After I became paralyzed from the waist down, I thought about ending it all. Many times. Until my friends showed up. "Harper, come out and shoot some hoops." I stared at them blankly, looking down at my wheelchair. I pointed out that playing basketball was going to be a bit difficult for me right now. They had a stroke of genius: "Then you can fetch the ball for us." When we went shopping, they bought new clothes and boba tea. Whenever their hands got full, they just dumped everything onto my lap. I rolled behind them, my numb legs buried under a mountain of girls' accessories and shopping bags. Every now and then, they would turn around and spoon-feed me a bite of ice cream. They would run laps around my wheelchair, laughing and shoving each other. In that moment. I found a reason to stay alive. 1 The summer I turned sixteen. I became paralyzed. But, they would say: "Harper, you've got this." "Harper, let's go out." "Harper, you'd look so good in a dress. Hold on, we're putting one on you." "Harper, let me sit in your wheelchair for a sec, my feet are killing me." "Harper, want to run a marathon with us? We'll give you a three-minute head start." "Harper, we're best friends for life." ...... Early morning. I had been sitting out on the balcony all night again. My mom pushed the door open. First, she sighed. Then she started making my bed. As she straightened the sheets, she couldn't help but sob softly. Irritated, I snapped at her: "If you're going to cry, go cry outside." The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. But before I could apologize, a half-eaten apple was thrown into the living room from the hallway. Followed by a furious roar. "That is your mother." "Watch how you speak to her!" "We didn't cause your condition, so what gives you the right to take it out on us?" As my dad's words echoed, the apple rolled across the floor and hit my foot. I couldn't bend down to pick it up. I just watched it roll underneath my wheelchair. A million thoughts raced through my head. I hated myself for not even being able to do something so simple. My mom looked at me with wet eyes, then walked over. She practiced the motion: squatting, then dropping to her knees. She reached her arm under my wheelchair, feeling around blindly. Her face flushed red from the exertion. Finally, she retrieved the apple. She looked up at me with a goofy, exhausting smile. Her thin lips were pale and chapped. She looked unkempt. "Harper, Mom made some chicken noodle soup. Do you want to try a little?" I stayed stubbornly silent, looking away in disgust at her messy appearance. Before I got sick, she never looked like this. She used to wear beautiful dresses and pearl jewelry. She dressed more stylishly than I did; people used to mistake us for sisters. How did my illness end up ruining her life, too? I thought about the bony spine protruding from her back when she bent over to grab the apple. Her little tummy and double chin were completely gone. In just two years, she had withered into an emaciated, unkempt woman with half a head of gray hair. It wasn't fair. I didn't want to be the villain of this family. But I had no choice. I was the villain. Because of my recklessness, this family had been reduced to this. And yet, I refused to act my age. I always used violent, icy emotions to mask my deep-seated shame. I threw tantrums, blaming my mom, blaming my dad, blaming the car crash. But deep down, the person I hated most was myself. Perhaps sensing my quiet despair, my mom gently patted my head. I just kept my head down, and in a very, very small voice. I said, "I'm sorry." 2 During dinner, the house phone suddenly rang. My mom put down her fork and ran to answer it. "Hello? Hi!" "You're looking for Harper? Sure." "Harper is home, come on over." She walked back to the table, chewing on a piece of leftover toast from yesterday. "Harper, that was Chloe and Zoe. They said they're downstairs and they want to take you out shopping." My mom's tone was incredibly cautious, as if terrified I would throw another tantrum. And of course, I did. I screamed at her: "Shopping? You want me, a paraplegic, to go shopping with them?" "You want me to sit there and watch them walk around in their pretty dresses with their perfectly working legs?" "Did you even consider how I would feel?" "Are you even my mother?" My mom's face went sheet white. She looked at me in a panic and quickly crouched down to soothe me. "No, sweetheart, Mom didn't mean it like that." "They were your best friends. I just thought you'd want to see them." "It's okay, if you don't want to see them, you don't have to. Mom will go call them and tell them to go home." I turned my face away, ignoring her. Suddenly, a heavy fist slammed onto the dining table. "Harper Davis!" "Are you ever going to stop?" "This entire family has quit jobs and fallen ill just to take care of you." "We haven't had a single good day." "What? Are you the only person in the whole world who doesn't have legs?" "Why is it that everyone else can find a way to move on, but you insist on wallowing in misery?" "It's been two years. How long are you going to keep doing this?" "If you act like this, how can your mother ever rest easy... how can she..." He seemed to realize something, cutting his sentence short and falling silent. I continued to pretend I couldn't hear him, biting down hard on the tip of my tongue to swallow the surge of anger. My mom was terrified. She rushed over and pried my jaw open with her bare hands. "Okay, okay, we won't force you anymore." "Be a good girl, Harper. If you don't want to go out, we won't go out." "Whenever you feel ready, then we'll take you..." Before she could finish, there was a knock on our front