The Judged

“Would you like help with that sir?” I heard a shop assistant ask while I reached for the canned peas upon the seventh shelf inside Asda. Eyes like disgusted daggers upon my back, people judging me by how I look, their eyes calling me cripple, while those who they would call cripple look upon me like a normal human. My hands tighten around the rims of my wheels, no fancy electronics for me, although I did choose to have red rims on my wheel chair.

“No thanks, I think I want beans now,” I replied as I spun my wheels to move towards the canned beans. Stretching, my fingertips just managed to reach the bottom of the tin. A little more and I was finally reaching the top of the tin. With just more than a gentle tug, the tin toppled over, landing in my left hand with a soft thump. I smiled to myself, proud of what I had accomplished on my own. I dropped it into the green basket on my lap. A cripple? Yeah right, more like a human with a better insight to life.

I had only been in the wheel chair for one month now but already I found that like all things it just took a bit of getting use to. My wheelchair was brilliant, soft padded violet chair with lilac handles for friends and family who wanted to push me around. Their choice obviously! I mean, my arms were finally getting the workout they deserved. As for my legs; well it’s still a touchy topic to be honest.

“Tyson!” I heard someone shout as I started to push off down the aisle. I turned back to see Hilary waving at me, her auburn hair swaying in the air-conditioning breeze. I waved, feeling strange inside as if something was fluttering around within me. ‘What are you doing here Tyson?’ she asked me.

I shrugged, “Just picking up a few items really. You?” I asked trying to talk out my growing emotions as she seemed to float towards me on some heavenly wind, her jade green eyes connecting with mine. I could just imagine how much my cheeks were turning red. They were probably a deep cherry colour by now.

“Well I finished my last year of university last week and now I’m writing a book,” she replied, her voice coated with honey. She looked amazing in her light blue nylon t-shirt and her dark green jeans, probably made of cotton.

She smiled as she put a cream white hand upon my shoulder. I took note of every line, hair and spot upon it. I even noticed that she had gone and had a pedicure, heaven knows why. Her nails now wore a good coat of navy blue nail vanish, silver stars positioned at precise intervals. One, two, three on every nail.

“Are you alright?” an angelic like voice asked. I twitched. I suddenly realised that I had been staring at her hand for quite a bit of time. I smiled, planning out my words carefully; soon I had the perfect set,

“I’m fine thanks. I was just admiring your nails. Must have taken a while to get those stars in exactly the same position on everyone,” I laughed. An eyebrow rose on her face and I suddenly realised my mistake.

“Are they in the same position? I never knew that,” she replied, seeming to miss my near fatal error. I smiled and nodded as I pointed towards the canned peas. It was wrong, I know but I wanted to keep her around for a while longer.

“Can you get a tin of them for me please?” I asked hiding the deeper meaning to the question. As usual, Hilary was polite and smiled as she reached for the tinned peas. In those few minutes I came up with topic to talk about and as she handed me the peas I spoke, gently, of-course, “Do you have a boyfriend?” She seemed to be taken by surprise for a second, then came the dreadful reply. The reply no one wants to hear!

“That’s right, I haven’t introduced you to him yet have I?” she turned round towards a tall man, not thin but not fat either. He wore an army outfit and wore his dark brown hair down in a ponytail. “Paul! Come here for a minute please,” she asked. A gruff voice answered with growing irritation.

“What is it? I told you earlier I would be busy.” Hilary frowned and decided it was best to just leave him alone. She turned back to me and once again our eyes met; I quickly glanced to the end of the isle nervously.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the next isle?” I asked as I began to drop my hands towards the wheel rims.

“Not at all!” was her instant reply. “No no…I’ll push you,” she insisted. It was a good chance but I wasn’t going to act so helpless in front of her.

“It’s alright Hilary, I’ve got it,” with that I began pushing the wheels forwards with Hilary by my side. I noticed a green shopping basket swinging in her right hand and I had wondered where it had come from. I thought…then I realised I must have been too indulged in her beauty to have seen it.

For a while we didn’t speak, just enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t long though before I felt the urge to utter a word or two. “What do you see in him?” I asked curiously because as far as I knew, the guy had seemed like a jerk. I hoped she would not take offence or think me too nosey. She glanced at me for a moment, as if considering what in god’s name, did she see in him? I wasn’t going to rush her so I waited patiently as she walked silently beside me thinking. Then she began to say.

“He was a sweet and considerate guy when I first met him. It’s only lately that he seems to have changed,” she replied, her eyes seemed to flood with liquid and I felt anger seething from the pit of my stomach up towards my mouth. It was only through the most difficult and tiring efforts that I managed to subdue the increasing rage filled beast within me and say,

“Never mind, he’s probably got a lot of things on his mind at the moment.” I forced a smile upon my face but knew that I hated anyone who would do this to her. I stretched an arm out towards her, wrapping it round her elbow to comfort her. She smiled at me as a tear rolled off her cheek. “Hey don’t do that,” I said, “It’ll be alright.”

She laughed softly, turning to give me a hug. I was truly happy within that moment, wrapped in her arms and her in mine.

Together we headed into the bakery area, where dough and sugary treats alike awaited selection under scrutinising gazes from those who worried about calories, tooth problems, and general health.

It was me who first gave into the sweet, energy giving, icing topped cake. It was a birthday cake. Fourteen ninety nine in price, and measured from my elbow to the tips of my fingers’ in length and my forearm in width. I spied it from out of the corner of my eye! Just waiting there! Waiting for me!

About to move towards it I found myself darting a glance up at Hilary, who had just knocked me slightly after straightening up from her crouched position. She was looking over the different bread and had finally narrowed it down to Kingsmill. White or brown though? That was the reason for her standing back up. She was frustrated from not knowing.

