The Making of a Gigolo (9) - Amanda Griggs

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter Eight

In one sense, things didn't go all that well that night. Bobby got there to find Amanda frazzled and upset. It had been long enough since she had cooked a full meal that she was a little rusty in the kitchen department, and things weren't going like she had envisioned them.

She met Bobby at the door but, because what was on the stove needed constant watching, her introduction of Bobby to her father was hurried.

"I'll just leave you two to get acquainted," she said, her mind obviously somewhere else.

She left, to return to a meal that went more and more South as she got more and more frustrated. That was the part that didn't go well that night.

On the other hand, when Bobby and Ron were abandoned, and left alone, things went much better. The first thing Bobby did was get into his knapsack, which Amanda hadn't even noticed that he brought, and pull out two beanbags that he had asked his mother to make. One was green, and the other red. He held them up in front of Ron.

"Hi," he said, smiling. "I'm Bobby. Can you point to the beanbag I'm holding that is green?"

Ron's spastic arm waved, going towards Bobby's right side, in which hand he was holding the green beanbag.

"That's great," said Bobby. He switched hands, holding them far apart. "How about now?" he asked.

Ron's hand pointed the other way.

"Hang on a minute," said Bobby. "We need something to lay across the arms of your wheel chair."

Bobby went to the kitchen, where Amanda was fully involved in ruining dinner.

"That's the garage, right?" he asked, pointing to a door that was on one side of the kitchen.

"What? Yes. What's wrong?" asked the harried woman.

"Nothing," he said. "Go on with what you're doing. I just need to look in the garage for a minute."

"Why?" Amanda looked at him like he was crazy. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me," said Bobby, smiling. "That smells really good. I can't wait."

He ignored her then, going through the door into the garage. He looked around for something he could lay across the arms of Ron's wheel chair, but there was nothing there that would work. He could make something at home, but that wouldn't help them tonight. Then, he smacked his forehead with one hand and said, "Stupid!"

His trip back through the kitchen left a confused and even more frustrated Amanda in his wake, because he didn't want to explain what he was doing just yet. She was busy, and he needed to fine tune the process he had thought up. Ron, of course, was still sitting in the living room. Bobby pushed his chair to the dining room and was pleased to see that the arms fit under the table. That let Ron lay his arm on top of the table. Bobby put both bean bags on the table in front of Ron and went to sit down across from him.

"I'm going to ask you questions," said Bobby. "You'll be able to answer them either yes, or no. Green means yes, and red means no ... okay?"

Ron's hand shot for the green beanbag. He knocked it a foot away.

"Good!" said Bobby, leaning over the table to put the green bag back within Ron's reach. "Just to make sure this is working, we'll start with some silly questions. Are you a woman?"

Ron's eyes seemed to glitter, as they stared across the table at Bobby, and, with much more control, his hand slid across to touch the red bean bag.

"Do you live in Hutchinson, Kansas?" asked Bobby.

Ron reached for the green bag.

"Let's try something more complicated," said Bobby. "Are you comfortable right now?" he asked.

Ron's hand went to the green bag, and then, slowly, moved toward the red one.

"Can I interpret that to mean that you're physically comfortable, but maybe worried about some things?"

The hand went to the green bag and landed on top of it.

"I don't blame you," said Bobby, smiling. "I'd be worried about some things if I were in your shoes too. When Amanda gets here, we'll try to work on those things. For now, lets just figure out a list of things to work on later. Are you worried about the station?"

Green bag.

"Are you worried about your personal finances?"

Red bag.

"Are you worried about me?"

Green bag.

"That," said Bobby, "is something we can work on now. You probably want to know what my intentions are towards Amanda."

Green bag.

"Well," said Bobby. "That's kind of complicated. I like her. Our relationship is a little strange, or at least I'd think so if I were you. It is not a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of thing. I met her through a mutual friend, who I was able to help. She was having some problems in the emotional arena, I guess you'd say. Amanda is having some problems like that too, and all I'm here for is to support her, and help her decide what she wants to do in the future. I don't think there's really a name for what I do. It's kind of like I help people figure out what they want out of life. Then they have to decide how to make that happen. If I can help with that, then that's great. If I can't, then they may not need me any more. Does any of that make sense to you?"

The hand went to the green bag first, and then moved to the red one, before going back to stop in between them.

"Maybe I can explain it to you better some time," said Bobby. "Or maybe Amanda can explain it. What I want you to understand is that I'm only here for what Amanda needs. One of those things was to be able to communicate with you. That's why I thought up the bean bags."

