Chapter 3: Bittersweet Sixteen

It was Saturday, March 3^rd when Peter was transported by ambulance to his new home — Clairmont East. Alan and Kat got to ride with him for the trip and the EMTs, who were familiar with him, catered to their adolescent whims by lighting it up during the brief stretch up Hwy 167. Kathy rode up front and squealed with delight as the cars ahead slowed and moved over for them. The total trip took 12 minutes and they arrived at the nursing facility with little fanfare.

Perhaps it was the nature of his handicap that heightened his other senses, because the first impression he got as they held the doors for him to wheel himself in (which he insisted upon), was the overpowering smell of Pine-sol that failed utterly to cover the clinging stench of sweat and urine. The lobby was large, airy, and brightly lit with large windows that filled the room with sunlight. There was a reception desk that merged into an extended nursing station, which stretched down a long white hallway full of doors.

He paused in the middle of the lobby and turned a full circle to examine his surroundings while the transport team collected his belongings and took his medical chart to the front desk. There were several elderly residents seated in the lobby. Some were gathered around a table having tea or coffee and two other gentlemen were working on a jigsaw puzzle at another table. A silver-haired lady in her wheelchair caught his eye when she greeted him with a wide toothless smile and a wave.

“Bobby!” she called out with a high-pitched yell that startled everyone in the area. “Bobby! You came back!”

“Jesus!” Alan whispered beside him as his heart skipped a beat.

“Now Gladys,” said a middle-aged woman wearing a uniform dress and short white coat. She walked over from a corner where she sat with another old man. “You know that isn’t Bobby. Use your indoor voice please.”

Peter lifted his hand to wave back at her wide-eyed before turning back towards the reception desk.

A tall dark dark-haired woman in her fifties appeared from an office door behind the desk and stepped forward. She had a handsome face with smooth skin and was dressed in a business casual manner with slacks, a loose shirt, and a bright red bow around her neck. She took the bundle of records from the EMT and glanced briefly at the cover page before looking over at him with a brilliant smile. “Ah, Mr. Peter Shipley,” she greeted him as she stepped around the counter. “Welcome to Clairmont!” she stepped over wearing low heels that clacked against the linoleum floor. “My name is Denise Richmond and I am the Director here. It is a sincere pleasure to have you joining us.” Her smile was wide and toothy and he felt a phantom pain in his jaw as he accepted her gentle handshake. “You are, by far, going to be our youngest guest here during your stay.” She glanced at his two friends and then the EMTs. “Are either of your parents here?”

He sat back in his chair and grunted dismissively. “Apparently not,” he grumbled. He was still sore after the brief phone conversation he had had with his mom the night before. She hadn’t been to see him in over a week now and he could only speculate that she was out making bad decisions. This was only compounded by an unexpected visit from their pastor, Reverend Demetrius, who came by to pray for him and offer the best wishes from all of the congregation. He brought with him a small bible that still sat in the drawer back at the hospital. He had also expressed his concern for Peter’s mother who had not been attending services recently.

“That is unfortunate,” she pursed her lips. “Well, let me show you around for a moment and then take you to your room.” She turned to indicate the lobby and pointed to several shelves containing books and magazines as well as board games, puzzles, and various knick-knacks. There was a beast of a television in the corner and it was currently tuned to The Price is Right. He was informed that the staff worked two twelve-hour shifts that started at seven am and pm respectively. Meals were served in the dining area located in the back of the building, where a similar open room was located. They followed her down the long white hall and he noticed Nurses, Aides, and housekeepers going about their business, going in and out of rooms. The residents in the hallways all looked at him with mixed expressions — some curious, others disinterested. His room was located in the very back corner of the building, just before the hallway opened into the great dining room. His room number was 67.

“I’ve placed you here to afford you less exposure to the traffic and noise of the main part of our facility,” she explained as she opened the door and stepped inside. He wheeled after her and looked around curiously. The bed occupied the right side with the head against the wall and sticking out to the left. It was further back near the far wall allowing for a set of chairs, a table, and a roomy desk next to it. A large square telephone sat on the desk with a black solid banana receiver cradled on top of it. She told him how to dial an outside line before making calls and both of his friends memorized his phone number with a glance. On the opposite wall was a series of cabinets and a wide door that opened to his bathroom. “Guests may enter through the Dining room entrance but we ask that they all check in and out with the security watch that sits at the desk round the clock.”

