Here's chapter 7. =)

"I didn't want normal

until I didn't have it anymore."

~Maggie Stiefvater

Chapter 7

Everything slowly became easier as the days went by. Ryan learned to transfer himself from the bed to his chair and back. Also, he could now dress himself and get himself to the bathroom. It was so liberating to have some of his independence back.

Ryan was scheduled to return to his home two weeks after he received his wheelchair. He had been in the hospital for more than four months. Kristen persisted that Ryan stay with her and Geoffrey for a time, while he got back onto his feet (literally and figuratively), but Ryan politely rejected her offer. She continued to insist, and Ryan finally had to nearly yell at her to stop her from talking about it. He felt bad, and he knew she was only trying to help, but Ryan desperately needed to continue regaining his independence. Living with his controlling older sister was obviously not the next step in his recovery.

He had to deal with several guilt-trips, but Kristen finally let up about it. If she had given in without guilt-trips, Ryan would have been concerned for her well-being.

He moved back into his home during a steaming California Tuesday near the end of July. Kristen was at work, but Jenna, Drew, and Wilfred were all present to help him. All he brought from his room at the hospital were several get-well cards from his mother (all with cats and/or kittens looking adorable on the cover). He did not feel the need to keep any other "souvenirs" from that place.

His house was how he remembered, except there had been a ramp installed onto the front porch (Drew's handiwork). Also, a few days before the move, Kristen and Jenna had pulled out the couch mattress and and set up the living to act as his bedroom for the time being. Handlebars had been set up around the toilet, and a shower chair had been installed in the main floor bathroom.

Jenna, Drew, Wilfred, and Ryan were in the living room/bedroom looking over the new arrangements. Wilfred was dozing, stretched out on the couch mattress. Ryan sat in his chair, and Jenna and Drew stood with their arms crossed, not sure what to do next. They were obviously apprehensive to leave Ryan alone by himself.

Ryan nodded again as he observed the job his friends and sister had done for him. "Thanks again for all of your help, guys. You've really made this an easy transition for me."

Drew grinned, and Ryan sensed a terrible nickname about to spill from his mouth. Ryan interrupted before Drew could say a word. "Don't worry about me." He had seen the look of concern on Jenna's face.

"I'm not worried," she lied at first, then smiled shyly and shook her head. "Okay, maybe a little. What if something happens, if you fall? I wish you had let Kristen help you out for a while."

Ryan smiled. "I'll be okay. And as terrible as it sounds, Kristen is the last person I need around me twenty-four-seven right now."

Jenna and Drew nodded in realization, still smiling. "We can understand that."

"But look," Drew placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you ever need anything bro, one of us is usually nearby. Just call our cells."

"Will do." Ryan looked past the couple and watched as Wilfred rolled over in his sleep, grumbled, exposed his balls, twitched, and farted. "Besides, Wilfred will be here to help me out, too."

"Remember that you don't have to watch Wilfy at all. And if you need to get rid of him, just send him home," Jenna said.

"I'll keep that in mind. We shouldn't have any problems though, Wilfred's a good buddy. I'll enjoy his company."

Jenna and Drew, who were closer to Wilfred than Ryan, suddenly started fanning their faces. "Oh, god!"

"Wilfred!" Drew pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. "So sick!"

Ryan laughed. Normally, he would have disapproved of Wilfred farting in his house (let alone in his bed), but finally being able to live in his own house, and getting out of the hospital had him in a cheerful and forgiving state of mind.

A few minutes later, Jenna and Drew had finally left, and Wilfred was awake from his nap.

"What are you waiting for, Ryan? Let's get high!" Wilfred headed toward the small hallway where the basement door was located. Ryan followed and they stopped outside the closed door.

Ryan sighed, "We'll have to move the party to the main floor." He patted the arm of his wheelchair.

"But Ryan!" Wilfred wined. "We always get high in the basement. And it's been so long!"

"You'll be okay, Wilfred."

"But RYAN!" Wilfred ran to the kitchen, and returned with two steak knives.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm not going to let you destroy my good time." He began to run the blades of the knives up and down the painted, solid cherry wood door.

"Wilfred stop!"

The scratching continued. The knives against the door were, of course, leaving scratch marks, and the sound was almost like nails on a chalkboard.

Ryan winced. "Wilfred, STOP!"

"I wanna get highhh . . ."

"We can! Just . . . just stop destroying my door. Unless you want to get sent home to Jenna."

Wilfred halted his scratching, turned towards Ryan and narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't," he said though his teeth.

"Wouldn't I?"

Turning back to the door, Wilfred continued to make more scratches.

"Fine," Ryan wheeled himself to the house phone in the living room and picked it up, pretending to dial Jenna's number. "It's ringing. I'm going to have her come and get you."

"NO!" Wilfred shouted. He tossed the knives, dashed over, and smacked the phone away from Ryan's ear. Ryan amusedly watched it bounce across the hard floor and surprisingly not break or lose its batteries. "Okay, okay." Wilfred took a deep breath and relented. Ryan raised his eyebrows and gestured toward the hall. Wilfred obediently crossed the room and picked up the knives from the floor, returning them to their drawer in the kitchen. While he was occupied with this, Ryan retrieved the phone and put it back on its charger.

Wilfred retrieved his bag of things Jenna had brought over from by the front door. He pulled out their trusty old Gatorade water bong, a baggie, and a lighter. "I suppose . . . if you're going to be such a dick about it, we can just get high in the living room."

Ryan smiled. Strangely, he had missed this constant conflict. "Good."

15 minutes later

The living room was filled with smoke, the delectable bubbling from inside the bong, and the flicking sound of the lighter every couple of minutes. Ryan's head was spinning.

"So I've totally gotten in to Breaking Bad while you've been at the hospital," Wilfred was saying. He passed the bottle to Ryan. "It's probably my favorite Matt Damon role."

Ryan took a long hit then looked quizzically at his furry friend. "Matt Damon? I don't think he's on that show."

"Yes he is."

"No, I don't really watch it, but I think you're wrong."

Wilfred laughed. "I'm not wrong! I know Matt Damon. He plays Todd."

"No," Ryan was giggling, "That's not Matt Damon. It's some other guy. He's like 20 years younger than Damon."

"What? No . . ." Wilfred's smile faltered. "That's impossible. You're fucking with me."

"I'm not fucking with you Wilfred, I promise. It's some other guy." Ryan leaned back on the couch and slowly exhaled. Smoke dispersed into a cloud that slightly resembled a gray dog. He giggled some more. "It's not Matt Damon."

"Well that's –" Wilfred suddenly gasped and looked completely devastated. "That's – oh my god. If it's not Matt Damon that means . . . that means that show blows!"

Ryan burst out laughing and could not stop for a good five minutes, all the while Wilfred stared at him, looking like his world had been stolen from under him.

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