Plastered - Chapter 1

I sat looking at that stupid wheelchair from across the room, not able to concentrate on the book I was reading.  It was a simple, standard manual wheelchair that folded up into a smaller footprint for easier transport.  The fabric was black along with the leather on the arm rests and the metal frame.  The wheelchair was pretty boring looking, nothing like one of those chairs that you see paralyzed people using all the time, with their sleek lightweight ridged frame and little no back.   It was not really heavy, but it seemed solid, not cheap.  My husband Tom had brought it home a week before and placed it in the corner of the front room, folded up like he was going to store it there for eternity, like it was waiting for a need.  I asked him a couple of times why he got it, but he never responded and either walked away or changed the subject.  I let it sit there for a couple days and then pushed it into the garage, but when Tom came home from work, he simply moved it back without saying anything.  Why does he have it?  Why won’t he let me get rid of it?  What does it mean to him?  These questions seemed to consume the rest of my afternoon as I stared at it from across the room till Tom came home from work.  “What are you looking at” he asked me as he dropped his bag in the chair next to the front door.  “Nothing” I simply responded as I got up from the couch, placed my book on the table and made my way to the kitchen to fix dinner.  “You seem distracted” Tom said as he followed me and approached me from behind, then gently ran his fingers through my long blonde hair as he pushed his body against the back of mine.  “Nothing” I repeated as I pulled some boneless chicken from the freezer and placed it in the microwave to defrost.  Tom then turned toward the wheelchair in the other room as if he knew that I had spent my day wondering why it existed and looked longingly at it, almost in a similar manner as I had for most of the day.  I carefully watched as he ran his fingers gently along the metal frame and then across the arm rest from the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.  “Why” suddenly bust out of my mouth as I turned toward him.  As quickly as the words left my mouth I regretted them and covered my mouth with my hands.

“Why what” Tom asked back as he quickly turned toward me.  I took an awkward swallow while still covering my mouth and decided at that moment I would not let him brush me off like he had before about it.  “Why do you have that” I firmly asked as I lowered my hands and walked closer to Tom with purpose in my steps.  He simply smiled again and started to calmly walk away just as he had done many times before when I had casually inquired about it.  Not this time I thought as I took a hold of his arm and pulled him back toward me.  “Do you really want to know” Tom asked as he turned around to look me in the eyes.  I nodded with confidence, because this time I really wanted to know why that wheelchair was in our lives.  “It’s for you” Tom quickly replied still smiling.  I let go of his arm as this strange feeling rushed all over my body and took a half a step back.  “For me” I questioned as my mind started to run through all kinds of scenarios as to why I would want or need the wheelchair.  “Let’s see if I can explain” Tom said as he took my hand and ushered me to the couch, perhaps taking note of the total panic on my face.  “I guess I’ll just say it and let you ask the questions” Tom continued as I sat down.  “I have a cast fetish” Tom said as he joined me on the couch.  “A cast fetish” I whispered back.  That was the first time I had ever heard of this word that would soon become a favorite past time for both of us.