Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,13

care of my sister and me, and did a lot of volunteer work in the community.” I took another bite of my pot roast, amazed at how seamlessly he did it. He told the truth, he just didn’t elaborate on the details. For example, the fact that his mother had volunteered at the hospital during an outbreak of influenza in the early 1900’s, and had ultimately lost her life because of it.

“My father was a jeweler,” he continued softly. I lost both of them years ago. His hand dipped into his pocket where I knew he kept his father’s old watch. He had shown it to me once, and I knew that its surface was worn smooth on one side from years of his using it like a worry stone. He fielded all of their questions with a calm politeness that I couldn’t have managed in his place, and I gave him a warm smile of gratitude when his eyes met mine over the pot roast. I knew he didn’t usually eat human food, but he somehow managed two servings of Mom’s odd vegetable casserole.

Chelsea told us all about school and her plans to pursue a medical degree. Mom and Dad were beaming. I studied them objectively for a moment. They both looked older than they should. Mom had deep lines creasing the corners of her blue eyes, and she had lost weight since I was a teenager, not plumped out the way most people do as they age. Her meticulously styled hair would have grey streaks if it wasn’t colored that perfectly civilized dark blond. Dad was balding and his blood pressure was always too high. He had a pinched look around his mouth when no one was watching, but he had learned to turn it into a bland smile when he was under scrutiny.

Mom brought out a pie for dessert and the conversation turned to Chelsea’s most recent presentation on the dangers of overeating and the national obesity epidemic. I spooned an extra helping of whipped cream onto my plate and gave her a bland look. My mind wandered as I tuned out the conversation. I had been planning to start college when the accident happened. I was an honor roll student with a bright future. Afterward, my parents had thought their first-born was going to die at any moment. They spent weeks not knowing if I would ever wake up. And when I did, I was impaired, disabled, permanently changed. Chelsea was now their hope for their future, their golden child. They hung on her every move, beamed over her every accomplishment as if it were their own. I couldn’t blame them. I would never be anything more than a wheelchair-bound library assistant. I probably wouldn’t ever get married and have children. I would never advance or grow. And they saw no reason Peter would be here with me tonight unless he had some sort of ulterior motive.

They were right, I realized, he was probably only humoring me. Maybe feeling sorry for me. That was probably it. Despite his not being, uh….human, he seemed to be a genuinely caring man. I pushed my broccoli around on my plate while Mom told Peter about Chelsea’s year of study abroad. She had spent time in Switzerland learning about the latest advances in medicine. She also went to Costa Rica for several weeks to help out with the mission there. I had never been out of the state.

Peter gradually steered the discussion toward me whenever he could, and his efforts were not lost on me, though my family didn’t seem to notice. “Have you visited Melody’s new reading program at the library?” His eyes sparkled with pride. “She has such a way with the children. There were at least ten kids there last week, and they all adore her.”

Mom patted my hand like a child. “Well isn’t that something.” Peter frowned.

When the evening was over, I all but rushed to the door, desperate to just get home to the shelter of my nice, quiet apartment and a four-legged best friend who would be thrilled to see me whether I was a rocket scientist or a cucumber.

Peter turned to my parents at the last moment. “Thank you for the interesting evening Mr. and Mrs. Westcott,” he said politely. “I hope that someday you realize how lucky you are to have such an intelligent, beautiful, and strong daughter as Melody.” He turned and pushed my wheelchair out the door without a backward