Triana Ch. 01

* I'm not a native English speaker, so sorry if my English si clumsy sometimes :-) *

Triana by StarDust

CHAPTER 1

I knew it would happen again. It always happened. Sooner or later it would just happen.

The new school year has begun and our school was crowded with new kids. Young ladies and gentlemen were rushing through corridors in all directions and were about to get a shock of their young lives when they would see me for the first time. Seeing a heavily crippled teacher such as myself never failed to shock them at first place.

I've got used to that. I've got used to all that attraction that my presence produced and I didn't mind anymore. You may even say I loved that in some strange manner and I would not dismiss that. Yes, I put on a show sometimes, I know that. I guess that's a good proof I liked the attention I attracted. On the other hand, I could not really hide my disabilities and putting them on sheer display helped me to quickly get over the initial surprise. And it helped to sort kids out too.

Some of them were repulsed by me and I knew I would need to be careful with them. I didn't want to disgust them in any way. Some were showing the pity, others just pure curiosity - they all were fine. And then there were few of what I call "a special kind". After all those years of living in a terribly maimed body I have developed a "radar" for them. They were the most valuable treasure for a handicapped woman like myself. They were salt&peper of my life and have been giving me the reason to keep on going and still feel like a normal woman.

These kids (I call them kids even if at the age of 16-17 they were not real kids anymore) showed something different than their mates when seeing me. It was a kind of admiration, perhaps even a desire that one could see in their gaze, in the way how they stared at me. I knew they existed, I met quite a few of them during all those years and I was sure (and happy about that!) I would meet more of them in the future too. They were special to me as I was special to them - because they found me attractive.

Only very few of them could be found even in such a big group of kids like we had in school. That's why I thought of them as of "a special kind". But they were there and I knew it. Sooner or later one or two or three of them will emerge from the group and I was ready to wait. I was patient. The life has taught me to be super patient. I've got some extra lessons, believe me.

Sometimes I searched for them intentionally. Either I simply put on a show and, for example, rubbed my forearm stumps vigorously together as if to sooth some sudden imaginary ache from them and from the corner of my eye I watched reactions of kids who saw me do that. Or I limped slowly and wearily on the prosthesis of my right leg and desperately looked around as if paying attention to not get overrun by some rushing kid. But in fact I would look in their faces and search for the familiar look of concern and admiration in them.

Other times I just didn't care. I did nothing special to attract any attention and just waited for a spontaneous reaction from the crowd. I knew it would come one day, it had always come.

The first time I had noticed this boy was when I was climbing down the staircase from the floor where my office was located. At the platform between two floors where the staircase changed the direction I looked up and checked the first part of staircase that I had just passed through. There were some kids on it, almost all of them staring at me in pure amazement. That was nothing unusual - the special way I had been descending stairs with careful navigation of my false right leg, leaning on the wall with my right forearm stump (with sleeve usually ridden a way high up) and flailing around with the other forearm stump for balance - this all never failed to attract plenty of curious looks. I didn't even need to exaggerate any part of my move to get people stop and stare at me.

But I did notice a little bit different look on the face of one boy. I continued my way down stairs and didn't look up until I was completely at the ground floor. There I stopped, still leaning on the wall as if taking a rest and looked up the steps quickly. The boy was in the middle of the last part of the staircase, quickly looking away from me. I had immediately not doubts about him. He must have been one of "the special kind". No-one would stay behind me all the way down if not for a very good reason. And I was sure I knew the reason why he kept my super slow pace with me while all others just rushed and passed by me.

The boy looked little bit smaller than his mates but had a very beautiful face with big gray-blue eyes. I printed his face in my memory and decided to watch him in the near future.

Now that I knew who I was searching for I really noticed him few times around me. He either stood in the darker corner of the hall and watched me limp by or was in the group of his friends - but obviously not paying attention to them and instead turning his head around. And when he would notice me he changed his position to keep me in his sight. Once I met him when I was going down stairs and he was climbing up. Apparently he didn't pay enough attention and must have got surprised when suddenly realized it's me going the opposite direction. His head flew up to me and flushed red when our glazes met. I looked down immediately pretending to check steps in front of me carefully.

Few days later I was leaving my office and going home when I noticed the boy's class going out of the classroom at the opposite side of the corridor. I got a sudden idea. I made few steps and then turned back as if I had forgotten something. I went back to my office and left the door ajar to make no doubt I was going to leave soon. I walked to the old couch I had in the office, sat down and with my forearm stumps I unbuckled the strap on my left sandal. The one on my real leg. It didn't take that long as you might expect. I left the strap inside the buckle but it was not fixed there.