The EMTs set his bags and boxes on his bed and desk and then each rendered him a high five before taking their leave. Kat stepped over to the bed and bounced her butt on it several times to test the springs. Alan stuck out his lower lip and nodded agreeably. “This is pretty decent, dude.”

“All we need is a disco ball and some twin-stack amps,” Kat added with a smirk.

Mrs. Richmond ignored them with a frown. “Your school said you will be working to get caught up with your studies so I want to make sure you have every opportunity to succeed,” she stated calmly. Her demeanor appeared to cool a bit as she continued. Peter listened as he wheeled about the room checking everything out. He parked next to the bed, turning to face the woman while Kat flicked an invisible speck off his shoulder. “I expect you will be a responsible guest here and carry yourself in a manner acceptable to your fellow neighbors,” she said firmly. “This means no loud music, limit the number of visitors, and no unseemly conduct.” Her eyebrow twitched as she stared openly at the tall native girl.

Kat leaned forward. “I think she means sex,” she murmured in Peter’s ear loud enough to be heard by everyone. She grinned mischievously as Peter blushed.

There was a pregnant pause as the tall woman bristled, but kept her composure. “Visiting hours are from 9 am to 10 pm every day. The exception is if your family chooses to gather you on the weekend for church services.” She pointed to a panel on the wall near his bed. “The room is equipped with a two-way communication system and a call light if you run into trouble or need anything. There is a similar call feature in the bathroom. Please do not abuse the staff with silly requests or favors that you are capable of handling yourself.” She turned and stepped back over to the door. “I will allow you to make your room up while I get your paperwork sorted out. Good day.” And she was gone with a flourish. The door remained open until Alan got up and closed it.

“Wow, is it me, or did she just morph from Vanna White into Cruella de Ville in under five seconds?” Peter mused. With the help of his friends, it took him a little over three minutes to arrange and stow his things. With a tired sigh, he picked up the telephone and called his home number. It rang several times before it was picked up.

A gruff male voice answered, “Hello.”

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Uh, yeah. Can I speak to my mom, please? This is still the Shipley residence, right?” His tone dripped with angry sarcasm.

“Hey, just what the...” his snarl was cut off.

“Peter, baby, is that you?” Janet cut in abruptly.

“Yeah Mom, it’s me,” he retorted disgustedly.

“Oh ... hi,” she stammered. Her voice seemed tired and her words were slow and garbled. “Well, is everything okay? Are you alright?” Fear began leeching into her tone as she went on. “Did something happen?”

“You might say that. I’ve been moved to the convalescent center.”

“What?” she gasped. “Already? But I thought you weren’t...”

“The doctors told you this before my trip to UW.”

“Oh dear,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. I will come by and visit you this afternoon, okay? Can I bring you anything?”

‘Can you bring my mother back?’ he cursed to himself. “No need Mom, I just wanted you to know where I am and that I’m still alive. You go do ... whatever with your boyfriend. Do you want the phone number here?”

“Honey, that’s not fair!” she sounded hurt by his words. “Paul is just being a good friend and helping me cope with all this ... stuff. If he weren’t around to keep me distracted from...”

“Distracted?” Peter shot back. Allan and Kathy gasped at his tone and stared at each other incredulously. “From what? The fact that you have a son in the hospital recovering from a near-fatal accident? Distraction from going to church? Yeah, Pastor Demetrius came by asking about you. Like I have any idea or reason to know whatever it is you are doing with ... Paul.”

“Peter Elliot Shipley!” She cried over the phone. “Now you listen to me!”

He stabbed his finger down on the white button inside the phone cradle, killing the connection. With a curse, he lowered his head and began tapping the receiver against his forehead.

“Hey, uh, you okay Pete?” Kat whispered behind him. She stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Dude, that was kind of harsh on your part don’t you think?” Alan said. He trembled to consider how it would’ve been if he had ever spoken to his own mother like that.

