CP- a Short Story

­C.P.

September 18, 2008

They didn't get it. I mean, I guess you could say nobody can really get what another's life experience is like but in this case, they couldn't get it because I couldn't really tell them in their way of communicating; but he got it…and I got it, that's my sense of humor…you'll see; read on.

I suppose this might make a bit more sense if I explain that "I'm a C.P." as they lovingly refer to me, meaning I have cerebral palsy. I go to a camp in the summers with many people with all sorts of disabilities and the counselors are the ones who call me a C.P.; but they also call me Luellen or Lou or LuLu. They love us at this camp and by they, I mean those that are not disabled though sometimes they seem mentally challenged…joking again.

However, this is not where the incident of which I speak about, "they not getting it". In fact, it wasn't just one incident. It still may occur. I guess that maybe I am being obscure so I should get on with my story. I am writing this story by talking into a microphone on my computer, by the way. It has a speech recognition program. I am a bit twisted and cannot use my hands or legs fully so I usually get around in a wheel chair. I am twenty-five years old so I am given adult freedom and have a motorized chair for getting around town, though I can't drive a car. I don't know why I keep explaining my symptoms but this story would be hard to grasp without doing so. Shall I explain my looks? My mother always uses the word, shall. It's a lovely word; don't you think? Okay, I'm getting diverted again. My mother also uses the word "lovely" a lot, especially when she talks about me.

"Luellen has such lovely hair. I love to wash and comb it and plait her golden locks." That's how she talks. She's incredibly old fashion. Sometimes I feel like her doll. But what would I do if I had a child born all messed up? Okay, we're getting closer to my story, now. I'm afraid I will never have a child and they are afraid that I will.

My father doesn't give me much attention; but he got his son who is living on his own, now doing his own thing. Brian was so good to me and I suppose still is. We email and talk on the phone a lot. Brian is loving and patient with me. Brian understands this story of which I am going to tell, now.

I go outdoors in my motorized chair a lot. We live in a small city where there are plenty of sidewalks and not terribly busy streets. As much as my mother is old fashion and treats me like a doll, she allows and assists me with my freedom. One afternoon in the summer when I was out and about, alone, a man came up to me and started to chat with me. He was interested in my chair or maybe my golden plait. He told me his name was Kim. We talked for a long time and he walked along with me as I wandered the neighborhood. He asked about my condition which is obvious beyond the wheelchair. He wanted to know if I could get up. I told him, "with help." He asked me if it felt good when he rubbed my arm. I told him, "My skin has the same sensitivity as anyone else's." Then he rubbed my thigh, then his hand went between my legs and it started to feel really good between my legs. I had shorts on.

Kim said, "Let's go to the school and chat." It is an elementary school in my neighborhood.

"I would like that." He was very patient with my slow talk.

As we strolled, well he strolled and I rolled; I asked him if he would stroke me some more and he complied. At the school yard Kim asked if I could walk at all. I told him yes, if he lifted me up and put his legs behind mine. He gently lifted me and wrapped his arms under my breasts from behind me and put his knees just behind mine, helping my legs move forward in steps like a walking full-sized marionette. When we parted that afternoon he promised to meet me there the next day around the same time we first met.

When I returned home my mother asked, "Where were you for so long? I must admit I was a bit worried."

"I met a new friend."

"That's nice. What did you do?"

"He helped me to walk."

"Oh she must be a very nice friend," and she walked off into the kitchen before I could maintain that my friend was a he. She had to make dinner for my father. My mother is not always patient with my slow speech and my father expects dinner right at six o'clock but never helps. I guess he's old fashioned too. I would never marry a man like him.

I went upstairs to talk to my computer.

I met with Kim at the school the next day. He helped me walk again. I asked him to rub my breasts because it hurt where he held me. When he rubbed them I felt wet between my legs. It felt so good that I almost wet my pants. I saw his bulge in his pants and he tried to adjust it. I reached out to him and he backed away.

My mother was happy I had a new friend. She told me, "I would like to meet your new friend. You should invite her over."

I didn't want to and only said, "Oh, maybe someday."

"What's her name?"

"Kim."

"What is Kim's surname?

"I don' know. I never asked."

"Ask her, maybe we know her parents." My mother said.

I didn't want to ask him his last name. I didn't want to scare him off. He is a lot older than I am and he didn't seem like he wanted me to know too much about him. I like the mystery of him.

We always met at the school but then we would go other places. In the woods he carried me to sit by a pond in a glen. There he kissed me on the lips. "More," I urged. It sounded like, "Mow-huh." He kissed me long and caressed my breast. I reached for his bulge and he backed away. "Pa-lhase," I begged. He picked me up and brought me back out to my wheel chair on the path. It was getting dark and cold out.