Then I stood up and carefully walked out of the office. Most of kids from boy's class were already on their way downstairs but the boy was sitting on the bench beside the side wall and pretended to search something in his school bag. I was almost sure he was just pretending. Nevertheless, I turned, locked the office in my clumsy was and dropped keys in the pocket. Then I walked very carefully to the start of the staircase. On the right side of stairs was a wall, the banister was only on the left. I kept on the right as usual and put my right forearm flat on the wall for support.

I used my thigh stump that was trapped tightly inside the bucket to navigate the false leg over the first step. Then I leaned on my right forearm on the wall and bent the only knee I still possessed. I lowered myself way too slowly, just to put on a show for the boy. When my weight was securely on the false leg, I lifted my left foot and moved it forward.

I flexed my toes and hoped the pressure would loosen the strap of the sandal out of buckle. I was ready to give it a small kick if it had not worked as expected. Or just to repeat it again on the next step. But it worked on the first attempt. The sandal slipped from my heel, swung on the upturn toes and then flew in an arc down two or three steps. I sighed loudly pretending the surprise and planted my - now bared, just clad in nylon - foot on the step beside the false one. I didn't have to pretend the swift move of my free left forearm in order to maintain the spoiled balance.

I kept standing for a second or two, raising little bit on tiptoe to justify for the difference in length of my real and false leg. I heard sounds of rush from the hall and turned my head that direction. I saw the boy hurrying to me with the expression of concern on his pretty face.

"What happened, miss? Are you ok?" His voice was melodic, full of youngster enthusiasm and curiosity.

"I lost my sandal," I said to him putting just the right amount of fear in my voice. "I must have fixed it wrongly and it got loose suddenly. These damn things are not very good at manipulating such small things," I added and waved my bare forearm stumps in front of him. I saw his eyes widen at the sight and he gulped visibly.

"Let me help you with that, miss," he said and quickly ran down the few steps to where my sandal was laying tipped over. He picked it up and knelt one step below me.

I leaned on the wall again and with the weight on the prosthesis I raised my nylon clad foot in the air. The boy put the sandal under me and then took my foot in his hands! At first he grabbed just the front part of it with his right hand (I could feel the touch of his thumb on the big toe). He navigated my foot over the sandal while he used his other hand to clear loosen straps from its opening. Then he grabbed my foot by heel with his left hand.

Suddenly he held my foot in his hands and the feeling was overwhelming me. I didn't expect that and it caught me by surprise. The touch of his boyish warm hands on my single foot felt marvelous. I suppressed the sudden urge to wriggle my toes inside his palm. I let him do what he was about to do and just enjoyed the moment. Finally he lowered my foot and inserted it carefully inside the sandal. He checked unnecessarily whether it is placed alright and then fixed the strap around my ankle. I was looking down at him. The sight of his head leaned over my foot just few centimeters from my leg, from the only complete limb I'd got, made me shiver.

"Should be ok now," he said suddenly and stood up.

"Thank you very much," I said and tried to sound as soft as my dry throat would allow me.

I made one tentative step down and the sandal seemed to be fasten alright. The boy tightened the strap just the right way - it felt secure and comfortable. "Looks fine, thanks again," I told him and started to descend stairs in a slow but fluid motion.

"I can accompany you downstairs, if you wish," he offered with trembling voice. "Just to be sure it will not get loosen again," he added quickly.

"Oh no, I don't want to bother you. You must've got plenty of better things to do," I objected. I waited and hoped he would protest.

"I've got no better thing to do right now," he said simply.

"No better thing than losing time with the elder cripple?" I pushed.

He didn't reply, just blushed and looked away. I realized I pressed too much. I hurried to apologize.

"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to be bold," I said with husky voice. "I... I think I just hate moments when I have to bother others with my even simple needs. You know, most of time I can manage pretty well. It's just occasionally that I get in situations like this. And the feel of helplessness then strikes me with the full power and it frustrates me. I feel embarrassed for stealing your time."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, you are not stealing my time," he objected. "I don't mind helping you at all."

I waited and didn't say anything. We were slowly walking down the stairs, side by side.

"So... don't be frustrated," he added finally. "If you need help with anything, you can always ask me. Anything. I'll be really glad to help. I guess, I understand your life is not easy. If I can make it easier for you - in any way - it will be my pleasure..."

He stopped at that abruptly and we finished our walk in silence. Both focused on our own thoughts. I would have given a fortune to know his thoughts.

At the ground floor we split. I thanked him again and headed for the school entrance. The boy left for locker rooms.