door. Followed by a chorus of long-lost, giggling voices. "Harper! Open the door, I really have to pee!" "Harper, we heard you were depressed, so the girls are here to cheer you up." "Harper, we brought your favorite boba, but there's only half left because haha, I drank the other half." Hearing their voices, a completely indescribable feeling washed over me. It was complicated. But there was also a strange, undeniable spark of joy. 3 Chloe and Zoe were my absolute best friends from elementary through middle school. But after my parents and I moved out of state, we lost touch. They didn't even know about the accident during my sophomore year of high school. According to my mom, they both ended up going to college in this city. They ran into my mom by chance and finally learned what had happened to me. So they immediately came to see me. I figured, let them look. This is what I am now anyway. This is what the rest of my life is going to be. I took a deep breath and spun my chair around. I braced myself for their pitiful, sympathetic, teary-eyed gazes. But surprisingly, none of that happened. Chloe said: "Harper, how is your skin so clear? You're so pale." Zoe said: "Oh my god, you're so skinny! You'd look amazing in a dress." I froze for a second. I looked at them. And then, for some inexplicable reason, I smiled. And I mocked myself. "Lock yourself in a house for two years and you'll get pale and skinny, too." But I felt a little happy. I don't know why. They didn't seem to look at me like a disabled person. It was just like the old days. They still wanted to compare everything with me. Comparing whose nose looked better. Comparing whose butt was perkier. Comparing who could catch the attention of the senior boys. At least they weren't here to pity me. And I didn't have to pretend everything was fine. I didn't have to put on a brave face just to comfort them. 4 After eating, driven by pure curiosity. They fought over who got to push me downstairs. To the point where they almost flipped me out of the wheelchair. It wasn't until I literally crashed into the elevator doors and got my head trapped between them. That they finally panicked. They hurriedly wrestled me back into the seat. They weren't very strong, so they ended up grabbing my arms, chasing the rolling wheelchair all the way down the hallway. After a few minutes of chaos. The three of us just burst out laughing for no reason. It was, admittedly, a ridiculous scene. Once they safely secured me in the wheelchair, they stopped fighting over who got to push. Instead, they stood on either side of me, pulled out their compact mirrors, and seriously started fixing their hair and makeup. They didn't forget to roll my pant legs back down for me, either. I was just about to ask what the occasion was. When I looked up and saw the older boy from next door. He walked toward us with a big smile, deep dimples on his cheeks. He was over six feet tall, spinning a basketball on his finger. He asked politely. "Harper, are you girls heading out?" I nodded. He smiled politely again. "I'm heading to the courts to shoot some hoops. If you guys are bored, you can come watch." "We're going shopping, maybe another time..." But before I could finish, I was aggressively interrupted. "No another time! Today is perfect!" "Which court are you playing at? We'll bring you water!" ...... And just like that. My lap was piled high with Gatorade. They pushed me along, treating me like a glorified grocery cart. Handing out water to everyone, flipping their hair, striking poses. Whenever they spotted a cute guy, they decided I was in the way. And shoved me to the sidelines. Telling me to go chill in the shade. When it was all over. I accidentally saw the keychains dangling from their backpacks. “Harper is my best friend.” 5 I am their best friend. My only friends are Chloe and Zoe. I don't want to be friends with anyone else. 6 That night, they brought me home. They each demolished two massive slices of pizza and collapsed onto the sofa. "Harper, what's your Wi-Fi password?" "Harper, get down, let me sit in your wheelchair for a bit." "Harper, grab me an apple. Oh, and some chips, too." "Harper, you're blocking the TV. Move over." ...... I randomly grabbed an apple and threw it at them. Pretending to be annoyed, I said: "I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted." As soon as I said that, my mom suddenly froze. A thick mist gathered in her eyes. She said. "Harper wants to go to sleep? Mom will carry you to bed." Then, she emotionally pushed me toward my bedroom. I knew exactly why she was reacting this way. After all, before Chloe and Zoe showed up. It had been a very long time since I naturally wanted to go to sleep. I survived solely on sleeping pills. I nodded, letting her drag my senseless body. She wasn't a strong woman, but she was always able to lift me up all by herself. I only found out later that my mom had secretly spent months practicing lifting heavy sandbags just to be able to carry me. But today was a little strange. She seemed to be struggling to lift me. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her breathing was heavier than usual. I asked: "Mom, what's wrong?" She shook her head and said: "Nothing, Mom's hands just slipped." "Don't worry, Harper, Mom can definitely pick you up." Eventually, she managed to carry me to bed. But I also saw the profound heartbreak in the eyes of the man standing behind her. Honestly, a lot of times. I couldn't tell if my dad loved me or not. But I knew he deeply loved my mom. Isn't it natural for a husband to love his wife? If he loved me a little less. That was fine. I didn't need that much love.
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