I must admit that it took me a few seconds before shaking the hand she offered me and greeting her properly. The sight of that petite disheveled brunette in a purple puffy dress, perched on two ancient-looking underarm crutches took me by surprise.
"I'm sorry, that's my evening attire" she said, noting that I was looking at her up and down and up again. Her left stump and right leg were encased in a thick lavender stocking with darker floral designs and her unique shoe was a purple heel matching the dress. It had me wondering how she would dress during the day. "Conservative attire" might not have been part of this lady's wardrobe or vocabulary. Nevertheless, I introduced myself and offered a tea. With the fridge still empty and the kettle being one of the only appliances I had unpacked and plugged, that's the best I could do.
"Please, come to my place, I've fixed too much for dinner and I'm pretty sure you're starving after the day you've had. I mean, if you don't have any other plan". I hadn't. And let's admit it I was mesmerized. I tagged along and it took her a few steps to realize that she was crutching too quickly for me. She slowed down back to my level and we entered her house.
The layout was pretty much the same as my house, a wide hall leading to a spacious living room and adapted kitchenette, with a handicapped bathroom on the left and two bedroom en-suite on the right. A door at the back of the kitchenette was opening on a tiny garden. Nothing fancy except the colors. Abigail clearly loved flashy tones. Even the three prosthetic legs neatly aligned against the wall of her living room were sporting colorful patterns. I sat on a frilly sofa while she sat on a sport wheelchair and went about in the kitchen, carrying things a tray she had placed on her thighs.
Soon she had arranged a fair amount of pretty sandwiches and snacks in front of me and joined me on the sofa. I had remained silent and wondering the whole time. My eyes jumping from there stump that was popping out of the layers of jupons, the prosthetic legs whose opening seemed so wide for such a petite woman and...
"I guess it takes one to spot another one." She smiled.
"I beg your pardon ?"
"You're a pretender. It only took me ten seconds and three of your steps to know it. You seem to enjoy it soooo much !"
"I don't..."
"Of course you do ! You're faking a disability. I'm so good a spotting the likes of me, you can't fool me. And you're not so good at it, I must say."
I said nothing. My fresh new world was already falling appart. I had been made. This is something I had not thought about. Not enough. I felt my cheeks burning and grabbed my cane to walk out. And that last gesture, grabbing my cane, even though I didn't REALLY need it got me thinking. I NEEDED it, really. Whatever happened, I could not fathom getting up without its help, I could not think of putting weight on my left leg without my ankle giving up. I was this way. And so was she.
She'd been looking at me during my short internal battle, smiling.
"Did I hurt your feelings ?"
"Not really, even though, I don't think I am bad at being just who I am. Even though you're really good at being you""I've been an amputee for almost a decade now. It'd be a shame to be bad at it. You're not good because you seem to enjoy it too much, you smile almost every time your foot drags a little too much and you have to bend your hip to have it go further front. I have nothing to say on your gait, you walk well with a walking stick."
As a first "casual" conversation, that was rather disturbing, but she handled it with such naturel that I finally grabbed a bite of a cucumber and salmon sandwich and spat out all my story. It felt good to talk to someone who wouldn't be judgmental. She understood, and told me how, upon discovering that she'd never be happy with two legs she had changed her name, jumped state lines and started a new life here as a house decorator. (That last bit let me wondering, but hey... who am I to judge, she seems to be living pretty well).
It was well into the night when I felt that sleep was getting the better of me. We were running out of snacks and the conversation had switched to a number of more mundane topics. Abigail was now officially my best friend forever in the world of pretending. My unique one as a matter of fact. Before leaving I wondered.
"Do you ever walk with two legs ?"
Abigail smirked. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do. I could never resort to the extreme and have my leg removed and there is no point in ruining it. I run a couple miles every morning on my treadmill and I often have holidays at the beach in Europe. And sometimes, I go on very special trips with some friends... And then, everything is possible. But it's late. Maybe we can keep the funny stories for you next cup of tea at your place?"
"That's a date !"
