Fast Times at Barrington High Inspired Fiction Contest
Name of story: So Naive
Penname: chloe
FTABH Song Inspiration: Every Burden Has a Version
Fiction or Fan Fiction: Fan Fiction?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Academy Is… or anything else in this story.
well it took me long enough to post this. sorry! I wrote it over the summer, and after reading it for the first time since then, i don't think it is very good. haha oh well.
Hearing the heavy traffic fly by me had been a relief. It was so much better than the shouting and hitting and crying I constantly heard at home. But now it was quiet. And dark. The occasional truck that drove by continued on with out even slowing down. Apparently my thumbs up and I were invisible to the people driving by.
Yesterday was it. I was done. I packed up my things and left in a hurry, although I had no idea where I was going. My dad, who was far from sober at the time, didn’t even attempt to stop me. My mom left when I was little, and my brother died last year in a car crash. No one wanted me to stay at home; I didn’t want to stay. I longed to get out of the small town of Millvale, PA. The only thing I would miss about that place was Mr. Smalls Funhouse. It’s thanks to that old church-turned-venue that I’ve lasted this long in that town. I got to grow up and experience the music scene because of that place. I learned to play piano, guitar, and drums in that place. I met local unheard of bands in that venue, and, when I was lucky enough, I met slightly more famous musicians. That place was more of a home than my own house was.
Yet here I am walking west on the PA Turnpike towards the Ohio border with a guitar case filled with clothes, a set of drum sticks and $57.55. My ancient car that hadn’t been driven in over a year broke down about 30 minutes after I left my house. I slept in it last night, and began walking towards my destination, although I had no idea what that even was. I saw the first pair of headlights in several minutes shine ahead of me into the darkness. I waited for the car to pass, but it never did, so I turned around and saw a white van parked behind me on the side of the highway. Shit, I thought, these were the types of vans that creepy rapist people drive. Or carpenters. They drive those vans, too.
An extremely tall, skinny guy got out of the driver’s side. I stopped in my tracks, my thumb still in the air signaling for a ride. I was frozen, not sure whether to be scared or relieved.
“You need a lift?” said a soft voice.
“Uh,” I said, not sure whether to accept the ride. “Yeah. Who are you?”
“Bill. I saw you walking along the road. Aren’t you a little young to be hitch hiking?”
Creep much?
“Yeah, I asked who you were,” I said, deciding not to ride with this guy unless he sounded legitimately normal.
“Bill Beckett. I’m heading home with my band to Chicago, you need a lift somewhere?” Oh, a musician, it was all ok then.
“Yes.” I was oh so thankful.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“I don’t really know. I just have to get past the PA border, then you can drop me off wherever you want.”
He shrugged and motioned for me to get in the passenger door.
The van smelled like Ferbreze, pizza, and stale smoke. There were 5 other guys in the van, all of them asleep except a guy in the back watching a DVD on his laptop.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“The rest of the band. Is there a guitar in that case?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well do you play guitar?”
“Yeah.” No need to tell this guy my life story.
He nodded, started the van and began to drive.
My cell phone, whose battery was nearly drained, rang loudly. I looked at the called ID and sighed. I swore to myself this would be the last time I’d ever talk to this guy.
“Hello?”
“Where are you.” It wasn’t a question, rather more of a statement.
“Dad, I left. Please don’t call me.”
“You’re not even 18 yet. I could get you in trouble for so many things. You stole my goddamn car.”
“I bought the car. It’s mine. Before yesterday it hasn’t even been driven in over a year.” My voice was uncharacteristically monotone as I struggled to hold back tears.
“Alexis Molly Greene, I could call the cops on you.”
“First, that’s not even my middle name, but good try. And second, you don’t even know where I am. If you call the cops on me, I’ll just tell them everything you’ve ever done to me and you’ll get thrown in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
I shut my phone and took a deep breath. I sat up and glanced sideways, realizing Bill had just heard everything I said. I turned around to see the other guys awake staring at me.
“Uh guys, this is Alexis,” said Bill. “She needed a ride...so yeah.”
I was still mortified. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“It’s no problem,” muttered Bill. “Introduce yourselves.”
“Mike”
“Tom”
“Jack. I’m not in the band, just tagging along.”
