“Do you need help?” Tanner asks.
“Maybe when I’m ready to get him into bed, but I can handle the rest.”
“Just holler,” Tanner says.
Cody begins to type again, and I wait for him to finish before helping him move his wheelchair towards his room.
“I like you you should date my sister,” he says as I press down on his chair’s joystick to move him forward. Tanner coughs out a laugh, and I groan.
“Seriously, dude?” I mutter.
His shoulders shake as a loud cackle erupts from him, and if I didn’t love him so much, I’d kill him.
I help my brother through his night routine, and when we’re finished, and he’s safely sitting in his chair, I call for Tanner.
“I’ve never lifted anyone,” he says, walking into Cody’s room.
“It’s okay. I’ll walk you through it.”
His eyes scan the space and land on Cody’s Funko Pop! collection. “Are these all yours?” he asks.
Cody nods.
“These are sick dude.” He explores the collection for a few minutes. “There’s not a Thor one,” he points out.
“Oh. Is there not?” I ask, shrugging. “I’ve never noticed.”
“I don’t see one.”
He continues to peruse the collection and then pauses in front of a canvas hanging on the wall. “This is a cool painting,” he says. I swallow hard as he studies it.
“Is that you?” he asks while looking over his shoulder toward my brother and pointing at a redheaded boy in the middle of the painting dressed like a superhero.
Cody nods.
I feel myself blush. Tanner doesn’t know I painted it, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever created.
“So then that must be me,” Tanner says, pointing to Thor.
Cody begins laughing, and I can’t help but join in.
“Alright, that’s enough, you two. It’s time for bed,” I say. Tanner joins me next to Cody, and with his help and my instructions, we lift my brother safely into his bed. I tuck the covers tight around him the way I know he likes and place a kiss on his forehead.
“Night, Cody. It was nice to meet you, man,” Tanner says, walking towards the door.
“Night, bud. I love you.”
Cody signs, “I love you,” with his left hand and then closes his eyes.
“Thanks for your help,” I say as we walk out of the room, turning off the lights and closing the door softly.
“I keep trying to tell you we make a good team,” he says. “Just wish you’d believe me.”
I stop in my tracks, not sure how to respond. My eyes find his, and then we both begin to move down the hall.
“Do your parents lift him?” he asks.
“Yeah. Well them or one of his caregivers. He had a lift, but it’s broken, and last I heard, the insurance company denied the claim for a new one.”
