Page 109 of Rough

“About?”

“I’m going to pick you up. Just don’t flop around.”

“But--”

I cocked an eyebrow. “But nothing. I’ve been handling your old wrinkly penis and wiping your ass for over a month. You can let me do this. We’re going to dance. Just follow my lead.”

I slipped the sling off of his left arm, and then slid my forearms under his armpits.

I lifted him from the wheelchair. “Lean against me. I’ll hold you up. There’ll be no weight on your feet.”

He did as I asked.

“What’s this song?”

“Jackson 5’s I’ll Be There,” he said.

“I like it.”

“I’ve always liked it,” he said. “Think that’s why Brad put it on this list.”

Slowly and cautiously, we swayed back and forth to the music. I did the best I could, while making sure I kept his weight off the floor.

In no time, my arms began to ache, as did my legs, and as much as I felt that each second might be my last, I somehow managed to make it to the end of the song.

I stumbled to his chair, lowered him into it, and stood up.

The crowd began to clap. Before long, everyone was clapping. And then, they began cheering.

I leaned over and put his sling back on.

“Take a bow, kid.”

I performed another curtsy.

“Kid, you made my night.”

I nodded, still out of breath from our dance. “And you made…mine.”

“The third thing…”

I looked at him. “Yes.”

“Make me a promise.”

“Okay.”

“Keep him safe,” he said.

“Okaaaaay.”

“I mean it. I saw what you did on the porch. Keep him out of trouble. I love that boy. I really do. Promise me you’ll keep him safe.”

I stood there, fully knowing the promise would only be good for the amount of time that Brad allowed me to be a part of his life, and no longer.

“It’s a tough one to make,” I said. “It depends a lot on him.”

“Depends on you not giving up, too.”