“Adam T. Siska”
“Butcher”
I raised an eyebrow at that last one.
“Yeah, that’s what they call me,” said the skinny, shirtless, tattooed guy in the back.
“So who even are you?” asked the guy named Tom.
“Alexis.”
“But like who are you? Where are you from? Why are you riding with us? Why were you so upset on the phone?”
I just shrugged and didn’t answer. Instead I closed my eyes and wished for sleep to take over. Eventually it came.
I opened my eyes and panicked. A face was peering into mine. Two dark eyes blinked and a smile stretched across the face.
“We’re stopping for food.”
I looked at my surroundings. A Denny’s and a BP gas station.
“Are we outside of Pennsylvania?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, we’re in central Ohio somewhere. A few hours from Chicago.”
I nodded, got my guitar case, and climbed out of the car. I turned my head to see where exactly I was. Shrugging my shoulders slightly, I began walking toward the road and said, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait!”
I stopped and turned around. William was standing there with his hands in his front jeans pockets.
“Where are you going? It’s like 5 a.m. and we’re not in Chicago yet.”
I cocked an eyebrow and asked, “So?”
“So?” he asked. “So, I’m not going to let a sixteen year old girl walk alone on a highway in the middle of Ohio. At least come to Chicago with us and let me help you find a place to stay.”
“First of all, I just turned 18 yesterday afternoon. Second, I don’t need a pity party. I’m used to being on my own. I like it better on my own.”
“Well happy birthday, and I’m not going to let you go until we get to Chicago. I’ll use force if necessary.”
I knew he was joking, but the reference to physically forcing me to do anything made me automatically shut him out.
He noticed my change in demeanor and said, “I was only kidding. I wouldn’t ever actually hurt you.”
I nodded and walked back to the van, setting my case down and getting out money. Without looking Bill’s way, I went inside to Denny’s and sat down in a booth with the rest of the guys…Bad idea. They all began asking me questions:
“Who are you?”
“Where are you from?”
“Why are you hitch hiking?”
“Why were you upset on the phone?”
“What did your dad do to you?”
I looked at them all, unsure of what to do. They all looked back at me intently, expecting me to answer each question in great detail. The silence lasted for a full thirty seconds before Bill came and sat down with us.
“Why is everyone looking at Alexis?” he asked.
They all repeated their questions, only this time they were directed at William.
He shrugged and said, “I don’t know anymore about her than you do.”
He looked at me, apparently expecting me to explain to them, complete strangers, why I was in this current situation.
I shrugged again and looked down, fidgeting with my napkin. I looked back up and saw they were still staring at me. I might as well get this over with.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Four Things - Chapter 4
A/N – Yes, I actually updated this story. For the longest time I couldn’t think of what to write next. I had no ideas at all. Then the other night in the middle of the night, this entire chapter came to me and I just had to post it asap. Thanks for sticking with me everyone. I really appreciate it!
Chapter 4
William looked at the clock. It was 2:13 on Thursday and he was waiting for Micaela to show up. His stomach flipped and he couldn’t stand the anxiety of waiting for her any longer. He hadn’t seen her since she shot down his proposal to go out when he got out of the hospital, and he wished that he wouldn’t have to see her at all during the rest of his stay. At 2:14, Mica walked in.
“Sorry,” her cheeks were flushed and she was holding a notepad and a folder, “I got caught up in care conference. They wouldn’t let me go until just a minute ago.”
“That’s okay,” William could barely look her in the eye.
“Okay Will, are you excited to be getting out of here?” She was acting like nothing had happened between them and he couldn’t stand it. It seemed so easy for her to ignore everything.
“Sure,” he answered.
“I heard your leg is pretty much completely healed, and your arm and hand are following close behind that. You’ve talked to Rich, your Physical Therapist about continuing treatment at home, right?”
William nodded.
“Great! So I’ve gone ahead and thought of a couple activities that you did before you accident and you can do again now that you’re almost completely healed, but they would be in group settings so that your progress would still be monitored.”
“But most of my activities were solo or just with my friends.”
“And you can still do those activities, but we’re adding some therapeutic sessions. For instance, a lot of local universities that have Music Therapy majors are always looking for people like you. You’re in a band, you can play a few instruments and teach them some stuff about music, but at the same time, you’re providing yourself as an example. Students will work with you and assess your progress and learn how to work with patients outside of a clinical setting.”
