Chapter 6: Shari

(Two days later.) The front desk called: “Sam, you have a visitor.”

Sam greeted Shari with a warm smile and thanked her for coming. “Join me in our elegant dining lounge, please.” They rolled off to the drab cafeteria, where Shari rolled her eyes.

“Elegant dining lounge, huh. So, Vern told me a little about you. I’m sorry for your loss, of course. But please, why am I here?”

“Let me answer you directly, then. Although I hope, later, we can have a more relaxed conversation. I need help and advice, from somebody who knows, how to best navigate my new life on wheels.”

“Because although so much was taken from me, I do have plenty of money.”

“For example, I want to get a van like yours with a ramp, so I can drive myself from place to place. I have reasonable use of my right leg so I can work the brake and gas pedals, and no deficits above the waist, so I can be confident behind the wheel.”

“I want to hire an aide, who can come into my home and help keep things tidy and also help me with my physical therapy and exercise.”

“And I need an advisor, who knows how the disability programs work and will help me deal with the bureaucrats and agencies without losing my mind.”

“Finally, I would like someone to talk to, who can help me understand what it’s really like to be disabled in a world of walkers. And to call the shrink for me when I’m overwhelmed.”

Softly, “Some days I can’t imagine living on without my Lila.”

Sam fell silent, his eyes wet and directed towards a nearby wall, but not seeing. Then he shook his head as if to clear it and looked back at Shari.

“Sam, you want to hire a kind of ‘disability consultant,’ and you thought it could be ME? I don’t know if I am annoyed, confused, interested, sympathetic, or all of the above. Do you know anything about me, other than I’m in this chair? No, you don’t.

“Here’s your first lesson, Sam. I am not this chair. The chair is not me. I am a woman. A woman who uses a chair. Just the same way, you are not your chair. You’re a professor, I hear. You didn’t stop being that just because you got busted up by a truck.

“The English language is really bad about this. I think of myself as a person with a disability, not a disabled person. The distinction is important. You are not a wheelchair. And, also, you’re not a widower, that’s a label, not an identity.

“You’re a man. A grieving, damaged man, but a man, with a life to live.

“You dishonor your wife’s love if you even say, ‘I can’t go on living without her.’

“Never say that in front of me again. NEVER.”

Sam was upset. “Wait, Shari, please! Forgive me, I am not being clear. Yes, Lila would be angry with me.

“But you’re wrong, I DO know something about you, something important. I know Vern, some, and a man who I respect highly knows Vern well and had recommended him to me. And I knew quickly while talking with Vern that he was trustworthy.

“That surprised me. Realtors, after all, are essentially salesmen/women; some of them might as well be hawking used cars.

“So, when he brought up his cousin, he said he would be asking your advice on, what I believe they call, ‘accessibility.’ That told me he values you and your knowledge.

“Lila trusted Bud, he was her boss. So, I trust Bud, Bud trusts Vern, and Vern trusts Shari, so then I trust Shari too. It’s algebra!”

“Algebra?! They let you teach? In College? Our country is doomed. Well, Sam, you clearly need guidance. I guess I will work for you. I would probably do it for free as your new friend, but you offered, you can afford it, and I badly need the money. Do we have a deal?”

“Certainly, thank you, Shari. I need your first and last name for the check.”

“It’s S-H-A-R-I and the last name is E-L-D-E-R.”

Sam wrote out the check and handed it to her. “Let me know when you want more.”

“Wow, thanks. I can come back here tomorrow, same time, so we can meet again in your elegant dining lounge. Just the same, considering what I’m smelling, I’m bringing a bag lunch for safety’s sake.”

Smiling, “And here’s your second lesson: if you tell a woman ‘Let me know when you want more,’ don’t be surprised when she does just that. Quickly.”

Sam watched the back of Shari’s head as she rolled away. “What am I doing? She’s a nut! Kind of pretty, though,” he thought, as he rolled back to his room. He didn’t notice the broad smile across his face.

Likely, it was the first time since the accident that he had smiled.