Frosting Is Always A Little Too Sweet

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Zeldi, happy birthday to you!”

The large chocolate cake was set before me, and I laughed, smiling as I reached for a knife.

My hair fell down around my shoulders, a shock of purple and blue against my tan skin, though I knew the brown roots would be showing already, I need to get it re-done. I picked up the knife and expertly cut three pieces, sliding them onto plates. I then put them on my lap, reaching over and grasping at the handrim of the large spoked wheel beneath me.

I rolled over to my two guests, my younger brother Varin and my best friend Alicia. I handed them their slices of cake, taking my own and stuffing it in my mouth. Varin laughed and copied me, but Alicia rolled her eyes. I know she doesn’t think lack of manners is funny, I don’t care though.

I finished licking the chocolate frosting off the tips of my fingers, practically feeling the extra sugary substance rotting my teeth. I made a note to clean my gloves later, before rolling myself over to the couch, where we could open presents. I had more than just two, even if I only had two guests. My physical therapist sent one, and Varin’s inventor friend Sharlen sent one over. I also had one from Alicia’s mysterious new girlfriend, who I’m questioning exists.

I rolled to a stop and swiveled the chair, laughing with my friends as Varin piled the five gifts in front of me, and I grabbed his and his friend’s first. They were both new parts for my chair. Wheel covers with dragon designs on them, and a new fire-shaped pin to go on the pouch attached to the back.

Alicia and her girlfriend’s gifts came next. A bookbag-like pouch for the chair and… tools. I glanced at Alicia, who blushed and apologized. Apparently, her girlfriend might have confused Varin and I. I shrugged it off and passed him the tools, no reason to let them go to waste.

My physical therapists’ gift was a ticket to a play I enjoyed, which included a note emphasizing the theater had elevator access. That was… pretty sweet of them. I clenched the note in my hand, then rolled out to the porch with one hand.

To be honest, I can’t bear it when they do things like this. When people look at me, I know all they see is a tragedy. They call me an inspiration. Special. A beautiful disaster. The words sound sympathetic and supportive, but I know what they really mean.

You’re different. You’re something that needs to be fixed but can’t be.

I lifted my hand and unclenched my fist, revealing the now crumpled note. I just wonder why I don’t see more people like me. I know Alicia has similar complaints about the lack of media with good LGBTQIA+ representation, but to me, it’s just not the same.

How come there’s no Disney princess in a chair? How come there’s never been a real wheelchair among a cast of Broadway performers? What makes it so bad for there to be one? It’s not like we’re any less human, it’s not like we can’t do the same things a person with working legs can.

I don’t understand it, but that won’t stop me from trying to change it.

The note from my therapist was the last straw for me. I know that all they were trying to do was give me a sweet present, but the elevator made it seem like they’re not trying to help me. They just want me to take the easy way out. But that’s the last thing I’m going to do.

I stared down at it with disdain. The note is stained with chocolate from the cake frosting. I tentatively licked some off the note.

I've never noticed before, but I wonder why cake frosting is always a little too sweet.