Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,1

to someone new in a while, but I had to get off. I started to push my chair forward, but he stopped me, stepping in front of me to block my path. I would be lucky if I managed to make it out the door before it closed.

“Can I push you?” His smooth voice was confident. I beamed up at him. People have all these rules about what they can and can’t do if you are in a wheelchair. Okay, so some people probably get all offended if you try to help them. I don’t. I like to do things for myself, but sometimes help is nice. Sometimes just an offer of help is nice.

“Sure,” I said eagerly. Now I could tell the ladies at the library about the hot guy that helped me off the train. They would milk it for hours. They were older, so they got out about as much as I did these days.

He gently pushed me over the threshold and across the platform, hesitating for a minute as we reached the sidewalk. He stepped around the front of the chair, and I placed a hand on each wheel to keep from rolling backward.

“Where are you headed from here?”

I nodded at the building behind him. “I work at the library.”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the old brick building and gave me a dazzling smile. “I love that old place,” he said happily. “I’m glad it’s still being used.”

The building that housed the library had once been the courthouse. It was a pretty structure, with lots of history. I loved the building itself almost as much as I loved being surrounded by books. The man stepped back and gave me a dramatic bow, won him a surprised laugh from me. “Thank you for your help, miss Melody.”

He smiled and headed off down the street, and I waved goodbye. I sat still for a moment, processing what had just happened. By the time I pushed myself into motion, he had disappeared from sight, lost in the small crowd of people rushing by on the street. It was early enough that people were still heading to work in the mad dash to begin their busy day. It was all too fast to me. I felt like they were all hopping about like rabbits, while I moved at the pace of a tortoise.

Nonetheless, when I made my way into the library, I was still smiling. Janice, one of the librarians, greeted me with surprise. “You look great today,” she said, mirroring my smile.

I nodded at the round, grey haired woman. “It’s going to be a good day!” I said cheerfully. One thing I had learned to accept since my brain injury was that sometimes you have good days and sometimes you have bad days. That the bad days were now much worse just made the good days feel that much better by comparison. It made me appreciate the little things- like talking to a new person on the subway, for example.

I put my things away and went to the pile of returned books, inhaling the scent of paper and bindings, and book that suffused the place. I hummed to myself as I carefully sorted the books onto the cart to be re-shelved. I glanced at each title, keeping an eye out for stories I hadn’t read yet. I stroked the bindings lovingly. Books had been my escape for years now. I couldn’t do much adventuring out there in the real world, but through books, I could go anywhere and do anything.

My job at the library was a godsend. It was one of the few places where people didn’t care if I did things slowly. Mrs. Waverly was waiting at the desk when I returned from shelving the books. The elderly woman held a little scrap of paper with tiny bluebirds on it. A book title was scrawled across it in flowery cursive. “Can you help me find this one dear?” She had been coming to this library every Thursday for at least the last few years.

I took the scrap of paper and wheeled out from behind the desk. “Sure thing, Margaret. It should be right over here.” She took her time to browse the nearby shelves and soak in the quiet atmosphere while I wheeled over to the biography section and slowly scanned the catalog numbers on the tidy rows of books. Finally, I saw the title I was looking for. I locked my brakes and unbuckled my seatbelt.