The Shadow Man by Helen Fields

Author:Helen Fields [Fields, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Wheelchair access to the sports centre wasn’t through the front door, and that suited Xavier fine. He had a priority parking space at the rear. When it was raining and holding an umbrella wasn’t practical, taking the shallow ramp down to the alleyway was just fine. There had been times in his life when he’d resented being made to feel different. An alternative doorway avoiding steps that also kept him out of queues and therefore out of sight – he’d had that with night clubs before. Seating at the edge of venues, purportedly with easier access but that actually just kept less able bodies out of view.

The sports centre wasn’t guilty of that. Twice a week he met up with friends and played wheelchair basketball. The benefits were social as much as they were fitness. He got out of the house whenever he could, but that was getting increasingly difficult as muscular degeneration caught up in the race they’d been having for several years. Sometimes he felt strong enough to believe that it would never get the better of him. Then there were days when just lifting his arms to pick up the kettle and make a cup of tea was the effort equivalent of a boxing match.

Today was about medium on the scale of useless to extraordinary. The basketball team was diverse in terms of how each had arrived at wheelchair status. From army veterans to car-crash victims, those who’d been born lacking a functioning pair of legs to one who’d attempted suicide from a high building only to smash both legs beyond repair but with a renewed appreciation of the value of life. They all carried a label.

Sport had always been a part of his life. He’d played football, rugby, hockey, jogged whenever he could and never felt it was a chore. Then, as if in slow motion, his body had begun to fail. The misdiagnoses in the early stages had veered from the ridiculous to the just plain negligent. Glandular fever. Food poisoning. Excessive growth spurt. Gluten intolerance. Hypochondria. And excessive masturbation: if only.

He still loved getting outside. These days things just happened a little slower. He’d be on the sidelines watching his local team playing football rather than scoring goals himself, and offer encouraging words to those doing their utmost to shift from the sofa to completing their first park run. Sidelined pretty much summed up how he defined life in a wheelchair. That wasn’t self-pity – just his reality.

The girls who’d giggled when he’d spoken to them in his past life – a tall, well-muscled eighteen-year-old – now slid their gazes towards his able-bodied friends. Potential employers saw him as either a diversity tick box or as requiring additional investment. Not everyone, not everywhere. Life still had its moments of hilarity, warmth, and fulfilment. But had the edge been taken off? You fucking bet it had.

It was only a couple of minutes to the car park. He had his sports kit on his lap, keys in one hand and was self-propelling with the other.

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