CHAPTER 6: "I Showed Up Anyway" (Avery's Perspective)

"Maybe we should just go home."

Avery gave Neil a look of dread. She'd been struggling with her nerves all day. In theory, she was just going to watch a local team run drills and shoot hoops, but to her it felt like being expected to compete in a national finals match. Without any preparation.

"If you really want to go, we can," said Neil, his voice as comforting as always, "But if there's any part of you that wants to be here then maybe it's worth taking a chance."

Avery exhaled deeply. She knew he was right. The more she'd thought about it the more she did want to be here. Not to play, of course, not even in a practice, but just to be around the game. And that, really, was the problem. She hadn't let herself want anything since the accident. Now she did, the very act of wanting made this terrifying.

"Okay," she said softly. "I guess we should go in."

The team was already practicing when Avery made it inside. Like most wheelchair basketball teams at this level, it was mixed gender. Men and women together passed and chased and blocked. It wasn't that which drew her attention though, but the passion and commitment in every pass and pivot. They were playing hard, even in a practice session.

Avery found herself immediately drawn to the skill and intensity of each player. One woman had the speed to outdistance chasers. One guy was aggressive in the block, yet remained innocent of fouls. Each had a different style--speed, power, precision--but this warm-up session clearly mattered to all of them.

It brought back memories of training meets during the playoffs. Everyone striving to fit, to excel, to make sure they knew how to work with each of their teammates and the team as a whole. But this wasn't the lead-up to any big game. It was just a mid-week workout. It made her pulse race as she pushed herself towards the court.

"Neil!" A middle-aged man, portly and grinning, strode across the gym floor towards them. "And Avery too! Glad you could make it."

"Uncle Frank," said Neil, shaking the man by the hand. "Yeah, we're here. Avery was so eager to come. We've been watching wheelchair basketball games lately and she wanted to see it for herself."

Avery frowned. Was that true? On the one hand, yes, it was, but on the other... On the other it had been him speaking for her that had made her speak up and say she'd come. Still, she was here now and it did feel good. Scary, but good.

"Hey guys, take five!" called out Frank. "I've got someone for you to meet here."

Avery shifted nervously. She hadn't expected to be the center of attention, but it immediately happened. The Hotwheels team turned to face her and suddenly she felt like a moth pinned to a collector's page.

"Who's that?" asked one of the younger players.

She laughed. When she'd been playing college ball she'd rapidly become so popular she couldn't remember when she'd last stepped onto a court without being recognized. Somehow, the lack of recognition felt nice, safe at least.

"Avery Morgan?" She turned to see one woman wheeling towards her. "Did we get a scouting budget, Frank?"

Frank chuckled. "No, Riley, she's here as a guest. I know you've all been wanting Neil to come back, but he's been busy working as Avery's live-in aid so he hasn't been able to. But when I asked Avery to come and she agreed, I figured that was even better."

"You're working as her aid?" asked one guy, whistling. "Damn, man. You must be loving that job."

Avery flinched at the reaction, but turned it into a laugh. "Nah, I'm not all that. Besides, ask him. I run him ragged with things to do."

Neil grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "It's great. She's amazing. I mean really, I don't have that much to do. I'm really lucky."

She gave him a look. She knew she hadn't been easy and had been a wreck when he'd first shown up, but he was insisting on acting like she was the one doing the favor. She wasn't even paying him what the job demanded, though at least he had a free place to live -- even if it was just her old bedroom.

"Hey, Neil," said Frank. "Why don't you bring one of the spare chairs over, let Avery see what it feels like."

"No, that's fin--" she began, but Neil was already on his way to the two spare chairs in the corner of the room. "Neil, no, please. I'm sorry, I don't play anymore."

Several of the team gave her a look suggesting they weren't sure why someone like her would ever give up. A year ago, she'd have felt the same, but things were different now. She felt the weight of their gaze pressing on her. She was letting them down, she was sure of it. Or maybe they thought she was letting herself down.

"I'm not saying you should play the game," said Frank. "Just try the chair. I think you'll be surprised how different it feels from your regular one. It's up to you of course."

She held up her hand. "Ok, ok, I'll do it."

It was easier just to say yes than to object. Besides, Neil was back beside her already. She stared at the thing. She'd noticed some of the differences between her chair and sports chairs when she watched games, but up close they couldn't be more different while still the same basic machine. It was like comparing a station wagon and a formula one racer. They might still be cars, but you'd never use one for the same thing as the other.

The most obvious thing was the wheels - hers were straight up and down, the sports chair's were angled outwards towards the ground. Neil had explained it was about control, but it was only now she saw it that she began to believe it. There were straps too, at the hips, thighs and even feet; something to hold you in during the exertions of sport. It looked lower to the ground than her chair too. She'd never realized just how different the two machines were and now she saw it she found she wanted to compare how they felt.

