LOST
Paralyzed

Stew woke with a start, out of breath and his skin damp with sweat. “Huh…,” he said blinking and looking around as he began to calm himself. “At least it was just a dream.”

He climbed out of bed, put on his lounge pants, a t-shirt and some slippers and headed downstairs, stopping at the bathroom on his way.

As he slowly ambled down the stairs, he made a pledge to himself to make it through the day without raising his voice. The doctor said not to do anything strenuous and he figured arguing probably fell into that category.

After making it to the landing at the bottom of the stairs, right before making a left turn into the kitchen, something in the living room caught his eye. He saw a three-inch high creature, dressed in brown furs walking across the coffee table with a set of keys hanging on its shoulders. The creature saw Stew looking at him, dropped the keys and hurried out of sight. Stew shook his head in disbelief and continued into the kitchen where he was greeted by his father.

“Stew! Good morning. We expected you to sleep later than this.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to sleep when I’m being chased by a crazy man with a dagger,” Stew replied.

“What?!”

“Bad dream. I woke up before all the real excitement.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. What’s for breakfast?”

“Well, your mom had planned on pancakes but we’re out of syrup. I’m going to run to the store… once I replace my keys, that is.”

“Check the coffee table.”

“The coffee table? I don’t remember leaving them there,” he said as he left the kitchen to look for them. “So, they are,” he said from the living room. “What d’ya know?” He bumped Stew’s shoulder with an elbow, “Thanks, sport.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t call me ‘sport’, Dad. You know I hate that.”

“I know,” he said as he gave Carolyn a peck on the cheek and walked toward the kitchen door that led to the driveway. “That’s why I do it… sport.”

“You’re funny,” Stew said dryly. James just smiled and closed the door behind him. “Is there any coffee made?” Stew asked anyone who would answer, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He then looked to the table where his sister, Becca, was working on some homework. “Morning, Bec.”

“Good morning, Stew. Mom just made a fresh pot. There’s Irish Cream in the fridge. Is that still your favorite?”

“Good deal. Yeah, it’s still my favorite. Thank you, Mom.”

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you now, but if you’d rather me not…”

“Okay, okay. Let’s not start out the day like this. I’m sorry for ruining yesterday for you, Stewart. I know it should have been a relief not grief. But I’m your mother and I worry about you… especially now.”

“And you’re allowed to worry, Mom, but I’m not retarded and I’m not paralyzed.”

“Stew, I know…”

“Let me finish.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am just to let it all go, simply because of a blow to my head. So, I’ll have the occasional hallucination. Big deal. If that’s my only issue, I can handle that. I don’t need a caretaker.”

“What if it’s not the only issue?”

“I’ll deal with any other issues as they come. I’m not going to give up on all of my dreams just because I’m waiting for some hypothetical situation to materialize. A person can’t live like that. You wouldn’t want me to live like that. You and Dad didn’t raise me to live like that. If the roles were reversed, would you want to live like that?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“So, you see my point?”

“Yes. You know… this is just as much your father’s fault as it is mine.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Mom.”

“You inherited your father’s debate skills and my stubbornness,” she said as she poured Stew a cup of coffee. Stew and Carolyn stared at each other for a moment. Then, their mouths loosened up into smiles and everyone burst into laughter.

“Hey, Stew… before I forget, Marc called before you came downstairs,” Becca informed him.

“He did?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way here to visit you.”

“Cool. Anything good playing at MovieTown?”

“Not anything you would like. I read your reviews, you know.”

Stew nearly choked on coffee that chose the wrong route to his stomach. “You do?”