Chapter 12 - Hands in His Pockets
The room stayed too quiet after. My joystick was still under my thumb where his hand had covered it. I kept my thumb there and didn't move it. My bear was tight against my chest with my other arm. I could hear the sheer curtains moving a little by the window and the soft hum from my chair.
He stood back right away when I told him to stop. His hand was in the air for a second like he didn't know where to put it. Then he put it down by his side. Nobody said anything. The woman didn't jump in. She stayed where she was by the dresser, her hands folded in front of her beige pants. She looked at him, then at me. She was letting me have the next part.
My name is Leo. I was eight that morning in my bedroom with daylight coming through the curtains.
The man's watch caught a little light when he moved his arm. He glanced down at my chair, at the joystick, and then he stepped back one more step. His shoes made a soft sound on the floor. He wasn't near my wheels anymore. That part mattered. I took a breath in through my nose and let it out slow. My shoulders came down a little.
"I messed up," he said. His voice was low.
He didn't say anything after that right away. He just stood there with his hands open where I could see them. The woman's necklace moved a tiny bit when she breathed. She didn't nod or shake her head. She was waiting like I was.
He looked at my face, not at my chair. "Can I try that again?" he asked.
I didn't answer yet. I pressed my bear's ear between my fingers. The fur was flat there from me holding it so much. I listened to my own breathing. In, out. The headrest was firm behind my head. I liked that it was there without anyone having to hold me up.
He crouched down. Not fast. He bent his knees until his eyes were about level with mine. His dark shirt pulled a little at his shoulders. Now I could see the stubble on his chin and the lines around his eyes. He put his hands in his pockets after he crouched, like he wanted to make sure they stayed out of the way. That helped more than what he said.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I grabbed. I won't do that again."
It was plain. No long part about why. No story about being worried. He just said it. I looked at his hands in his pockets. They stayed there. The wristwatch was half hidden now. I believed his hands would stay there because I could see where they were.
I looked over at the woman. She gave me the smallest look back. Not pushing. Her ponytail was over one shoulder. She had that calm face she always had, but her eyes moved to the door of my room and then back to me, like she was checking I still had space if I needed it.
I breathed again. My thumb lifted off the joystick and then set back down on it, light. Mine. I could feel the plastic edge under the skin.
"You can ask," I said. My voice sounded small in the quiet room, so I stopped and started over. "You can ask first."
He nodded once. He stayed crouched. "Okay," he said.
I squeezed my bear. "And if I say I got it, you keep your hands back."
"Okay," he said again. He didn't add anything to it.
The curtains moved again. A car went by outside, far off. Daylight lay across the foot of my bed in a white line. I watched dust move in it for a second. That gave me time to think. My heart was still beating fast from when he'd grabbed, but it was slowing down. I didn't want to cry and I didn't want to yell. I just wanted the rule to stick.
"Say it," I said.
He looked up a little. "Say what?"
"Say you'll ask."
He kept his hands in his pockets. "I'll ask first. If you say you got it, I'll keep my hands back."
I nodded. That was what I needed to hear. Not in a baby voice. Just straight. The woman uncrossed her hands then and let her arms hang loose. I saw her shoulders drop like she'd been holding her breath too.
"Okay," I said. "You can try again now."
He stayed where he was, crouched by the window light. "Do you want help turning toward the window?" he asked. "Or you got it?"
I looked at the space between my chair and the dresser. It wasn't a hard turn. I knew I could do it. Part of me wanted to say no just to see if he'd really listen. Part of me wanted to say yes so we could get past the bad feeling.
"I got it," I said.
He didn't move. His hands stayed in his pockets. He just watched. I pushed the joystick a little with my thumb. My chair hummed and turned smooth to the right. The headrest moved with me. My bear rode on my lap and didn't slide. I stopped facing the bright part of the room. The light hit my pajama sleeves and made the white trim look whiter.
I looked back at him. He was still crouched, still back. He gave a short breath out through his nose, like relief, but he didn't smile big or clap or act like it was a big deal. He just nodded.
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"Good driving," he said quietly.
I held my bear up a half inch. That was enough for now.