She positioned herself to make a transfer and carefully did so. At once she felt it. This chair wasn't about comfort. It was about performance. The back rest was too low. There were no arm rests. The leg rest was higher. She took a moment to adjust, realizing that it would quickly become unpleasant to use if it was her regular chair. Somehow it felt more exciting because of that.

"Let me fasten you in," said Neil, reaching down to the straps at her feet.

She was going to stop him, but realized that it would be easier for him to do than her. She wrapped the hip strap around her body and secured it as he moved on to her legs. It gave her a tingly feeling in her groin, something she had certainly not expected from using a different type of chair. She pushed the wheels just slightly and the chair leapt - not rolled. It moved like it wanted something. Her breath caught. She hadn't felt excited like this since the last time she walked onto a court.

"How much are these things?" she asked.

"Depends," said Frank. "A few hundred sometimes, but the really good ones cost thousands. And you DO want a good sports chair, just like any other sporting equipment. I own a wheelchair store, and can source them cheap due to my contacts, but we still need money to buy them. That's where Mary comes in."

One of the women gave her a nod.

"She's a grant writer and a damn good one. We haven't struggled for money since she joined the team."

"That's great," said Avery.

She was already beginning to see how wrong she'd been to write life off so easily when she'd been injured. If people were working professionally, it was stupid to assume there was no hope, no future. It might be harder than for an able-bodied person, but difficulty had never scared her before. The trouble was, she hadn't been ready to hear it back then and had pushed away what little help had been available to her.

"Why don't you take it for a spin - maybe have a roll up and down the court, see how it handles."

She didn't need asking twice. Avery pushed forwards, ready for the chair's reaction this time. She pushed again, building up speed. It was fast, much faster than she had ever gone in her chair, but it felt safe too. Maybe it was the straps, or how tight the thing was around her. Maybe it was the wheels. She wasn't sure, but this felt amazing.

It took seconds to reach the other end of the court. She stopped it quickly too, its light weight making that easier than she'd imagined. Twisting the wheels to turn she oversteered. The chair was too responsive, handled too well. Except, it didn't. She'd just never experienced anything like it before.

She took a moment or two to practice turns, as well as starts and stops. Finally she was ready. She took off again. Halfway up the court she swivelled, perfectly this time, adjusting her grip to take account of the chair's maneuverability. Then she was off again. Back and forth. She was gasping, breathless. She'd gotten so badly out of shape she couldn't possibly keep up like this, but the thrill of the chase was back with her.

"Avery, CATCH!"

Her hands moved before she even saw the ball flying in towards her. When she caught it she just stared at it. Had she really done that? It had been so long since she even touched a ball. But there it was, in her hand. She laughed, thrilling to the sensation.

She set the ball in her lap and swivelled again, pushing forwards. Once, twice. She knew the rules. She'd seen the sport enough now. You could push twice before dribbling, or you committed the foul of traveling - just like taking too many steps in the basketball she used to play.

She bounced the ball, misjudging slightly and hit the base of the wheel. She cursed as the thing rolled away from her, but Mary was already chasing it. She trapped the ball and scooped it up, turning to toss it back. One of the guys got between them, trying to block it, but her throw was too good. Avery caught it and charged forward again.

One push, two. She tossed it back to Mary and received it again a few seconds later.

She was meters from the hoop now and took aim. The ball hit the backboard, rattled the rim, rolled around and came out again. She cursed at her sloppy aim, but this was a completely different angle than she had been used to shooting from and it had been so long since she'd even tried to make a shot. The very fact she got close felt like a reward for finally trying.

"Want to go again?" asked the guy who'd been playing defense.

Avery held up her hand, gasping for breath. She couldn't remember when she'd felt so exhausted, nor so fulfilled, but it was over. She was so out of shape she knew it would take months of training to even feel slightly capable of playing more than a minute or two. Slowly she rolled back towards Frank and Neil as the rest of the team started practicing again.

"How was it?" asked Frank.

"Really good," she responded. "I think my days on the court are probably done, but I'd love to come to practice sometimes if that's okay. Just to have a roll around and relive old times."

"Sure..."

Whatever Frank had been about to say was interrupted as Neil's phone rang.

"Mind if I take this?" he asked as he glanced at his phone. "It's from one of my classmates. They were worried about one of the papers they're working on."

"Sure," said Avery. "Go ahead."

Frank watched as Neil headed to a quiet corner of the gym and turned back to Avery, a worried look on his face. "Hey, can you help me fetch some water for the team?"

She smiled. "No problem," she said. "Glad to help, this has been great."

The two of them headed over to where the water dispensers sat at the far end of the hall. Frank said nothing until they got there and even then checked around to make sure nobody was listening first. He started filling cups and putting them on a tray. He took his time, his face a grim mask like he was bracing for something.

