"Brahms," I try to stay calm, "I don't need the wheelchair. Okay?"
He doesn't say anything but he starts to lock the right side making sure it's stable for me to sit on. I shake my head, "You don't need to push me around the house," he moves to the left side to lock the wheel but it jams itself. He tries to push it down but it won't let him. I realize he's having a hard time,
"Brahms, look, the wheelchair isn't even functioning well. It's outdated. Give it a break."
He's not listening to me and he keeps pushing it down. What is it with him and wheelchairs?
"Brahms." I raise my voice to get his attention, "Brahms!"
He keeps pushing and pushing it downwards to lock the wheel, "Brahms!"
The tire of the wheel pops and his hand slides down in between the wheel and the seat, the steel grazing his arm, as his mask hits the steel of the wheel hard, making a loud sound, making me shriek. I gape at the sight of Brahms kneeling beside the wheelchair. I watch him with wide eyes as he tries to stand up again, his hand touching his forehead- "Oh my God, Brahms are you okay?!"
He doesn't pay attention to me as his hands shakily try to hold his forehead,
Jesus, don't tell me it's bleeding. Please.
I approach him quickly, my hands try to hold onto his to give me a closer look at the mask. I notice a slight crack on the forehead. "Let me look at you-" I demand as I pull his hands down and see a little bit of blood on his ear,
I feel liquid on my hands as well, and when I look down, I see a bleeding scratch on his arm. I look up at him and notice he's looking at me, too. Why isn't he crying? Isn't he supposed to be crying or something? Isn't he in pain?
"You're bleeding," I say, feeling my eyes water. This is my fault. If I just sat on the damn chair, this would not have happened, "I'm so sorry, Brahms," I look at his arm and see it bleeding, "Wait here," I gently pull him to a chair and make him sit.
"Sit down, let me cure you." I say it twice for him to follow me,
I hurry to get the first aid kit from the bathroom and scurry back into the kitchen. He's still sitting there, quiet. Why is he not reacting to this?
I stand right in front of him and notice his hands are shaking. Is he taking this all in?
"I'll cure your arm, alright? I'll just put this-" I show him a container and then a bandaid, "and this. To stop the pain and the blood from coming out, alright? I won't hurt you."
He nods at me, staring right back at me. As I wipe the ointment on his arm, I look up at his eyes. They're watery, too. "Is it painful?"
He nods once, and I try to stop myself from crying but I feel my eyes water. I have no clue why I feel emotional over this-but I know I'm guilty of the pain I caused him. "I'm so sorry, Brahms."
I sniff trying to suck in all the tears and not let it fall as I look down on his arm and wipe the blood off and apply ointment, "The pain will be gone after this, okay?" I say and put a long gauze on his arm and tape it.
My eyes slowly drags itself up to look at him. I sheepishly ask, "Your forehead's bleeding, too, isn't it?"
He nods,
"Well, I need to cure that, too."
He does not say anything, "You have to take off the mask, Brahms."
He jolts up and I know he's going to leave but I grab his other arm. He looks at me and pauses, standing up. "Please don't leave. Don't leave."
I feel my eyes water, "Sit down, please."
And slowly, he returns to his seat, still looking at me. I realize we're sitting inches away from each other. The stool is of the same height, letting us sit closer and of the same height.
The tension. It's still there...and it's growing as of this moment.
"Fine," I say, "You don't have to take it off. You can do this yourself for now...because you're not ready." I put ointment on a big, fluffy cotton, "I want you to apply this on your wound on your forehead after you cleanse it. Do it when I leave the kitchen, okay?" I say softly.
Brahms nods, still looking back at me. I pause, staring at his eyes through the holes of his mask. "But next time," I say, "If this happens again, I need to be the one to do it, okay? I only want to help."
He nods,
"Can you promise me that you'll let me help?"
He nods again,
"Okay. I just really want you to trust me." I say and nod, too. I slowly reach for his hand to give him the cotton without breaking eye contact. "There you go." I get off my seat, "I'll leave you now, okay?"
Before I leave, he calls me suddenly.
"Julie." he says lightly...with his normal voice. I feel a weird, swift feeling in my stomach. I bite my lip and turn to face him, "Please?" he says sweetly as he hands me over the cotton. I look at him in confusion as I slowly approach him.
He slowly reaches for his mask and remove the side where he hit his head. For a second there, I felt my heart beat faster than a millisecond. I realize I'm biting my lower lip hard. I release a sigh when he stops. He's showing me a little part of his forehead, still holding the mask with both hands.
I see.