Sanctuary of the Heart

“We’re here!” Robert said cheerfully as he stopped the van.  He went to the back and once again helped Dan to get out.

“I – thought – I - told – you – to – stop – being – so – damn – happy!” yelled Dan’s machine. 

Robert motioned Dan toward the house as the torrent of slow insults and commentary continued.  “You – call – this – a – retreat?  This – doesn’t – look – like – anything - more – than – a – slum – house.

“Where’s – the – elevator?” Dan continued.  There were only three stairs to get into the house and there was no ramp visible. 

“That’s the wonder of this house!” Robert explained.  “We don’t need an elevator, mate.”  He took the handles on the back of the wheelchair and without any warning turned it backwards to the stairs and quickly pulled the chair up the three steps before Dan could think of anything for his machine to say.

Robert wheeled Dan inside and shut the door.  “Now, we get to go to work.”  Placing the brake on the wheelchair, Robert moved to the side of the chair and removed the strap that held Dan upright.  As easily as a wrestler throwing his opponent over his head, he lifted Dan out of the wheelchair and sat him in a soft chair opposite.

Dan was speechless.  His eyes grew round with terror as he realized that his last power had been taken from him, his voice.  “Youuuu,” he attempted to speak.  The weak and wavering half word was all that came out.

Robert looked at the wheelchair for a few minutes.  Then he found the toggle that allowed it to fold into half its size.  He hefted the chair into a box that apparently had been set up beforehand.  He closed the box with packing tape and within Dan’s full view, he carried the box addressed to a Goodwill store in Houston and placed it on the porch outside. 

“Zeke will be by later today to take that off.  We don’t need it anymore.”

“Yuuvvvwww,” Dan managed.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked.  He took his baseball cap off and with it came the ponytail.  He had short, brown wavy hair underneath, neatly trimmed. 

Dan’s eyes widened and his mouth hung helplessly on his chest.  Robert turned to face the man who had become a stone.  “Don’t you recognize me, Daniel?”

There were more gurglings coming from Dan’s throat.  Nothing recognizable as language.  Robert walked over to the cupboard and opened a door.  Inside were dozens of dark, amber bottles.  “Good,” he muttered.  “We’re all set to go.”