Peter clenched his jaw angrily. He wanted to snap back at his friend and tell him to mind his own fucking business. But the odd mature specter that seemed to impose itself into his thoughts and memories, caused him to hold his tongue. ‘He’s right. I was a total asshole just then.’ He sighed and looked up, setting the phone receiver on its cradle. “Look, I’m sorry you guys had to hear that. I wish I hadn’t lost my cool just then.”

“Hey, I’m not saying you’re wrong man,” Alan said softly. “It’s just that she is gonna be in control of your entire life for the next two years, ya know?” He reached over and patted his shoulder. “If she is in charge of all that money, you might want to be a little nicer to her.”

“Yeah, assuming ‘Paul’ doesn’t put it all up his nose before I get released from here,” he grumbled.

Janet Shipley finally got around to visiting her son the following day (when she would have otherwise been in church — a few weeks ago). Paul came into the room with her and stared at him sourly while she made a mess of introductions. Peter didn’t even turn to acknowledge him as he sat at his desk working through an essay on Cellular Energetics for AP Microbiology. The small talk trailed off awkwardly and she sat on the edge of his bed looking sorrowfully at him as he worked. She could feel his anger seething inside him.

“Peter,” she asked pleadingly, leaning closer to him and reaching out with tentative fingers to touch his unruly mop of hair. “Baby, look at me, please?” She was near tears when he sighed and set down his pen. He turned to face her more so to turn his back in disgust at the loser leaning against the wall by his door. He reeked of cigarettes.

She smiled tearfully at him and touched his cheek lightly. “Baby, what can I do? I know I have been awful in my absence. But I was happy knowing they were taking such good care of you.” She took a shuddering breath to calm her nerves. “Just tell me what you want and I will do what I can, okay?”

“I want you to start acting like a caring parent, okay?” he said firmly. He sensed the man behind him shift and Janet’s eyes darted up to stare at him over her son’s shoulder. “I want to know that you actually give a crap about how I’m doing!” he snarled. “I’m not asking you to stay here day and night and wipe my nose for me. But Jesus Christ! Could you at least come and visit every couple of days and call once in a while to check up on me?” he nearly yelled. “I mean, Ronnie called me three times last week while I was in the hospital. And even she is wondering what’s going on with you.”

He watched his mom visibly deflate under his harsh words and he cursed himself once more. She sniffed miserably as she nodded in agreement. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Mom,” he replied gently. “I don’t want you to be sad or worried or ... whatever. And if you need to get away and put it behind you once in a while with ... him, great. Just come back, okay?” He took her hand and squeezed it. She felt cold and her skin wasn’t as soft and smooth as he remembered. “I love you, Mom.”

She sniffed again and smiled tearfully at him. “Okay. I will, I promise.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He smelled residual cigarette smoke in her hair. She held his face in her hand and stared deeply into his eyes. “When did you become so grown-up all of a sudden?”

He sat back and snorted. “Probably in that split second, when I saw those bright headlights — right before they nearly killed me.”

“Oh, baby!” she exclaimed harshly and stepped over to embrace him in a tight hug. He missed her smell which was sadly missing today. But he closed his eyes and hugged her back. His younger self wanted to climb into her lap and cry huge tears of self-pity. His older self, restrained him, allowing him to recognize that he was the man of the family now and it was up to him to make things right.

With a firm squeeze, Janet released her son and stood once more, dabbing her eyes as she recovered from the emotional by-play. “Okay then,” she said positively. “First thing Monday, I am going to swing by the school and talk to...”

“Mom,” he interjected.

“ ... what is that Counselor’s name again?”

“Mom!”

“What?” she demanded sounding cross.

“She has the same name as you,” he replied. “Her name is Janet Reed — and I already have all my books and coursework that I need to get caught up.” He gestured at the textbooks and notebooks littering his desk. “I’m making up for my unit 3 lab with this essay on the environmental impacts on enzyme structure and catalysis.”

She stared at the books and his handwritten notes in disbelief before she gaped at him questioningly. “But...”

“Alan and Kat have been coming by with homework assignments and returning my completed work for me,” he informed her triumphantly. “It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry about it. I will still complete 11^th grade well ahead of schedule.”