"What is it, Frank?" Avery asked. "I know that look and it isn't just an 'I'm being helpful one.'"

"No, it's not," he sighed. "I love my nephew, he's a decent lad. But I have to ask, has he been ok? Has he been respectful with you?"

Avery laughed. "He's been great, Frank. A real godsend and a good friend too. Hell, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have even come here tonight. I'd pretty much given up."

"That's... good," said Frank. "That he's helping I mean. Just... well..."

"What, you think just 'cause he's a guy and I'm a woman, he's gonna jump me or something? Believe me, nobody thinks of me like that anymore!"

Frank winced. "Yeah, about that... Look, just because you're in a chair doesn't mean you're unattractive you know. Half the people here tonight have long standing relationships. Two others have a date planned for tomorrow and, well, Neil..."

Avery frowned. "Neil what? What about him, Frank?"

He stared at her as if he was trying to puzzle something out. "How do you not see it? Neil's obsessed with you! Has been since you were first shown playing basketball a few years back."

"Oh come on!" sighed Avery. "Don't you think you're exaggerating?"

"No, I don't."

She paused.

Frank was so straightforward it was hard to ignore.

"You know he carries a glamor shot of you right? Well, I say 'glamor'... I think you can guess what I mean."

She laughed. "Now I know you're wrong, I've never posed for a shot like that."

Frank rubbed his forehead. She could see he was stressed, a man trying not to betray someone he cared about, but also not wanting to let something bad fester. She stopped laughing.

"Never said you did," said Frank.

"Then what?"

"Look, I'm just an old guy," said Frank. "I can barely log the team's stats in Google Sheets. But aren't there ways you can make stuff like that up these days. On a computer I mean?"

"deepfakes?" Avery shook her head. "I mean, yeah, there are. There's been lawsuits over it. But Neil would never do anything like that. Not Neil. He's been fine."

Frank's eyes looked pained. "I've seen it, Avery. Saw him looking at it in the wheelchair store when he thought I was in the back checking inventory."

Avery started to object, but stopped. Neil had been great, and he hadn't actually tried anything... but there were times. Moments she'd written off.

She loved the way he worked the knots out of her calves--but there were times it made him hard.

And sometimes when she'd let him help her into bed he'd accidentally and very briefly touched her in intimate places. Only through her clothes and only when adjusting the bedclothes and NEVER for more than a moment. Surely they were just accidents.

And yesterday, when the shower chair tipped and he caught her... Had he held her too close for a moment too long?

It was easy to see it all as just accidents and innocence. Right until you learned he had made a deepfake of you. Glamor shot? She knew there was nothing glamorous about it.

It was true that she was stuck before Neil arrived. If anything she was sinking back into a deeper and deeper depression. And afterwards, she'd had those wistful moments when she wondered what it would be like if he did want her. But there was a difference between starting a relationship, even hooking up for one night, and stealing touches and faking pictures.

She looked toward the other end of the court. Neil was back from his call and talking with the team. As she looked at him, something curdled inside her--guilt, confusion, and something colder. She felt like the deepfake Frank had mentioned - not real, not human, just something to give someone else sexual pleasure.

Avery pivoted to face her own wheelchair, and pushed forward as fast as she could. Tears pressed at her eyes as rage and shock tore through her chest. She needed to be away from here immediately and she hated that to do so she needed Neil. She'd dared to want more, maybe a little, maybe a lot... but now that desire seemed like a trap.

"Avery?" Neil stepped forward as he saw her barrelling forward to the back of the court. "What's wrong?"

She pushed past him, desperate for the safety of her own chair. She grabbed it the moment she reached it--barely remembered to unstrap before trying to transfer. The whole thing went badly. Her hands slipped, her eyes were blurry, her mind a mess. Avery damn near fell as she tried to throw herself into her own chair, bringing back thoughts of the shower incident.

"Avery, what's wrong?" asked Neil. "I'm here, it's okay."

"Just get me out of here!" she snapped at him as she finally made the transfer.

"Ok, ok." Neil said, grabbing the door as she pushed towards it.

He gave his uncle an accusing look, as if demanding to know what he'd done.

The journey home was silent, Neil tried to talk to Avery a couple of times, but she just folded her arms and stared forward. He stopped talking very quickly. It was only when they got inside that Avery rounded on him.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE FUCKING PERVING ON ME?!?"

She was already screaming. Neil shook visibly.

"HOW LONG WERE YOU GOING TO WAIT UNTIL YOU ATTACKED ME OR SOMETHING?!"

"What?" gasped Neil. "No! Avery, I would never..."

"REALLY?! Really? Frank told me you'd got a fucking deepfake sex pic of me!"

The initial rage was gone. At least from her voice. But the way Neil winced as he looked down at the floor told her he'd rather she kept shouting than call him out on that.

