Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 08/28/2022
Quayside Conversations
Born 1980, M, from Exeter, United KingdomIt was Saturday afternoon and the roads in and around the town of Sandhoock were packed with queuing cars. Some honked their horns impatiently while others waited with windows open and radios at full volume. On the pavement pedestrians pushed past each other to get a better look in shop windows or trying to grab a bargain. Nobody noticed me as I weaved my electric wheelchair from side to side avoiding teenagers, mothers with prams and family groups. I was on my way to the quay to enjoy the day. My helper, Jo, walked alongside me and we talked cheerfully. Everything seemed better on a sunny day. Eventually arriving at our destination, I pulled up in the shade alongside a bench which was unoccupied. Jo took a seat and we enjoyed the peace. I watched the sun sparkling on the river as a swan tried unsuccessfully to fly, beating its wings frantically on the surface of the water, making a slapping sound. After a while it gave up. Whether this was because of boredom, tiredness or performance anxiety, I couldn't be certain. The spectacle had drawn quite a crowd. Better luck next time my feathered friend, I thought. I looked around me and saw people sitting in cafes, ordering cold drinks to stave off the heat of the day. Dogs wagged their tails happily as owners threw sticks or balls for them to fetch. Occasionally, the dogs jumped high and caught them in mid air. Sometimes the balls would end up in the water, which upset the owners who called their names and ran after them in a futile attempt to prevent them from getting too wet. This often was unsuccessful and their red faced owners had to drag them soaking from the water. I smiled to myself.
Soon, a group of teenagers sat on the bench next to ours. Laughing and joking amongst themselves while scrolling at their phones preferring the artificial scenery on their screen to the natural one around them. I recognised the group as one I had almost collided with earlier. “You had a lucky escape, this chair is heavy! Never mind, I will get you next time!” I chuckled. They did not even look up. I was ignored and turned my attention back to the river just as a red kayak glided, silently, past. As it went, I wondered whether the sole occupant, an elderly woman, was really out for a leisurely paddle or whether she was running away from something. I created a story in which, after robbing billions from a bank, she was escaping but a police boat would arrive and ask her to pull over. Then she would be led away in handcuffs, watched by curious onlookers. Poor woman, can’t the public give her privacy, especially on the worst day of her life.
A hand on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts. It was Jo. Her long blonde hair usually tied up in a ponytail was loose, her blue eyes twinkled mischievously: “It's so hot, I'm going to get an ice cream. My diet can wait,” she announced while rummaging in her shoulder bag and eventually retrieving a light brown purse. “Would you like one?” “Yes, please. I think it's the law on such a beautiful day.” She smiled: “Shall we take a look at the flavours?” My hand reached for my joystick and we moved towards the café behind us. Their menu was secured to the outside wall. The font was too small for me to read without a magnifying glass, so I asked Jo if she would not mind reading it to me. “Of course,” she replied. Most of the flavours were the usual: chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. However, there were more exotic ones: pina colada, sticky toffee pudding, bubble gum and strawberry laces. “Choose your ice cream,” said Jo dramatically. “I will try the sticky toffee pudding, please,” My hand went towards the blue bum bag that was around my waist. “I suppose you need money.” “No, my treat!” she replied. “Thank you Jo.” “You are welcome,” she said cheerfully. “I will guard our seats with my life,” I said. She turned and went inside to order. I headed back to the bench and waited for her to return.
I first met Jo Riley when my parents and I were invited to a BBQ at our family friends’ house. Jo, their daughter, was home from university for the holidays. She studied health and social care. We became instant friends, bonding over our love of music, film and books. That summer Jo was looking for a job. My mum suggested that she could employ her as my personal assistant. My care agency was short of staff and it would give her experience and reference for her future. Jo was enthusiastic about the idea and it was agreed that we would employ her on a trial basis. That was two years ago and every holiday since she has worked with me. A long lasting friendship has blossomed.
I was brought back to the present when I saw Jo coming with our ice creams. “Sticky toffee pudding for you and bubble gum for me!” she said, retaking her seat. “Yours looks much nicer than mine,” I complained. “Chris, have you got ice cream envy?” She teased me. “Yes I do! How is sticky toffee pudding even a flavour?” I chuckled. She put her finger to her lips: “Shh, enough talking let's eat.” Jo assisted me with the ice cream which, to my surprise, was delicious! I looked at the teenagers who had stopped scrolling on their phones and were taking selfies. However, one of the girls wasn’t joining in. She remained seated listening to music. Eventually the group left without saying goodbye to her. I thought out loud: “That was rude.” Feeling brave I asked: “What are you listening to?” She looked at me with a blank stare. Her green eyes showed indifference. She pulled her hood up, creating a barrier between us. Jo cleared her throat, turned to me and said: “Time to go Chris”. On the walk back, Jo remarked: “That girl was as rude as her friends.” “I know, they deserved each other. Just forget about it.” We head to my medium size apartment in town, chatting about our next adventure.
