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Jack parks the car and gets out. At least, Miri is still asleep in her car seat, and he prays it stays that way at least until he finishes assembling her stroller. He barely gets to open to open the trunk before he hears someone shouting behind him, “Hey, asshole!”
He just ignores it for the moment, he has a sick baby, he feels the mother of all headaches coming in and now is not the time to insert himself in an altercation between two probable idiots. His feelings about it change when he hears someone walking towards him. He tenses immediately, turning towards the noise. He sees quite an imposing man, who looks angry, a righteous kind of anger, with a woman farther away, probably his wife or girlfriend going by her mortified expression.
“Yeah, you, asshole! What the fuck are you doing parking in that spot? Some people really need it!” Ah, well. He was right about the stupidity of at least one person in said altercation. He looks briefly towards the sky – asking a god he didn’t even believe him to grant him patience – before looking back at the guy, trying to infuse some of his now-is-not-the-time-to-mess-with-me feelings in his voice and expression, “Look man, just return to your wife or girlfriend or whatever and leave me the fuck alone.” He hopes, for both his and this guy’s sake, that it will be enough. Today is not the day to test him. Not-so-surprisingly for such a pristine specimen of self-righteous asshole: it is not enough.
“What, you take this spot from someone who needs it just because you’re lazy and you want me to ignore it, jackass!? I…”
That random guy was going on his – frankly uninspired – rant, but in one smooth movement, Jack sat on the trunk of the car. It was the work of barely two seconds to raise his pant leg and unlatch the suction mechanism of his prosthetic. As soon at his prosthetic was detached, Jack brandished his leg in the air like a sports fan would a flag when his team was about to win; a bit rabid and with two much frantic energy. He was lucky his leg was solid. He, as one can gather, was done being polite, “Am I fucking disabled enough for you, you asshole? What are you anyway, the disabled police!? Think that if you defend those blue parking spots with all your fucking might, “real” disabled people are going to come out of the woodwork to thank you and kiss your fucking feet!? Oh, thank you mister, I don’t know what I would have done without you! Is that it!?” His voice got progressively louder the more he progressed, still seated in his trunk – though moving with such energy the car was moving with him – and still brandishing his leg as if his favorite team was about to score a goal. The guy, meanwhile, got progressively redder, whether from shame or anger it made little difference in Jack’s eyes, and that woman behind him seemed to want to floor to swallow her whole. Well, it looked like nobody got their goddamn wish today, because Jack was not finished, “Do you want a new job, dumbass!? Maybe be in the fucking placard committee to see if my leg hasn’t grown the fuck back every few years!”
And… yep. That’s the sound of a crying baby from the back seat of his car. As soon as she heard the baby, the woman got even redder, if it was possible, and just walked away, probably to their car. Luckily for her, stupid isn’t contagious. The guy, seeing his girlfriend or wife or whatever-the-fuck-they-are-to-each-other leave, hearing the baby from the car – strong lungs – and realising that he suddenly found himself thoroughly chastised, without support and with the baby equivalent of a tsunami siren as a soundtrack, just threw a “Well, no need to be rude,” towards Jack and followed the woman, faster than general walking speed.
Jack made a conscious effort to keep his leg in his hands for a moment, at least until he couldn’t see the guy anymore, and just breathe for a bit. Because, if he had both legs, that guy would only discover how high medical and dental surgery bills could get in this dumpster fire of a country. But he can’t. His Mishka is not there, and his very much crying daughter is strapped in her car seat. At least the trunk his open and the stroller will be easily assembled. Small mercies.
He takes another breath or two before moving and putting his leg back on. He finally takes the stroller out of the trunk and assembles it before going to the side door to finally unstrap the crying baby from her seat. He shushes her while taking her into his arms and begins to rock her a little bit, “I am so sorry you had to hear that, my Miri, my little love. But Papa really had to deal with an asshole.”
well, at least she calmed down when she heard him speak in the tone he reserved only for her, “yes, little love, a huge asshole,” he says, saying that last word in an exaggerated way with the sort of grimace you reserve for babies, calming her a little more. “But don’t tell Abba I said a bad word, please.” Miriam’s only making small whimpering sounds now, which can be as much because of the excitement of the day or because of the slight teething fever she had going on. He begins strapping her in the stroller, making sure she had all the necessary comfort objects near her, “If Abba asks though, you have to make sure he knows that guy deserved to be called that,” he stops, looks at his child way too seriously considering she’s still more akin to a small potato with the capacity to eat, shit and sleep than a human, and adds, “Deal?” Miriam chooses that exact moment to make a gurgling sound, which makes Jack quirk a smile, “Yeah, thought so, Miri. Knew I could count on you.” He begins pushing the stroller to the store, keeping his eyes on both the cars in there and his child, “Let’s go grocery shopping now, little love, so Abba doesn’t come back to a deserted kitchen.”
***
Miriam was finally asleep in her crib and Jack was sitting comfortably on the couch, his wheelchair beside him if he needed a quick transfert to go to his girl. He was listening to Michael drone on about what was happening at the conference - let's be real, it was mostly gossip - and taking a sip of his beer every couple of minutes. Michael finally exhausted the gossip fountain and, after a few moments of silence, asked, "You told me Miri was doing well, all things considered, but what about you? Are you good?"
Jack looked at the ceiling for a bit, drank a bit of his beer, and then, finally, answered, "Oh. Nothing much. Might have tested the solidity of my leg in the grocery store parking lot today."
Robby stayed silent for a little bit, an eyebrow slightly raised, "Oh? Did you maim someone bashert?"
"Nope," said Jack, popping the P sound, "though I really wanted to, but Miri was there."
"Well, good. They probably deserved whatever you did."
Jack gives Robby a humorless smile, "Yeah. Yeah, they did."