The 18th Floor

Chapter Twenty Two

We finish working at 2pm, Lucien insisting that everyone goes and gets ready for tonight. I decide to take a quick shower before I start to get ready. Our home is built specially for wheelchair users, so other than the wider than normal doorframes, our bathroom is double in size. I have handle bars all around to help me transfer on the toilet and a different, more basic chair to use in the shower. It's like a normal shower unit with no rise on the floor to get the chair in and out. The whole bathroom is tiled and then a singular glass wall dividing the area of the shower and the rest of the room. Despite the military feel the bathroom almost gives off, I can't complain when the council has a housing crisis and we had been re-homed really quickly.

I spent a lot of time after decorating it, and the rest of the house to feel as much as a home as possible. The accident was one thing to deal with, but the fact that we had to move out my childhood home, a house I lived in for 19 years because I could no longer go upstairs, made me grieve all over again. A stair lift was an option my dad considered but the rest of the house was too narrow, too cramped, that I wouldn't have been able to navigate as freely as I do now.

I was still in hospital when dad started moving some of our items over. In addition to having to worry about me, he had to deal with the housing problem. I almost didn't get to say goodbye to our old house, but somehow in the haze of those initial months, we made it down one day, with a doctor's approved leave. They thought it might help me in those initial stages, I think it just made me worse. I don't regret visiting our old house, but having my room packed up and shipped somewhere else whilst I was still in hospital, dissociating with the world is a feeling I can't explain.

We're meeting at 5, after my shower I have a quick lunch and get started on my hair and makeup. Nothing too dramatic, but I put on a little more than I would normally hoping it would last and curl my hair. Different from my usual tied back bun.

I put on my outfit and all traces of second thoughts I had last night leave my head. I've accepted what I see when I look in the mirror, not all days are good, but I know what looks at me back. But, looking at myself today, I can't help but feel good. The heavy baggage under my eyes has decreased and I find myself smiling more. The girl staring back at me in the mirror is someone I'm beginning to like more and more every day. I feel pretty, I look pretty. I feel confident enough to take a few photos.

I take one last look at myself and put on my jacket, ready to leave the house before anything like anxiety can grip me by the throat.

The address for the first place is a bar, drinks to warm up, as Lucien suggested. As I go in, I can already see Abbi and Simon at a table reserved for us. There is already a whole tray of cocktails waiting.

I greet them both and take a space next to Abbi after she pulls away the chair next to her. She's wearing a black cocktail dress with a few layered necklaces, nothing overly fancy but Abbi has a natural level of beauty that most women her age have to get cosmetically done to achieve.

"Well, aren't you two girls looking beautiful tonight", Simon says to us. We both laugh and thank him, despite the small blush creeping up my neck. Simons in a pair of work trousers and a white shirt which he has under the most hideous Christmas jumper I've ever seen in my life.

"How long did you search to find that?", I ask him laughing at the sight of it.

"It gets better", he says as he pushes down on his chest and it starts to sing and light up. I can't help but burst out laughing.