We visited the quay several more times that summer enjoying cold drinks or looking in the various independent shops which traded there. We often saw the teen, who continued to ignore us. Then one day, while we were sitting on a bench enjoying the view, Jo was asked a question: “Are you his carer?” Jo looked up and smiled sweetly at the girl who stood in front of us blocking the view. “No, we are friends.” We both thought this would be the end of her enquiries but, to our surprise, she continued addressing Jo and ignoring me. “What do you do for him?” “We do lots of things together,” I replied. This clearly unnerved the teen who looked to the group for support but just like on our first meeting they had left her alone. ''What is your name?” I asked. “Samantha,” she said warily. “It’s very nice to meet you Samantha, I’m Chris and this is Jo. How are you?” She replied in a raised, slow voice: “I am fine.” “Woah, woah! We are close to you, there’s no need to shout,” said Jo. Samantha lowered her voice: “Oh, but my friend says all disabled people are difficult to understand and hard of hearing,” I took a deep breath and responded: “How many disabled people has your friend met?” The girl considered the question: “Well, none but he has read about them on the internet and he would not lie to me. He is very intelligent.” “Well, I am afraid he has misinformed you. Disabled people are not all the same. We have different levels of abilities, some can't talk and others, like me, talk too much.” She looked embarrassed and said: “Sorry you’re the first disabled person I’ve met. I hope I didn’t upset you.” “Not at all, you didn’t know.”
“Do you ever think about it?” asked Samantha. “Think about what?” I replied. “Oh you know, being disabled,” “No, do you?” “What do you mean?” “Do you ever think about being able bodied?” “No, of course not,” she replied indignantly. I smiled and added: “Exactly, my disability is just part of me. I was born this way.” Samantha sat down, clearly intrigued by my statement. “How did you end up in a wheelchair?” she enquired. “I was ready for the world, but the world wasn’t ready for me. I was born sixteen weeks premature, when I came out I weighed as much as a small bag of sugar and could fit in the palm of my dad’s hand. Because the hospital didn’t have the correct equipment ready, I was starved of oxygen for a time and have a condition called Cerebral Palsy, or CP and so I have become the well balanced individual you see before you. A bit too well balanced, I have six wheels.” Jo busted out laughing. Samantha stayed silent. “You are allowed to laugh,” I said while giggling. “Not if it’s a bad joke, Chris!” teased Jo.
Samantha continued: “Do you live together?” “Over the holidays we do, but the rest of the year I live with carers employed by an agency. They assist me twenty-four hours a day.” “Even at night?” she exclaimed. “Yes, but luckily for them I have no problem sleeping. But they are there, just in case I need assistance. However, I do not like thinking of them in their professional role, but as flatmates or friends who help me out. It sounds less clinical.” “Doesn’t that get you down?” asked Samantha, continuing: “For me, I could barely live with my sister. I can not wait for the day she moves out.” “It can be frustrating,” I admitted, “But most of the people are lovely.” Samantha replied: “I really like your attitude. You seem just like a normal guy. It must be frustrating though.” “What do you mean?” I asked frowning. “Well,” she said looking down at her feet, “Not being able to do the same things as normal people.” “Define normal.” When she looked alarmed I added: “Just kidding, relax. I choose to focus on the things I can do and not worry about the ones I can’t. Sometimes I need a little extra help and time. But with perseverance I achieve my objective. If I can’t, that's where my flatmates and friends come in handy. I don't see my disability as a barrier, I can do anything I put my mind to. Where there's a will there’s a way, or a wheel in my case,” I answered with a smile on my face whilst Jo was shocked with laughter.
Samantha replied, in between giggles: “You seem such a positive person Chris, I wish I was more like you. Is there anything that irritates you?” “Yes, when people patronise me. When strangers do it, it doesn’t bother me but if it occurs with people who should know better it really annoys me.” She looked puzzled. I elaborated: “When people talk over me, about me and down to me.” Samantha responded: “I understand,” she then walked over to me and gave me a hug. “You’ve taught me so much, thank you.” “You see, I am the same as you, just lazier, sitting around all day.” Samantha and Jo laughed loudly. I was so pleased, I managed to make Samantha feel comfortable. She was so shy and seemed sad when we first met. Jo touched me on the arm and said: “Sorry to interrupt this super intense bonding moment but we need to go.” “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, my so-called friends act like I'm invisible most of time,” said Samantha. “I know the feeling,” I replied, “Some people only see my chair.” We said our goodbyes and parted ways.
