brother thanks for the burger."

"I will." I smile and wait for him to release my hand. He doesn't, and for a moment, I think he's going to pull me down to his level and kiss me. But then he lets go of my hand.

"Goodnight," he says.

"Goodnight."

When I get home, Mike is up, watching TV. I was hoping he'd be asleep, but of course, he's waiting up.

"Home kind of late, aren't you?" Mike chuckles as I come into the apartment.

"I didn't even get there until six-thirty."

"And now it's midnight. Thought you weren't going to stay long."

"I wasn't, but then we started talking and made s'mores and watched fireworks. You could see them from his patio."

"And then what?"

I plop down on the couch next to him. "Why are you being so nosy?"

"Because you're my little sister and I worry about you. I don't want Ethan taking advantage of you."

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