“Sorry Tyson,” she apologised, “I just can’t decide which one to get.”

The cake was nudged from the forefront of my thoughts into second place. Now my task was to aid Hilary. Scanning the packaging of the Kingsmill loaves, I wondered which of them would be best. There was also the choice of thick, medium and thin slices to make as well, but clearly we would make each choice step by step.

I chuckled to myself. Here I was, gazing over a selection of bread that should have been a simple choice, but now seemed more like a life or death decision. Hilary looked at me curiously. As if she had read my thoughts she started to giggle.

“Look at me, making such a big fuss over a loaf of breath,” she giggled, slightly embarrassed.

It was actually something my mother use to do, so I could see the logical side to it. I didn’t want to tell her that thought. “Hey, it’s an important health choice,” I said sarcastically, still musing at the whole thing.

“So have you any suggestions,” she queried.

Rechecking both the brown and white bread I finally came to the conclusion of white. I just couldn’t deny that the brown bread spoiled my sandwiches with it’s over wheat soaked taste.

“This might be a bit biased based on my preferences, but I think you should buy the white bread,” I suggested. “Also, I think the thick slices would be the best to go with too.”

She looked back at the loaves of bread, clearly considering my answer and from what I gathered, probably weighing it up against her own opinion. I didn’t wait to see which choice she made, instead wheeling my way over to stop alongside the cake shelf. Eyeing it, my mouth began to salivate. My arm moved, reaching for the sweet treat. The gloss packaging felt smooth as my fingers came into contact with it. I took a firm hold and ferried it over to my basket gently, as if holding something more than just cake.

A tingling sensation rose in my arm and I flicked a look in its direction. Painted nails with three stars each. Hilary’s hand rested on my arm, and as I looked up at her at an angle she gave me a wry smile.

“Couldn’t help yourself could you?” she said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk on her face.

“It... It was calling to me,” I said in false defence.

She laughed. “Honestly Tyson, you’ve had a sweet tooth ever since I’ve known you.”

My smile grew larger as a kind of warmth washed over my body. In a good mood, feeling like talking, I began telling her about the Asda employee who had acted as if I couldn’t do anything on my own. “It’s as if they see the wheelchair and think that I automatically need help with everything. Honestly, it’s annoying knowing how bias people are!” I shook my head in annoyance, as if silently tutting in disgust.

Hilary regarded me for a while with a look that I hadn’t seen before. Did she also pity me? But her face didn’t seem to be showing that kind of emotion. So what was it?

“You know, just because someone offers assistance doesn’t mean they think you can’t do something,” she stated. “I hope that’s not what you thought when I offered to push you?”

I failed to respond.

“Tyson come with me for a second.” I followed her. Eventually we came upon the disabled toilets. She clearly wanted to say something to me that she wasn’t prepared to say out in the open.

Had I known that her thoughts differed on the matter I may have revised what I had said, or more likely, how I worded it. Had I offended her by trying to show that I was still the same person? But then why did I even feel like I had to prove I was the same person? Surely Hilary would know! After all, she had known me for a considerable amount of time, and we’d met up a few times since I’d gained my wheelchair.

From my thoughts earlier, I knew I didn’t reject her offer just because I wanted to push myself around. It was because I didn’t want her to think I was helpless. Yet, why had I dispelled a moment of embarrassment by acting upon my helplessness?

“Tyson,” she called in a slight awkward voice after we’d entered the toilet and closed the door. “Maybe it’s you who sees yourself in a negative light now? Taking offense from someone’s good intentions, trying to convince yourself that nothing’s changed...”

It was as if she’d been reading my thoughts and had stumbled upon the conclusion before I had.

“But... The thing is, something has changed. You’re now in a wheelchair...,” I cringed at this and she gave pause for a moment before continuing. “However, being in the wheelchair does not make you any less of a person! It just means you have to go about some things in a different manor to be able to achieve what you want.”

“In fact, before I called out to you, you demonstrated a perfect example of your determination to strive towards the goals you set. You managed to get the tin of beans didn’t you?”

Her smile was so sweet, yet slightly painful for me. She was right however; it was me who felt as if I could no longer match up to my previous self. Not in this wheelchair. Now she was dispelling such thoughts. Her face and voice hid no lies or false information. Only the truth flowed from her mouth!

“I think when something like this happens, the first thing that you need to do is come to grips with it you know? Accept that, yes, you’re in a wheelchair now, but you’re still you. There’s nothing you can do about it, but you can make sure to live life to the fullest still.” Once again she regarded me, but this time with a look I recognised. One of thought. “Hmm... It might not seem credible coming from me because I’m not in your situation, but one day you’ll understand the full extent of what I mean.”

Yet to answer, not sure how I was suppose to respond knowing full well that it had been my outlook on my present situation that had caused me to act in the ways I had, I remained quiet. Hilary bent over and hugged me. As if on impulse, my arms wrapped around her and held her tightly as seemingly on cue, tears began to seep from my eyes and I began to cry.

“You kept it all in didn’t you? Trying to be brave and not let anyone realise just how down you were feeling. But Tyson, being brave doesn’t mean not accepting help or letting people see your emotions... In fact, I’d say allowing others to see your emotions and accepting aid when it’s needed despite pride or whatever else wishes you to deny it, is what brave is.”

We left the toilet together a few minutes later, my tears wiped away and a renewed admiration for Hilary just a few things that had come from the talk. Yes, I was in a wheelchair, but there were plenty of people in a wheelchair who loved life and lived it to the fullest. If they could do it, why couldn’t I?

Cripple? I don’t know the meaning of such a word! Not now!