A few days later we saw Samantha again. She was transformed, rather than blanking us she called our names, came over and hugged us. The barrier that was present during our initial meeting had been broken. She introduced us to the group who all had the same reaction as her when we first met. We walked over to our usual bench and spent our time laughing and joking between the three of us. Jo said: “I’m really going to miss our time together Chris.” “I will miss you too, keep in touch or I will hunt you down.” “Of course!” Jo laughed.
The seasons pass. It is the start of a new summer, bringing with it a new chapter in my life. Jo has moved on, she is now a nurse working long hours at the local hospital. Although I have had to say goodbye many times to housemates it never gets any easier, but Jo has kept her promise: we are still in touch. My parents have placed an advertisement in the local newspaper and online for a new personal assistant. After days of interviewing and family discussions, the final choice is left up to me. Today, I am in my room waiting for them to arrive. I hear the doorbell, then my mum's voice: “Please come in, Chris is in his room.” “Thank you,” the visitor responds and a few minutes later I hear light footsteps coming down the corridor. “Hi Chris!” I turn and see Samantha standing in the doorway. She wears a white strappy dress with a delicate floral pattern on it, white socks and black boots. Her auburn hair has been cut short. “Hey Sam nice to see you, that is a lovely dress. ''Thank you, it's new,” she says with a curtsy, entering my room. She sits on the bed with her legs crossed. After a brief catch up she suggests: “It’s such a lovely day, shall we go to the Quay?” “What a great idea!” I reply.
Quayside Conversations(Christopher Long)
It was Saturday afternoon and the roads in and around the town of Sandhoock were packed with queuing cars. Some honked their horns impatiently while others waited with windows open and radios at full volume. On the pavement pedestrians pushed past each other to get a better look in shop windows or trying to grab a bargain. Nobody noticed me as I weaved my electric wheelchair from side to side avoiding teenagers, mothers with prams and family groups. I was on my way to the quay to enjoy the day. My helper, Jo, walked alongside me and we talked cheerfully. Everything seemed better on a sunny day. Eventually arriving at our destination, I pulled up in the shade alongside a bench which was unoccupied. Jo took a seat and we enjoyed the peace. I watched the sun sparkling on the river as a swan tried unsuccessfully to fly, beating its wings frantically on the surface of the water, making a slapping sound. After a while it gave up. Whether this was because of boredom, tiredness or performance anxiety, I couldn't be certain. The spectacle had drawn quite a crowd. Better luck next time my feathered friend, I thought. I looked around me and saw people sitting in cafes, ordering cold drinks to stave off the heat of the day. Dogs wagged their tails happily as owners threw sticks or balls for them to fetch. Occasionally, the dogs jumped high and caught them in mid air. Sometimes the balls would end up in the water, which upset the owners who called their names and ran after them in a futile attempt to prevent them from getting too wet. This often was unsuccessful and their red faced owners had to drag them soaking from the water. I smiled to myself.
Soon, a group of teenagers sat on the bench next to ours. Laughing and joking amongst themselves while scrolling at their phones preferring the artificial scenery on their screen to the natural one around them. I recognised the group as one I had almost collided with earlier. “You had a lucky escape, this chair is heavy! Never mind, I will get you next time!” I chuckled. They did not even look up. I was ignored and turned my attention back to the river just as a red kayak glided, silently, past. As it went, I wondered whether the sole occupant, an elderly woman, was really out for a leisurely paddle or whether she was running away from something. I created a story in which, after robbing billions from a bank, she was escaping but a police boat would arrive and ask her to pull over. Then she would be led away in handcuffs, watched by curious onlookers. Poor woman, can’t the public give her privacy, especially on the worst day of her life.