She drooped her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say, Peter. You are turning into a responsible young man. I’m so proud of you!” She beamed at him and he smiled back.

“That, right there is what I have been missing!” he declared. “Nobody can boost my ego like you Mom!” he grinned at her as she showed a little of her old personality once more. She rolled her eyes at him as she stepped toward the door.

“Alright then, get back to it, and don’t stay up too late,” she told him firmly. “I will be back tomorrow and have lunch with you.”

“Can you bring something for us,” he asked with a tragic face. “It’s going to be liver and onions tomorrow. I’d honestly rather eat my shoe.”

She made a face and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Things were starting to look up, he felt, as he sat in the common dining area enjoying a delicious Big Mac with ‘Two All Beef Patties, Special Sauce, Lettuce, Cheese, Pickles, Onions on a Sesame Seed Bun.’ He hummed the jingle while his mother sat beside him eating her fries one at a time. He was happy to discover that Paul had declined to join them.

“Man! It feels like ages since I’ve had a burger,” he mumbled with his eyes closed. “This is amazing Mom!”

“You’re welcome sweetheart,” she replied demurely. “Now stop talking with your mouth full.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with his mouth full.

Several minutes later they quietly enjoyed their shakes together as the other residents carried on around them.

“Have they come by to begin putting in the wheelchair ramps yet?” he asked her quietly. Not that he was worried about anyone overhearing them.

She set down her drink and wiped her mouth. “A gentleman came by last Friday and took a bunch of pictures around the front porch and inside the living room and kitchen,” she replied. “He said they will be starting work very soon. I think they are going to move the laundry room to make space for your new bedroom downstairs.”

“Did you see the new wheels we’re getting?”

She looked at him quizzically. “I haven’t heard anything about a car. What did you learn?”

“Van actually,” he replied. “Scott came by last week and told me how it’s playing out with the settlement. He said he was going to stop by and talk to you.”

Her expression became vacant for a moment as she considered. “He may have. We were ... away for a few days last week.”

He frowned at the response but shrugged it off, wanting to avoid another fight. “Well, you should be hearing something soon. You are going to be getting a brand new 1990 Ford Aerostar that has a side door that can pop out and extend a lift platform for my wheelchair.”

“Really?” she said with surprised delight. “That will be very nice indeed. That old Buick is starting to take a lot of maintenance.”

“Don’t sell it!” he blurted over his straw. She glanced back at him in surprise. “I may need it someday...” he finished sheepishly. “When I can drive.”

She gaped at him like he had grown a third eyeball.

“What? I plan on walking again someday! They make prosthetic feet and cars that can be controlled by hand controls...” he added defensively. He felt hurt by her lack of faith in him.

“Maybe someday dear,” she smiled suddenly. “I believe you will do that and more with your talents.”

“You are also going to get a fat check for two hundred grand soon as well,” he added with a grin.

Her eyes got wide when she heard that. “What?” she gasped. “When did you hear that?”

“Same time he told me about the car,” he replied. “That’s why he wants to see you. He needs the banking information for the wire transfer of funds.”

“Is that all we’re getting?” she asked, suddenly disappointed. “I thought it would be more.”

He grimaced uneasily and then shrugged disinterestedly. “I guess there is a lot more but the court wants it put into some sort of trust for the future,” he lied smoothly. “For any future medical expenses, my college fund, insurance, yada yada.” He took another tenuous sip of his milkshake. “There is some court-appointed accountant guy who will manage it for us.”

“Well, I will have to contact Mr. Bales when I get home,” she replied.

“He said he was going to come by here tomorrow after work to check out my new pad,” Peter said. “You can meet him then.”

She thought about it and nodded her head. “I can do that.”

The following day was full of surprises. With Spring break around the corner, Kat and Alan decided to skip out early and come by to hang out with him as he worked through his last hour of rehabilitation. The occupational therapist showed him how to fold and stow his clothes and helped him to stand and slowly ambulate on his shortened stubby legs. He had never appreciated how useful feet were until he tried to walk without them. It was a disaster from the start and he fell over constantly. But he was a good sport about the whole thing and laughed easily as he got himself back up and tried again. Kat and Alan walked in on him just as he toppled over on his side again with a cry of “Timber!” and a laugh. The therapist giggled and went to help him but he insisted on trying to impress his friends with his newfound ability to climb up into his wheelchair unassisted.

