Cooper Gets The Girl: Part One

Dear Readers,

Here is an old story, in two parts, that I only recently remembered I had tucked away some time ago. I borrowed bits and bobs from it for my other multi-chapter story, Coming Home, though I don't have the time or energy to figure out what. So there may be a few moments that overlap, and for that I am sorry.

I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Cheers,
C&CM

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Cooper flew awake, consciousness hurling him upward from his dreamworld with all the delicacy of a catapult. His diaphragm shuddered with the effort of the breaths it dragged weakly into his lungs, and it took a full minute for the popcorn ceiling six feet above him to come into full focus. But the moment it did, Cooper forced his eyes shut again, blocking out reality in favor of the fantasy he'd been living sixty seconds earlier.

He is back in the shell, the small form of his coxswain, Jake, cajoling from the stern, "Power 10!" They may be Cooper's favorite words in the English language. They mean, "Go; dig deeper than you think you can; you can do anything for ten strokes." And the response from Cooper, and the rest of his crew, is instantaneous. Sinew and skill meet willpower in a surge of pure energy. Pulling at the grips of their blades for all they're worth, Cooper and his teammates sail the final stretch over the imaginary regatta finish line as Jake chortles triumphantly, relaying to them that their training session has been their fastest all week.

Something catches Cooper's eye as he pants from his spot in the long, narrow boat, and he grins as he watches the small shell across the cut. It is a much-smaller boat in comparison to Cooper's: a coxed-four, ferrying a quartet of kids who look to be about eight or so, the age Cooper'd been when he'd started rowing. A "quad," they called that kind of boat...

At the memory of the term, Cooper reopened his eyes with a sigh of frustration. There was nowhere he could escape. Because, for the past three years, since the accident that had nearly cut his spinal cord in half between his C3 and C4 vertebrae and robbed him of almost all of his mobility and independence, the word "quad" had taken on a whole new meaning.

Cooper Gets The Girl: Part Two

"C'mon in, sugar," Rhonda exclaimed as she threw open the door for Meaghan.

"Hi," Meaghan offered with a little wave, and held up the bottle of white she'd brought.

"Omar was supposed to tell you not to bring anything," she chided as she took the wine. Inspecting the label, she laughed. "Though since it's La Crema, I'm glad you didn't listen. Nice taste."

Meaghan followed Rhonda through the spacious living room, adorned with photos of her and Omar and their kids, two girls in high school and a boy who was away at college. Meaghan was privately laughing at a beach shot of the whole family in jeans and white collared shirts--an identical pose hung in her own family's living room--when she looked up and caught a man in a wheelchair staring at her from the threshold of the patio door. She stopped in her tracks as Rhonda nonchalantly made her way toward him. Seeing she couldn't scoot through the doors with him sitting there, Rhonda swatted him on the shoulder and scolded, "Move it, Cooper, you jamming up traffic."

When he didn't move, Rhonda followed his eyes to Meaghan's face.

"You're Cooper," Meaghan breathed, reeling hard mentally and trying desperately not to show it.

Rhonda frowned. "You two don't know each other?"

Cooper just stared. For a brief moment, Meaghan was stricken by wondering whether Cooper, who was obviously severely handicapped, was even capable of speaking aloud. In truth, Meaghan had never talked to him on the phone. Maybe he was like Stephen Hawking?

But then he swallowed hard and asked in a deep, pleasant--though strained--voice, "Meaghan?"

Rhonda interrupted, "Omar told me you two knew each other."

Cooper spoke to Rhonda without taking his eyes off Meaghan. "Only emails..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping to his body, which was strapped at the chest, waist and feet into a large electric wheelchair. Meaghan wasn't sure how he directed it, as it didn't look like he could move his hands. They lay perfectly still on large, molded armrests.

Meaghan felt a surge of pity for him. Not just for his physical condition, but that Omar had apparently ambushed him with her presence tonight. It suddenly made so much sense why he'd stopped emailing her after she'd invited him out rowing. She wished she could make an excuse and leave, and she momentarily considered doing so. But Omar came in at that moment.

"Meaghan," he bellowed. "Stop staring. It's just Cooper." He clapped Cooper on the shoulder, and Meaghan was relieved to see that it didn't seem to hurt Cooper, that he wasn't fragile. "He had a run-in with a semi-truck a couple years back, so now he gets to rock this cool ride." Omar motioned to the large black wheelchair like it was a prize on a game show. "He gets to skip out on dinner chores, too, so he can show you around while me and Rhonda get things set up outside."

Cooper shot him a desperate look, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, Omar grabbed a tight-lipped Rhonda and pulled her out the French doors. As they left, Meaghan heard Rhonda whisper fiercely, "How could you, O?"

And then it was just Cooper and Meaghan in the house. Cooper's mouth twisted to the side in a smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

"So...this is the injury I mentioned."