My Sister's Boyfriend

Chapter 2

“Tally ho!” Cory announced, waving one of his crutches in the air.

I shook my head and began to push him in the supermarket’s wheelchair, trolley affixed to the front. Whose bloody stupid idea was this anyway? Oh, yeah, mine.

After breakfast I’d announced I needed a few things from Longton town centre, including visiting the supermarket, and asked if Cory wanted to come along for the ride. He’d been reluctant at first but I’d said I’d welcome the company and it would also get him out.

It had also been my idea to take him into the supermarket, thinking he’d be able to use one of their electric wheelchair buggies I’d seen old or fat people use. However, their one and only electric wheelchair was out of action. Not wanting Cory to have to sit back in the car or wait for me in the store’s restaurant, I’d announced I’d push him in the regular wheelchair. It didn’t take me long to discover I wasn’t as fit as I thought I was because my muscles had started to complain within a couple of aisles.

“I can push,” Cory said, obviously detecting my discomfort. “That’s what these wheel rims are for.”

“No, it’s okay, the exercise will do me good,” I insisted. “Which bacon do you like?”

“The leanest. And unsmoked.”

That was on a higher shelf in the fridge and Cory would have struggled to reach it. I hadn’t realised until that point how much of a challenge shopping must be for a disabled customer.

As we shopped, we attracted a few curious looks. And more than a couple of women not too discretely checked Cory out. Was I jealous they could do that so openly and without fear of consequences? You can bet I was.

Flushed, we finally made it to the beers, wines, and spirits section. I needed to stock up on some more beer. I wasn’t much of a drinker but liked the occasional imported brew, the more exotic the better.

“Any preference?”

Cory shrugged. “I usually just get whatever’s on special offer. Can’t drink while I’m at work and don’t drink that much at home.”

I picked up a couple of possibilities, one Czech, the other German, then I pointed our trolley/chair combo to the checkouts.

“No, I’m paying,” Cory insisted.

“But you’re—”

“Staying with you and eating a lot of your food,” Cory said, pushing his credit card into the reader. I hadn’t thought to take us to the disabled-friendly till, so the reader was a little too high for Cory’s comfort.

“It detaches, love,” the older lady said, removing the device and handing it down to Cory.

“Brilliant, thanks,” he said, treating her to his trademark smile that, judging by her flushed expression, got her blood pumping.

Once the bags of shopping were loaded into the trolley, Cory insisted on pushing himself. Remembering the checkout lady, I said, “Come on, let’s get you back before that lady decides to adopt you or something.”

A shadow passed across Cory’s face.

“What?” I stopped walking beside Cory’s chair, and after moving forward about half a metre he stopped, too. Cory looked down at his lap. “I was taken into care when I was ten because, well, my mum couldn’t look after me anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. And ‘cause I was older, nobody wanted to adopt me.”

“s**t!” I felt horrible. “Cory, I’m sorry.”

Cory shook his head and it was like the sun came out again when he smiled. “Nothing for you to apologise for. I came to terms with it years ago. You’re right, that lady probably did want to mother me.” He laughed. “Maybe it was the chair.”

I tried for a smile but still felt bad, maybe not so much for the adult Cory but the ten-year-old version of him. “The chair?”

“Maybe she felt sorry for me because of this thing.” He patted the wheels.

“Could be.”

We moved a little further towards the exit before Cory said, “Let’s stop for a coffee.” He pointed over to the supermarket’s café that was coming up on our right. “I’m buying.”

“Okay.” I could do with a cuppa and a sit down.

I considered unhitching the trolley from the wheelchair and taking the bags back to the car but Cory pointed out the storage lockers, so I put the trolley in one of them. I followed along behind Cory’s chair, grabbing an empty tray from the stack.

Cory reached for the tray. “I’ll rest it across the arms.”

I shrugged and handed it over. “Mr Independent.”

“Yeah, right.” He pinned me with a look. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be trapped up in my flat, and I haven’t done any shopping, so I’d be hungry, too.”

“I’m sure you’d have managed. What with online shopping, and I bet your neighbours would have helped with whatever you needed.”

“But I came to you, and you helped.”

“You came to Em.”

“And you helped,” Cory repeated. “Now just take the compliment and shut your gob.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay.”

After getting our food, Cory still determined to pay, we found a table, and I pulled away one of the chairs to accommodate his wheelchair.

Once I’d opened my packet of sandwiches, I saw that one of them contained cucumber. I set that sandwich aside.

“What’s up with that one?”

“Can’t stand cucumber,” I told him.

“Swap you for this ham and pickle.”

We made the exchange. As we ate, I couldn’t help mulling over what Cory had said about him having to go into care, his mother unable to look after him and no one wanting to adopt him. Over what Cory had said about his childhood. It had to have been really tough. I couldn’t relate to what he must have gone through. Em and I were close with our parents—well, me more than Em. We also had each other. We also had a home where we felt safe and loved.

“What?” Cory asked.

“I, uh…” I shook my head. “Sorry, I was thinking about things that are none of my business.”

Cory raised a blond eyebrow.

I felt uncomfortable at the continued silence. “I, uh, your mum, why couldn’t she look after you? Sorry, like I said, it’s none of my business.” What made me ask such personal questions?

Cory gave me an understanding smile. “Mum got hooked on drugs. They became more important to her than me.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact way.

“s**t!” I really wished I hadn’t asked.

Cory shrugged. “Yeah, not easy for a ten-year-old boy to come to terms with, but easier for a twenty-nine-year-old man.”

“I suppose.” Although I still couldn’t grasp the enormity of it. “Your dad?”

“Don’t know who he is.” Cory laughed mirthlessly. “But then neither did Mum.”

“s**t” I said again. “Sorry.” Hell, what was with all this repetition?

Cory reached over and touched my hand that was resting on the table. “Thanks for caring.”

“Uh, yeah. I, uh…I don’t know how you coped, I know I wouldn’t have…Sorry, this isn’t about me.”

“Let’s change the subject to something more pleasant.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Do you know when Em will be home?”

I shook my head. “Tomorrow night I would think. She has work on Monday.” Or at least I thought she did. There was every chance she’d either booked the day off or more likely simply wouldn’t show. How she kept her job I had no clue.

“So, it’s just me and you tonight.”

“Uh huh.” Was my face getting warm?

“Wanna go out somewhere or have a quiet night in?”

“Don’t mind.” Both held an appeal. “What would you rather do?”

“As you’re the one who’ll be driving, it’s up to you.”