Bobby stopped, and stared across the table for a few seconds.

"It is not my intention to hurt Amanda in any way, or to make her life more difficult. Do you believe me?"

The hand didn't move at all, for a few seconds. Then, slowly, it went to the green bag and rested on top of it.

Amanda stuck her head into the dining room, after looking for them in the living room and not finding them.

"There you are!" she said. "How would you both like to go out to eat?"

Her father's arm, which was lying on the table between two cloth things of some type, lifted and landed on top of the red one.

"He doesn't want to go out to eat," said Bobby, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

"What?" asked Amanda. Then her frustration showed. "I ruined dinner. Nothing is working right. What do you mean he doesn't want to go out to eat? How could you know that?!"

Bobby got up and went to Amanda. He took her elbow. She resisted and he squeezed.

"Ow!" she yelped. "What are you doing? What's going on?" She sounded like she was about to cry.

"Just sit down for a minute," said Bobby, taking her to the chair he'd been sitting in. "I think your father is more interested in talking to you, right now, than eating."

Amanda jerked her elbow from his grasp, and her hand went to rub it. She was obviously about to yell at him.

"Sit!" thundered Bobby.

She did, rather abruptly, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. He leaned over and pointed to the red bean bag.

"That beanbag is red. It means 'No'. The other one is green, and means 'yes'. Ask your father questions he can answer either yes, or no, and he can tell you things."

Amanda turned her thunderstruck face toward her father.

"Daddy?"

Ron erupted, with grunts and moans, and his arm flailed uncontrollably for a few seconds, but then landed with a thump on the green bag.

"Can you really understand me?" Amanda's eyes were as big as saucers.

Ron moved his hand back to the middle, and then returned it to the green bag.

"You can talk to me?!" she squealed.

The hand went firmly to the red bag, and then moved to the green.

"That means yes and no," said Bobby. "In this case, I think it means he can tell you things, but only if you ask him the right questions."

Ron's hand thumped down on the green bag.

Amanda lost it then. Her frustration with dinner had keyed her up, and her emotions were already at peak levels. This put her over the top and she burst into tears of happiness. Bobby had to catch the chair as she jumped to her feet and ran around the table to envelop her father in a hug that almost strangled him. She bawled with relief, that she could finally "talk" to her father again, and sobbed about how much she loved him. Bobby just stood, grinning, until she realized that, while she was talking to her father, he wasn't able to respond, because she was all over him. When that penetrated her brain, she scrambled back to the chair Bobby was holding for her, and started throwing question after question at her father.

Forgotten, Bobby slipped into the kitchen, to see how bad things were, and if they could be salvaged. The roast was overdone and tough, but edible. The bread she had tried to make was hard as a rock. Even the gravy was so thick it could be spread with a knife. The mashed potatoes weren't too bad but, all in all, she was right. He slipped out of the kitchen, into the garage, and out the door to his car. Half an hour later he was back with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, with all the trimmings.

They were still talking when he brought it into the dining room and set it out.

One of the things they learned that night was that the doctors were wrong about Ron only being able to handle soft foods. His throat muscles worked just fine. He just hadn't been able to tell anybody that, since the stroke. As a result, he got his first tentative bites of solid food that night, since the stroke hit. His tear ducts worked just fine too, as was made obvious when Amanda fed him his first piece of chicken in years.

By ten in the evening, much had been accomplished, but Amanda and Ron were both emotionally and physically exhausted. Bobby helped get Ron into bed, which was a long process that involved bed pan and cleanup. Bobby laughed when Ron got an erection during the process.

"Don't laugh," said Amanda. "He does that all the time. He can't help it."

"Especially now with a beautiful young woman handling him, like that," said Bobby.

Ron hooted, which, during the night, had been identified as a sound that meant "Yes".

"That's terrible!" scolded Amanda. "I'm your daughter!"

Ron subsided, and was put to bed. He seemed to be asleep before they got everything settled, and left the room.

Bobby found himself enveloped in warm, clasping woman.

"I can't tell you how much you've done for us," she moaned, burrowing her face into his chest.

"It was just an idea," he said, stroking her back.

"It was an idea that has changed our lives, Bobby," she said, looking up. There were tears in her eyes again.

"I'm glad things will be better." He kissed her nose. "It's late. I'd better be going."

"You can't leave," she said, holding him tighter.

"You want me to stay?" he asked, surprised. "With your father here?"

She reached her lips for a kiss, and then said, "Yes."

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>