“Well that doesn’t sound too bad. As long as there aren’t any crazy fans.”
“I don’t know if there’s a way to guarantee that, but its benefits far outweigh its drawbacks. You’ll be getting therapy basically just by having a jam session with some college kids.” She handed William the folder and he opened it to find packets of information and brochures for different activities and recreation centers. “While I’m in this room with you, I want you to chose at least one other option, besides the music therapy program, that looks good to you and that you’d be willing to pursue once you left here. We can discuss it and maybe even get you in contact with someone from the program.”
William searched for a while spending a lot of time mulling over the different options and finally choosing one, “This looks fun,” he held up a brochure for the Chicago Park District and it showed a number of activities that they offered from sports to visual arts and social groups. “I would do the sports, of course,” he clarified to Mica as if he were almost mortified to think that she would believe he would do anything other then that.
“That’s good. Sports will help build the strength back up in your arm and leg, and they have a great variety there.” She told him the website and they logged onto it and explored it together, and William made a promise to contact them about program availability when he got out.
They were laughing and joking around and having a good time looking at the funny pictures of people when William sprung another surprise question on her, “Mica, why don’t you want to go out with me?”
She looked shocked and her jaw fell open. She didn’t know what to tell him so she decided to go with the truth, “William, I can’t date you because you’re my patient. I know everything about you – all of your medical history. I wouldn’t feel right knowing that information about you in a social setting.”
“Oh,” Will sighed. He was relieved that it wasn’t him, but merely the fact that he was her patient. His mind started working a mile a minute trying to work out a way to get her to ignore her own personal hang-ups enough to give him a chance.
Micaela looked at her watch, “I should probably go. I’m supposed to meet with Dorit for some one-to-one arts and crafts. I’ll check back with you tomorrow morning to see if you have any questions and to say goodbye.”
“Alright, see you then,” William managed to get out. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything except the wheels turning in his head that were trying to figure out a way to convince her to go on a date.
*****
Micaela entered Dorit’s room to find her hunched over an old photo album. “Hey Dorit. What have you got there?” she asked.
The elderly woman turned toward her and patted the chair next to her with a heavily wrinkled and veined hand, “Adam said he wanted to see pictures of me when I was young. I told him I would find them and have them for later today when he visits me, but I started looking through and I lost track of time. So many memories…” she trailed off as she focused in on one of the pictures.
Mica noticed the state of the old photo album and it saddened her. She could tell it was very old because half of the pages were ripping out and most of the plastic was torn off or yellow with age. An idea occurred to her, “Dorit, I just had an idea for an arts and crafts project.”
“Yeah?” Dorit asked without looking up.
“Why don’t we make you a new photo album. I have some new albums upstairs and I could grab one and we could start working on it right now.”
Dorit looked skeptical, “I don’t want it to look like one of those themed things. What are they calling them? Scrapbooks? I just want a plain photo album.”
“That’s fine, but in order for it to be arts and crafts we have to do something arty to it, like decorate the cover.”
“That will be fine. As long as I can put my pictures in it first; that’s what really matters.”
“Yeah, of course Dorit,” Mica said standing up, “I’ll go get an album now. I’ll be right back.” Mica ran upstairs and grabbed an album from a shelf in the arts and crafts closet, along with some fabric paints, stencils, ribbons, glue-on gems, glue and scissors, and headed back to Dorit’s room. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Dorit confirmed.
The two woman sat at Dorit’s little table working together to transfer all of the pictures from the old photo album to the new. It was taking an extremely long time, as Dorit felt the need to tell the story behind each picture, but Micaela didn’t mind. In fact, hearing people’s life stories was one of the great things about working with the elderly.
Dorit flipped the page and pulled one of the pictures out without looking at it first. When she did look down, her eyes became sad and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown, “This was a sad time for me,” she whispered.
Mica tried to get a look at the picture, but Dorit was holding it to her heart with her eyes closed, “What happened?”