"Well?" she glared at him.

"I had one," he said eventually.

"I know you have one," she repeated. "Frank told me!"

Neil shook his head. His voice was breaking as he responded. "Not have. Had. It's no excuse, Avery, and I don't blame you for hating me. I should never have made it. It was wrong. But I ripped it up and threw it away last night."

She snorted. "Yeah right! Why should I ever believe you?"

He shrugged. "You shouldn't, I guess. But I can prove it. I stuck it in the trash."

Avery glared at him. Right now, she didn't trust a word he said, but then why would he say he'd thrown it away if he hadn't? They'd eaten light today so the trash hadn't needed to be taken out. There was one thing he could do.

"Prove it!"

"What?" Neil looked at her. "What do you mean, 'prove it'?"

"Dig it out and show me!"

She wasn't sure what it was that was pushing her to do that. Maybe it was that she wanted him to feel a fraction as dirty as he'd made her feel, even if that meant digging around among kitchen waste. Maybe there was a sick curiosity to see what this deepfake even looked like. Maybe she just wanted confirmation that he had indeed destroyed it, that he'd changed somehow. But even then, she wasn't sure it would make a difference.

Neil looked at the trash and grimaced. "I ripped it into pieces and buried it so it wouldn't be seen," he said.

"And? Don't even try to back out of doing this. It's the fucking least you owe me!"

Neil sighed and grabbed a trash bag from the shelf on the wall. He paused only a moment before removing the trash can lid and then piece by piece began moving garbage from the can to his bag. He was obviously grossed out by it and after what he'd done Avery found herself glad. At least on some level.

She was surprised at how small the pieces were when he managed to find them. Sixteen in total, torn and filthy from the waste they'd been buried in. She made him clean them up and then lay them out on the table.

Then she was staring at it. Her head sat on a body that was very definitely not her own, but was very, very naked. She blinked. It was eerie, creepy, and disturbing. She wasn't even sure she was angry anymore, it was just bizarre and unnerving to see something so real and so fake at the same time. For long moments she just stared.

Finally she rounded on him. "That's not even what I LOOK like!" she snapped.

Neil shrugged. "I know. But it's the best I could do with Art Nudeveu..."

"Art what?" Avery looked at him, puzzled.

He was blushing, the shame evident on his face, his feet sliding away from her. "It-- it's the deepfake AI app I used."

"The deepfake AI..." Avery rubbed her eyes trying to adjust to a world she barely even suspected existed. "Neil, are you telling me you went out and looked for an app just to make a deepfake of me... and didn't even make a realistic one? What the fuck?"

He shrugged. "That's why I only made one."

"Do you think that makes it better somehow?"

"No," he said. "Sorry."

She sighed and looked at the picture again. There was no doubt he'd shredded it and buried it too. It did offer a little reprieve to the betrayal she felt, though not much.

"Why'd you get rid of it?" she asked eventually.

"Because I should never have made it," he said. "I was an idiot, just a dumb teenager with a fantasy about this amazing woman he'd seen on video. Then I moved in here and you were real. You were everything I thought... well, when I wasn't being a stupid asshole... but you were more."

"I was always real," Avery said.

Neil shrugged. "I know. But it's different when you know someone. Like I said I was wrong to do it in the first place."

"So why wait so long to get rid of it?"

"Honestly, I haven't even looked at it since I moved in here. I'd almost forgotten about it. Then when you had that fall and I had to catch you... I wanted more and I knew I was way out of line. So after I helped you into your chair I did what I could to make up for it. Even if it was just destroying this thing."

Avery sighed and slumped in her chair. She wasn't even mad anymore. She was exhausted. Everything flooded her at once -- the excitement about going out, the revelation that the guy she'd been trusting to look after her in intimate ways saw her as a sex object, the fact that he'd tried to fix it even if it had been inept, the realization that she hadn't been wrong about him holding her just a second too long after he'd saved her from the fall... and perhaps most of all just how much she'd come to rely on him and even ponder what if he wanted her. It was all too much, too quickly.

She stared at him for long seconds. He seemed to wilt under her gaze.

"You fucked up, Neil." Her voice shook as she blinked away a threatening tear. "You really fucked up. Why didn't you just say something? I might even have said yes, but now... now I don't even know if I want you around anymore."

Neil bit his lip. He looked completely defeated and ready to give up.

"Go pack your bags," Avery said. "We'll talk tomorrow morning and decide if you should unpack them again."

She stared after him as he left the room. Her eyes flicked back to the picture as his feet trudged upstairs. She wasn't sure which decision she wanted to make. Let him stay? She felt like she'd be admitting needs for more than just an aid. Make him leave? She'd be left alone, without someone she'd come to consider a friend, a needed support, and maybe even more. She could put the decision off for tonight but tomorrow things would change forever.

That terrified her.