When I returned home no one was home. I was chilled. I went to my room and closed the door. I reached between my legs and it was damp. I rubbed the dampness and warmed up. It got damper. I wanted Kim in my bed with me and then I heard the front door slam. I turned on the T.V.

That night Brian called home. He talked to me and told me he had a new girlfriend named, Kimberly. My heart skipped a beat. "I have a Kim too." Brian isn't always patient with my speech either. He likes to talk to me but not so much with me.

"That's nice. E-mail me about your friend. I've got to go. Kimberly is waiting for me. Bye…e-mail me." Was my Kim waiting for me like I found myself waiting for him?

I didn't find him for over a week of rainy days. My mother suggested I invite Kim over. I think she knew I was waiting for the rain to stop. She took me on errands just to get me out of the house. That week we had some intense thunder storms and then it would clear up but she doesn't let me take my motorized chair out when the ground is wet. She thinks I'll get shocked or slide too easily or something. Maybe she's just worried about the upkeep of the expensive chair.

I learned a new word today- pining. I was pining for Kim in the pine woods. Finally, we reunited. We reunited at the school and I asked him to follow me. He didn't really follow but he let me lead. I led him to the pine woods in the park next to the school. The school was closed for summer so no-one is around much. It was August when most families are away on vacation. Camp in June was my holiday. August was my adventure time.

"Rub me." I demanded. Kim looked at me hard. He played with my hair. "Pa-lha-ase." My speech was even worse with yearning. He rubbed my shoulders, my arm, my hands, my fingers. I grabbed his hand and put it between my legs. I lifted my shirt and exposed my breasts though I don't think my warped torso is so lovely. He didn't look. He was looking at my crotch. I had worn a skirt that day. I spread my knees wide. Could he see my underwear getting wet? He touched my underwear and then smelled his fingers.

"Cawrrry me."

He lifted me out of my chair and lay me down on the damp ground. I didn't care. He pulled down my underwear over my twisted legs. He was serene and tender. I reached up to him. I could see his bulge. Then he finally undid his belt and undid his fly and let his pants drop. He did not have on any underwear and at last, I saw a man's penis in real life. I was amazed at how it stood up strait and hard. It looked enormous. But he didn't lie on top of me. He bent down and started to lick my thighs. He pulled down my panties, as my mother refers to them. Then he licked between my legs. It felt so wonderful I thought I might cry out but I didn't want anyone to find us there in the woods. I wanted this to go on forever. "Pha-lhase." He slid inside me so easily I hardly knew it happened. He started to pump and pump. He watched me. I closed my eyes. Before long he shuddered and quickly pulled out of me. White stuff came out of his penis in little spurts like a pulsing fountain. He fell back on the soft damp pine needle laden ground next to me. "Are you okay? Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Pha-lease. Th-honk-ou-ou-ou."

"This is just between us. We must go back to the school now." He said and helped me get dressed then tenderly lifted me up and put me in my chair.

So here's where the story gets sad. People think that just because I was deformed at birth that I don't think and feel like anyone else. I know that cerebral palsy is confusing because it affects different people's minds and bodies differently but it is not a progressive disease. I was smart enough to get through high school with good grades and test scores. I think as well as any other adult who finished high school and I am 25 years old; but some people can't understand that. Kim knew that. I think my mother knows that but in the end, my father doesn't believe that.

There was a 14 year old child in the woods that day. We didn't hear her or see her. She was with a boyfriend. They saw us. I've heard that the boy told the girl, Lisa, not to say anything but she thought I was being taken advantage of and went home and told her mother about the handicap woman and the old man in the woods. They live on our block and everyone on our block knows where I live because we have bright yellow street sign in front of our house with a silhouette of a person in a wheelchair. They see me out in it, too. I may have even had a chat with Lisa at sometime so she hears my slow speech which probably makes her think I am mentally retarded. She may have meant well by telling her mother what she saw.

Her mother, told my parents. My father, who barely gives me the time of day, went to the police.

"Noooo!" I said.

The police came to the house to talked to me but I was in my room brooding. They wouldn't let me go out alone anymore. Lisa identified Kim to them.

When they found Kim, he confessed. He told them it was consensual. They didn't believe him and they arrested him for rape. I don't know what has happened to him since.

"Noooo!" I said. They didn't believe me. Now, I will never see him again, I am sure. I pine for him.

My brother, Brian is home from Colorado with his girlfriend, Kimberly. As it turns out, she is an older, wealthy woman. Nobody cares. I heard my father say, "Good for you, Brian. An older woman knows a lot more about how to physically treat a man."

I am in my room writing this story for a cathartic experience. I've just learned that word. Life is a learning experience and I am trying to learn from my Kim.