“Oh, it was just so upsetting. My best friend…killed by her own husband.” She sat for a moment, seeming to contemplate the story, choosing her words carefully before continuing. “She was very troubled. Her husband was such a kind man, but he was never home. He had to work long hours to support them, but even his double shifts wouldn’t make him enough money to pay the rent and pay for groceries. It caused her so much strife. She wanted to work, but he was too proud and wouldn’t let her. I offered her money, because even though I didn’t have a lot, I had a little extra, but she wouldn’t take it. She wanted to earn her money in a decent way, and asked the landlord if he needed any work done. He ended up raping her. I was the only one she told, and I kept it inside. I should’ve told someone else, the police, or my husband, or even hers, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I was young and stupid and believed that a promise was never to be broken. One night her husband must’ve walked in on it happening, because all we knew was the his wife and the landlord were found dead with no clothes on, and he put a bullet through his brain only a few moments later. I heard the shots. I called the police,” a tear dropped down Dorit’s face, “No one would’ve ever expected sweet Walter to do such a thing. They were so in love…”
“You said his name was Walter?” The name rang a bell to Mica and the story seemed oddly familiar.
“Yes. It was Spring of 1931. His name was Walter Brennan and she was Mary Brennan.” Dorit dropped the picture onto the table to reveal two couples laughing and playing cards. One was obviously Dorit, and her husband had his arm around her. As Micaela focused in on the other couple, she lost her breath completely. Across from Dorit and her husband, sporting 1930’s fashion and hair styles, sat a black and white spitting image of Micaela. The man next to her with his arm around her was a man who looked exactly like William.
Chapter 4
William looked at the clock. It was 2:13 on Thursday and he was waiting for Micaela to show up. His stomach flipped and he couldn’t stand the anxiety of waiting for her any longer. He hadn’t seen her since she shot down his proposal to go out when he got out of the hospital, and he wished that he wouldn’t have to see her at all during the rest of his stay. At 2:14, Mica walked in.
“Sorry,” her cheeks were flushed and she was holding a notepad and a folder, “I got caught up in care conference. They wouldn’t let me go until just a minute ago.”
“That’s okay,” William could barely look her in the eye.
“Okay Will, are you excited to be getting out of here?” She was acting like nothing had happened between them and he couldn’t stand it. It seemed so easy for her to ignore everything.
“Sure,” he answered.
“I heard your leg is pretty much completely healed, and your arm and hand are following close behind that. You’ve talked to Rich, your Physical Therapist about continuing treatment at home, right?”
William nodded.
“Great! So I’ve gone ahead and thought of a couple activities that you did before you accident and you can do again now that you’re almost completely healed, but they would be in group settings so that your progress would still be monitored.”
“But most of my activities were solo or just with my friends.”
“And you can still do those activities, but we’re adding some therapeutic sessions. For instance, a lot of local universities that have Music Therapy majors are always looking for people like you. You’re in a band, you can play a few instruments and teach them some stuff about music, but at the same time, you’re providing yourself as an example. Students will work with you and assess your progress and learn how to work with patients outside of a clinical setting.”
“Well that doesn’t sound too bad. As long as there aren’t any crazy fans.”
“I don’t know if there’s a way to guarantee that, but its benefits far outweigh its drawbacks. You’ll be getting therapy basically just by having a jam session with some college kids.” She handed William the folder and he opened it to find packets of information and brochures for different activities and recreation centers. “While I’m in this room with you, I want you to chose at least one other option, besides the music therapy program, that looks good to you and that you’d be willing to pursue once you left here. We can discuss it and maybe even get you in contact with someone from the program.”
William searched for a while spending a lot of time mulling over the different options and finally choosing one, “This looks fun,” he held up a brochure for the Chicago Park District and it showed a number of activities that they offered from sports to visual arts and social groups. “I would do the sports, of course,” he clarified to Mica as if he were almost mortified to think that she would believe he would do anything other then that.
“That’s good. Sports will help build the strength back up in your arm and leg, and they have a great variety there.” She told him the website and they logged onto it and explored it together, and William made a promise to contact them about program availability when he got out.
They were laughing and joking around and having a good time looking at the funny pictures of people when William sprung another surprise question on her, “Mica, why don’t you want to go out with me?”
She looked shocked and her jaw fell open. She didn’t know what to tell him so she decided to go with the truth, “William, I can’t date you because you’re my patient. I know everything about you – all of your medical history. I wouldn’t feel right knowing that information about you in a social setting.”