“Wow, Sonny!” Kat called as they stood and watched. “You are getting the hang of them new legs!”

“Who is Sonny?” they heard and turned to find Scott Bales standing behind them holding a large heavy box that was gift-wrapped. They made way for him as Peter seated himself comfortably.

“Hey Scott!” he greeted breathlessly as he spun his chair around to face them all. The therapist patted his shoulder and took her leave. “What’s with the box?”

The attorney grunted as he walked over and set it on his desk. “It’s your birthday present! A little token from my family to you.”

“Um. My birthday isn’t for another week, though.”

“Oh,” the red-haired man looked disconcerted. “Well, I guess you will have to wait to open it then.” His eyes glinted with mischief.

“Oh Hell, no!” Peter growled. “Watch your feet, I’m coming thru!” He rolled himself recklessly forward causing the three to step back to avoid getting their toes run over. He grabbed the box and frowned at the heaviness. “Is this my settlement in gold bars?”

The lawyer chuckled. “Something like that,” he replied. “Who is Sonny again?”

Kat pointed to the boy’s back. “He is.” She replied dreamily. “You know ... Sonny and Cher?”

“Ah,” Scott nodded sagely as Peter turned the box about looking for the edge of the wrapping paper. “So, which one of you is Cher?” he quipped jokingly.

Alan gagged. “Eww, not me dude! I wouldn’t kiss him with your lips!” he groused causing everyone to laugh.

“Dang, how did you wrap this, man?” Peter grumbled as he tried to look over the top.

“Here,” Kathy said leaning forward. “Let me help.” She pulled the card off the top and held it for him.

He took it and opened the envelope. He read to card aloud, “To Peter — I see great things ahead for you. Don’t disappoint me.” He glanced up at the attorney who nodded at him encouragingly.

Suddenly his eyes widened and he turned back to stare at the box like it was the Holy Grail. “No Way!” he gasped.

“What?” Kathy and Alan asked simultaneously as he suddenly attacked the container, shredding the paper and throwing it aside. He found the tape holding the box together and picked at it desperately with his short nails. He heard a click and looked back as Scott handed him a small pocket knife. He grunted his appreciation and began carefully slitting the seams of the cardboard container.

A moment later the three of them cried out in shock as the contents were exposed. It was an off-white NEC Computer with a built-in 5 ¼” floppy drive and stacking monitor that rested on top of the CPU, the keyboard was attached to the front of the CPU and could fold up when not in use. Peter sat back and stared at the beautiful machine in disbelief while his Asian friend oohed and aahed over it. Kathy was jumping up and down clapping her hands excitedly before she spontaneously grabbed the man in a hug.

The celebration quickly devolved into adolescent chaos as they began tripping over each other trying to set it up.

“Power!” Alan cried out excitedly like an expecting father in a birthing center. “We need power..., two plugs!” he dropped to the floor and crawled under the desk. “Oh, thank God! There are two right here!”

“Don’t destroy the box, you idiot!” Kathy lamented as Peter tried to remove the components. “You are gonna have to take it home in something, someday.” She shoved him aside and carefully lifted out the monitor, CPU, and power supply cables, taking the box away to clear off the desk. There was a large clear sleeve full of manuals and disks that Alan took custody of and began poring over as he sat on the floor.

Finally, Peter gave up trying to be involved in its assembly and rolled back to give the other two room to work. “Oh my God Scott ... Mr. Bales, I don’t know what to say. This is just so awesome!” he breathed.

Scott stood aside watching the two friends working excitedly with a proud smile. “Peter, I can’t think of anyone more deserving of it than you,” he replied. “After what you have been through...”

“Dude!” Alan cried out holding up a telephone cord. “It has an internal modem!”

“My mom is gonna have a fit when she sees this,” he replied with a troubled expression.

“Why? It’s a birthday present, what’s wrong with that?” he asked.