A hand on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts. It was Jo. Her long blonde hair usually tied up in a ponytail was loose, her blue eyes twinkled mischievously: “It's so hot, I'm going to get an ice cream. My diet can wait,” she announced while rummaging in her shoulder bag and eventually retrieving a light brown purse. “Would you like one?” “Yes, please. I think it's the law on such a beautiful day.” She smiled: “Shall we take a look at the flavours?” My hand reached for my joystick and we moved towards the café behind us. Their menu was secured to the outside wall. The font was too small for me to read without a magnifying glass, so I asked Jo if she would not mind reading it to me. “Of course,” she replied. Most of the flavours were the usual: chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. However, there were more exotic ones: pina colada, sticky toffee pudding, bubble gum and strawberry laces. “Choose your ice cream,” said Jo dramatically. “I will try the sticky toffee pudding, please,” My hand went towards the blue bum bag that was around my waist. “I suppose you need money.” “No, my treat!” she replied. “Thank you Jo.” “You are welcome,” she said cheerfully. “I will guard our seats with my life,” I said. She turned and went inside to order. I headed back to the bench and waited for her to return.
I first met Jo Riley when my parents and I were invited to a BBQ at our family friends’ house. Jo, their daughter, was home from university for the holidays. She studied health and social care. We became instant friends, bonding over our love of music, film and books. That summer Jo was looking for a job. My mum suggested that she could employ her as my personal assistant. My care agency was short of staff and it would give her experience and reference for her future. Jo was enthusiastic about the idea and it was agreed that we would employ her on a trial basis. That was two years ago and every holiday since she has worked with me. A long lasting friendship has blossomed.
I was brought back to the present when I saw Jo coming with our ice creams. “Sticky toffee pudding for you and bubble gum for me!” she said, retaking her seat. “Yours looks much nicer than mine,” I complained. “Chris, have you got ice cream envy?” She teased me. “Yes I do! How is sticky toffee pudding even a flavour?” I chuckled. She put her finger to her lips: “Shh, enough talking let's eat.” Jo assisted me with the ice cream which, to my surprise, was delicious! I looked at the teenagers who had stopped scrolling on their phones and were taking selfies. However, one of the girls wasn’t joining in. She remained seated listening to music. Eventually the group left without saying goodbye to her. I thought out loud: “That was rude.” Feeling brave I asked: “What are you listening to?” She looked at me with a blank stare. Her green eyes showed indifference. She pulled her hood up, creating a barrier between us. Jo cleared her throat, turned to me and said: “Time to go Chris”. On the walk back, Jo remarked: “That girl was as rude as her friends.” “I know, they deserved each other. Just forget about it.” We head to my medium size apartment in town, chatting about our next adventure.
We visited the quay several more times that summer enjoying cold drinks or looking in the various independent shops which traded there. We often saw the teen, who continued to ignore us. Then one day, while we were sitting on a bench enjoying the view, Jo was asked a question: “Are you his carer?” Jo looked up and smiled sweetly at the girl who stood in front of us blocking the view. “No, we are friends.” We both thought this would be the end of her enquiries but, to our surprise, she continued addressing Jo and ignoring me. “What do you do for him?” “We do lots of things together,” I replied. This clearly unnerved the teen who looked to the group for support but just like on our first meeting they had left her alone. ''What is your name?” I asked. “Samantha,” she said warily. “It’s very nice to meet you Samantha, I’m Chris and this is Jo. How are you?” She replied in a raised, slow voice: “I am fine.” “Woah, woah! We are close to you, there’s no need to shout,” said Jo. Samantha lowered her voice: “Oh, but my friend says all disabled people are difficult to understand and hard of hearing,” I took a deep breath and responded: “How many disabled people has your friend met?” The girl considered the question: “Well, none but he has read about them on the internet and he would not lie to me. He is very intelligent.” “Well, I am afraid he has misinformed you. Disabled people are not all the same. We have different levels of abilities, some can't talk and others, like me, talk too much.” She looked embarrassed and said: “Sorry you’re the first disabled person I’ve met. I hope I didn’t upset you.” “Not at all, you didn’t know.”
“Do you ever think about it?” asked Samantha. “Think about what?” I replied. “Oh you know, being disabled,” “No, do you?” “What do you mean?” “Do you ever think about being able bodied?” “No, of course not,” she replied indignantly. I smiled and added: “Exactly, my disability is just part of me. I was born this way.” Samantha sat down, clearly intrigued by my statement. “How did you end up in a wheelchair?” she enquired. “I was ready for the world, but the world wasn’t ready for me. I was born sixteen weeks premature, when I came out I weighed as much as a small bag of sugar and could fit in the palm of my dad’s hand. Because the hospital didn’t have the correct equipment ready, I was starved of oxygen for a time and have a condition called Cerebral Palsy, or CP and so I have become the well balanced individual you see before you. A bit too well balanced, I have six wheels.” Jo busted out laughing. Samantha stayed silent. “You are allowed to laugh,” I said while giggling. “Not if it’s a bad joke, Chris!” teased Jo.