“Oh,” Will sighed. He was relieved that it wasn’t him, but merely the fact that he was her patient. His mind started working a mile a minute trying to work out a way to get her to ignore her own personal hang-ups enough to give him a chance.
Micaela looked at her watch, “I should probably go. I’m supposed to meet with Dorit for some one-to-one arts and crafts. I’ll check back with you tomorrow morning to see if you have any questions and to say goodbye.”
“Alright, see you then,” William managed to get out. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything except the wheels turning in his head that were trying to figure out a way to convince her to go on a date.
*****
Micaela entered Dorit’s room to find her hunched over an old photo album. “Hey Dorit. What have you got there?” she asked.
The elderly woman turned toward her and patted the chair next to her with a heavily wrinkled and veined hand, “Adam said he wanted to see pictures of me when I was young. I told him I would find them and have them for later today when he visits me, but I started looking through and I lost track of time. So many memories…” she trailed off as she focused in on one of the pictures.
Mica noticed the state of the old photo album and it saddened her. She could tell it was very old because half of the pages were ripping out and most of the plastic was torn off or yellow with age. An idea occurred to her, “Dorit, I just had an idea for an arts and crafts project.”
“Yeah?” Dorit asked without looking up.
“Why don’t we make you a new photo album. I have some new albums upstairs and I could grab one and we could start working on it right now.”
Dorit looked skeptical, “I don’t want it to look like one of those themed things. What are they calling them? Scrapbooks? I just want a plain photo album.”
“That’s fine, but in order for it to be arts and crafts we have to do something arty to it, like decorate the cover.”
“That will be fine. As long as I can put my pictures in it first; that’s what really matters.”
“Yeah, of course Dorit,” Mica said standing up, “I’ll go get an album now. I’ll be right back.” Mica ran upstairs and grabbed an album from a shelf in the arts and crafts closet, along with some fabric paints, stencils, ribbons, glue-on gems, glue and scissors, and headed back to Dorit’s room. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Dorit confirmed.
The two woman sat at Dorit’s little table working together to transfer all of the pictures from the old photo album to the new. It was taking an extremely long time, as Dorit felt the need to tell the story behind each picture, but Micaela didn’t mind. In fact, hearing people’s life stories was one of the great things about working with the elderly.
Dorit flipped the page and pulled one of the pictures out without looking at it first. When she did look down, her eyes became sad and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown, “This was a sad time for me,” she whispered.
Mica tried to get a look at the picture, but Dorit was holding it to her heart with her eyes closed, “What happened?”
“Oh, it was just so upsetting. My best friend…killed by her own husband.” She sat for a moment, seeming to contemplate the story, choosing her words carefully before continuing. “She was very troubled. Her husband was such a kind man, but he was never home. He had to work long hours to support them, but even his double shifts wouldn’t make him enough money to pay the rent and pay for groceries. It caused her so much strife. She wanted to work, but he was too proud and wouldn’t let her. I offered her money, because even though I didn’t have a lot, I had a little extra, but she wouldn’t take it. She wanted to earn her money in a decent way, and asked the landlord if he needed any work done. He ended up raping her. I was the only one she told, and I kept it inside. I should’ve told someone else, the police, or my husband, or even hers, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I was young and stupid and believed that a promise was never to be broken. One night her husband must’ve walked in on it happening, because all we knew was the his wife and the landlord were found dead with no clothes on, and he put a bullet through his brain only a few moments later. I heard the shots. I called the police,” a tear dropped down Dorit’s face, “No one would’ve ever expected sweet Walter to do such a thing. They were so in love…”
“You said his name was Walter?” The name rang a bell to Mica and the story seemed oddly familiar.
“Yes. It was Spring of 1931. His name was Walter Brennan and she was Mary Brennan.” Dorit dropped the picture onto the table to reveal two couples laughing and playing cards. One was obviously Dorit, and her husband had his arm around her. As Micaela focused in on the other couple, she lost her breath completely. Across from Dorit and her husband, sporting 1930’s fashion and hair styles, sat a black and white spitting image of Micaela. The man next to her with his arm around her was a man who looked exactly like William.
