SIDEKICK

Chapter Two: This Guy

CHAPTER TWO

This Guy

The walk home tires me. The sea breeze comes in, chills me in my wet clothes.

Fantastic.

I enter the house, and wheel through the hallway. My tires squeak against the wood floor from my tires being immersed in chlorinated water for at least ten minutes.

Brilliant.

George is in the kitchen, his head down over the counter. Angelica’s back is facing me, and I’m assuming George is helping her with her homework.

When I enter, his head rises up and looks at me. His look is mildly surprised.

It’s impossible to sneak around in a wheelchair.

“You’re back early,” George says. I ignore him and wheel to my room.

Angelica shrill voice says loudly, “Daddy, why’s there water on the floor?”

I make it to the door.

“JOHN!”

I stop. My hand hovers over the door handle. I don’t know why I wait until I hear George’s thundering footsteps storm towards me.

He grabs my shoulder. I narrow my eyes at the sight of it.

“John, you’re soaked!” his voice is surprised, worried.

No shit George.

“Why are you soaked, John?” he asks. “Did someone do this to you?”

Captain Obvious much? Just stop it George. Stop it.

The door opens, and I wheel into my room, hoping that he’d take the hint. George walks in after me.

Apparently not.

I go take off my wet shirt, but it’s stuck over my head. I fumble with it and then I feel it coming off without me. George tugs it off and I’m free. My pants are next, but he’s already moving to take them off.

I hate this.

“John, if someone is giving you a hard time, you have to tell me,” I think he’s being sincere, until I see that the cash in his pocket from this morning is already gone.

He and his gambling addict.

The last pant leg comes off. George drapes the wet clothes over his arm, and stands up.

“The sprinklers,” I mumble.

“What?”

I look up at him, “The sprinklers in the neighbour’s lawn went off. Got too close to their side of the sidewalk.”

George raises an eyebrow then lowers it. Looks like he’s giving me the benefit of the doubt. He tells me he’ll be back to put me in the bath, and I’m left alone.

Naked and cold.

George comes back a few minutes later. In the next few hours, he bathes me, clothes me and feeds me. He wheels me back into my room around eight, and I get ready to get into bed.

I crawl in, and grab the laptop off the side table. I’m upright as I place it on my dead legs. Facebook automatically logs in for me.

I look up when I see George hovering near the doorway.

“Hey, you’ve got any cash on you?” he’s nervous, his eyes dart side to side.

“Uh, no. Sorry,” I’m direct. I don’t want to contribute to his online poker addiction.