Peter snorted. “A $1,500 birthday present,” he said. “She doesn’t need to know that though.” He shook himself as the opportunities began flashing through his head. “I told her the rest of the settlement money was to be put aside into some sort of trust for the future,” he murmured out of earshot of the other two.

Scott nodded. “For your education, ongoing care, and eventual prosthetics, one day,” he agreed. “I’ll talk to her about it.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder. “You talk to her about the computer.”

Peter grinned. “Deal.”

In a short time, Alan switched it on and they all watched as the machine whirred to life and began displaying its Bios information on the screen. When it booted to its base state, he typed in a command to pull up the directory tree. “It’s got one MB RAM and I think we can upgrade it to four, he said as he programmed the date and time onto the motherboard. “I need to install the operating system from the floppies,” he said to no one in particular, “may take a bit.”

Kathy sat back on the bed and crossed her bare feet beneath her as she watched him work. 16-year-old Peter would’ve insisted on having the honors since it was ‘his’ computer. But he felt content to let his friend have his fun and feel like he was helping out.

Scott decided to hang out and watch them as they loaded the Windows program and then started exploring everything included with the system. Alan disconnected the telephone from the wall and plugged in the modem before using the dial-up service to log into a particular bulletin board service. He began tagging several shareware programs under Peter’s guidance, loading them into a queue for downloading onto the ‘massive’ 120MB hard drive. Soon he had a free word processor, a popular C++ editor, a database, and several games saved to it. Once they were comfortable with the operating system and online file sharing, Alan switched it from Windows to DOS and began creating file folders which he named sequentially, and began copying the disks containing all of the code for their two games. Once he completed it, he ‘allowed’ Peter to take over and ‘build’ each game from the executables. Soon he got to finally see firsthand how each program executed and looked on his 12-inch color monitor.

The attorney shook his head as they began speaking about things in a language, he knew nothing about. Even more impressive was his young client’s ability to jump from one screen where the slot machine rolled and beeped, to a half screen full of computer code. He would enter a string of text or bracket something and they would all watch the game screen for some change that his eyes didn’t catch. There were two thick notebooks on the desk that they often referred to and he saw that each page was full of handwritten computer codes, often squiggled out and rewritten in a margin. Time seemed to suspend for them as they sat together and chatted while Peter worked the keyboard and debated items that only interested them.

“What in Heaven’s name is that?” a sharp voice said, breaking through to their awareness and snapping them back into the present world.

Janet Shipley stood in the doorway of his room wearing a sour frown as she recognized the computer. She was certain that society was sliding back into the dark ages as the children of today occupied themselves with such silly pursuits. They were rotting their already stagnant minds with games and programs when they should be outside getting fresh air and talking to actual friends and neighbors. It never even dawned on her that she used to use a computer for data entry and scheduling when she worked for their family dentist.

“Oh, uh, hey Mom!” Peter said sheepishly as he shut down the monitor and turned around to face her. Kathy retreated to the bed where she once more crossed her legs and Alan slinked back against the corner with his chair.

“Where did you get that?” she demanded pointedly.

He gulped nervously. “It was a present,” he said indicating the wrapping paper. “From Scott’s family.”

She turned and regarded the man questioningly.

He smiled back at her with a nod. “Indeed, it was ma’am. A mere gesture of our appreciation and goodwill towards you and your boy,” he stated as he moved to offer his hand.

She took it but looked irritated. Peter suspected she felt that they had gone behind her back to arrange for the present. ‘If she only knew,’ he mused.

“Well, I suppose it’s all right, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your school and responsibilities,” she simmered.

“Mom, it will help me with school,” he replied. “Look, it already has a word processor so I can turn in typed essays now ... once I have a printer that is. In the meantime, Kat or Al can take my work to school on one of these,” he held up a floppy disk, “and print it up there for me.” He looked at her face to gauge her receptiveness. “You think they will accept handwritten essays in college?” He got through with that one as she grudgingly accepted his argument. “And when you talk about programming...” he grabbed one of the thick binders and showed her all of the handwritten C++ code. “Not very useful on paper, is it? But how do you think this looks,” he turned to click the monitor back on and expanded the half-screen of continuously scrolling code, to the full screen.