Samantha continued: “Do you live together?” “Over the holidays we do, but the rest of the year I live with carers employed by an agency. They assist me twenty-four hours a day.” “Even at night?” she exclaimed. “Yes, but luckily for them I have no problem sleeping. But they are there, just in case I need assistance. However, I do not like thinking of them in their professional role, but as flatmates or friends who help me out. It sounds less clinical.” “Doesn’t that get you down?” asked Samantha, continuing: “For me, I could barely live with my sister. I can not wait for the day she moves out.” “It can be frustrating,” I admitted, “But most of the people are lovely.” Samantha replied: “I really like your attitude. You seem just like a normal guy. It must be frustrating though.” “What do you mean?” I asked frowning. “Well,” she said looking down at her feet, “Not being able to do the same things as normal people.” “Define normal.” When she looked alarmed I added: “Just kidding, relax. I choose to focus on the things I can do and not worry about the ones I can’t. Sometimes I need a little extra help and time. But with perseverance I achieve my objective. If I can’t, that's where my flatmates and friends come in handy. I don't see my disability as a barrier, I can do anything I put my mind to. Where there's a will there’s a way, or a wheel in my case,” I answered with a smile on my face whilst Jo was shocked with laughter.
Samantha replied, in between giggles: “You seem such a positive person Chris, I wish I was more like you. Is there anything that irritates you?” “Yes, when people patronise me. When strangers do it, it doesn’t bother me but if it occurs with people who should know better it really annoys me.” She looked puzzled. I elaborated: “When people talk over me, about me and down to me.” Samantha responded: “I understand,” she then walked over to me and gave me a hug. “You’ve taught me so much, thank you.” “You see, I am the same as you, just lazier, sitting around all day.” Samantha and Jo laughed loudly. I was so pleased, I managed to make Samantha feel comfortable. She was so shy and seemed sad when we first met. Jo touched me on the arm and said: “Sorry to interrupt this super intense bonding moment but we need to go.” “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, my so-called friends act like I'm invisible most of time,” said Samantha. “I know the feeling,” I replied, “Some people only see my chair.” We said our goodbyes and parted ways.
A few days later we saw Samantha again. She was transformed, rather than blanking us she called our names, came over and hugged us. The barrier that was present during our initial meeting had been broken. She introduced us to the group who all had the same reaction as her when we first met. We walked over to our usual bench and spent our time laughing and joking between the three of us. Jo said: “I’m really going to miss our time together Chris.” “I will miss you too, keep in touch or I will hunt you down.” “Of course!” Jo laughed.
The seasons pass. It is the start of a new summer, bringing with it a new chapter in my life. Jo has moved on, she is now a nurse working long hours at the local hospital. Although I have had to say goodbye many times to housemates it never gets any easier, but Jo has kept her promise: we are still in touch. My parents have placed an advertisement in the local newspaper and online for a new personal assistant. After days of interviewing and family discussions, the final choice is left up to me. Today, I am in my room waiting for them to arrive. I hear the doorbell, then my mum's voice: “Please come in, Chris is in his room.” “Thank you,” the visitor responds and a few minutes later I hear light footsteps coming down the corridor. “Hi Chris!” I turn and see Samantha standing in the doorway. She wears a white strappy dress with a delicate floral pattern on it, white socks and black boots. Her auburn hair has been cut short. “Hey Sam nice to see you, that is a lovely dress. ''Thank you, it's new,” she says with a curtsy, entering my room. She sits on the bed with her legs crossed. After a brief catch up she suggests: “It’s such a lovely day, shall we go to the Quay?” “What a great idea!” I reply.
- Share this story on
- 7
Lillian Kazmierczak
03/29/2023Chris, this is one of my favorite stories of yours! There is not enough written fromm thendisabled perspective! It is so unfortunate that others see people with disabilities as different. Bravo to you for writing a piece that truly benefits everyone!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Christopher Long
03/30/2023Such a beautiful comment thank you so much for your continued support Lillian
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
08/29/2022Aloha Christopher,
This story is so filled with Hope. When I was in College (late in life, I got my first degree at fifty) i befriended a Spina Difida Dwarf in a small motorized wheel chair. I learned so much from that man. And like your "fictional" character, he was more upbeat and thoughtful than I would have been in his situation.
But what I remember the most is that when we first met...he pitied me. I asked him why? "Because, you are limited by your body to just one love...and only if there is a physical component. They have to do the things you like to do like swim, or run...and you never get to know them as who they really are. "
Yep. I had a lot to learn.
Smiles, Kevin.
COMMENTS (4)