The Four Things - Chapter 3
A/N - Thanks so much for all the reviews guys. See how fast I updated - Thanks in part to all your great reviews (and also because I'm procrastinating on EVERYTHING).
Chapter 3
“Seriously Dude? Seriously? You’re seriously going to go to a club where they’re knitting?”
Will nodded, “Seriously Sisky. It’s my therapy so if you want to be a douchebag about it then maybe you should go home.”
“I would rather have broken limbs forever then go to knitting group. Do you even know how to knit?”
“I’m learning,” William pointed to a sunny spot near the windows where some of the other patients were already gathered. Sisky pushed his wheelchair up to the group, spotting a balding, somewhat overweight man, and a bunch of older and middle aged women. “Pull me up over there,” Will gestured to a younger woman with auburn hair sitting by herself in a seat by the windows. A folder and a bunch of papers were scattered all over a little table in front of her. A yellow lumpy thing lay off to the side and Sisky realized that it was her abandoned knitting project.
“I see why you are to this group now,” Sisky looked up at the pale freckled woman with her large green eyes and wavy hair. She was beautiful in that natural, earthy, no-make sort of way. “Is she the reason you broke up with Jamie?”
“No, I told you; Jamie initiated our break up, not me.”
“Yeah, but was she the reason?” Sisky taunted.
William glared at him, “I actually kinda miss Jamie and it’s only been a few hours. How do you miss someone who made it their life’s mission to make you miserable?”
“Maybe it’s like that thing where the girl who’s taken hostage falls for the guy who kidnapped her,” Sisky laughed as he pulled the wheelchair up next to Micaela and then pulled a chair up next to Will and sat down.
“Whatcha doin’?” Will asked Micaela.
“Paperwork,” she didn’t even look up at him, “George can help you if you need any help.”
“Oh,” Will’s face fell. He looked up at George and saw him helping someone else, “He’s busy.”
“Well he’ll be done shortly and then he can help you.”
“But I don’t like it when he does it. I only like it your way,” Will whined and Sisky shook his head suppressing laughter at what an ass his friend was making out of himself.
Micaela looked up at him and sighed, “Okay where’s your needles?” He held them up, still with the pout on his face. “Where’s your yarn?” he held up a tangled skein of dark blue, now his pout turning into a goofy smile. “I’ll help you cast on, but then you’re on your own.” She went to work showing him how to knit while Sisky sat next to them, totally spacing out.
“Young man,” an elderly voice addressed him and he looked up to see an older woman standing over him. Well, not that much over him, as she was only about 2 inches taller then he was while she was standing up and he was sitting down. “Hold this for me while I sit in my chair,” She handed him a skein of baby pink yarn and then pulled the chair up behind her. “What are you here for?” she asked him bluntly.
“Oh, I’m not a patient. I’m just visiting my friend Bill.”
She smiled, “Ah, William. He’s a bit odd that boy. He goes to all the women’s groups just because he’s got the hots for Mica.”
Sisky laughed, “Yeah, he’s a weirdo. Why are you here?”
“I’m here so that they can teach me about how to have a healthy lifestyle.” He looked at her confused. “My insurance company is forcing me to spend extra time hear because this was my third minor heart attack, but I’ll be one hundred next month and I’m still walking, so I must be doing something right.”
“What does a heart attack feel like?” Sisky asked and then immediately regretting it. Why would he make this woman relive such a horrible time in her life.
“It felt damn good.” She laughed at Sisky’s surprised face, “I was having sex.”
His eyes widened even more, “well was it worth it?”
“Oh yeah. It was, what do you youngin’s say? Hot?” Sisky nodded and laughed. “I would do it again in a heartbeat,” she howled with laughter at Sisky’s mortified face, “Forgive the pun. Of course Ray feels just awful about it, but he can’t help it that he’s an Italian Stallion.”
“Is Ray your husband?”
“No. My husband died over thirty years ago, and I spent a good ten years mourning his death and then I realized that I had to get back out there and enjoy my life. It’s what he would’ve wanted. And I’m lucky because Ray’s a younger man.”
“Oh yeah?” Sisky was amused by the woman’s demeanor.
“Yeah he’s eighty. That mean’s I was 19 when he was born, but that’s okay. The younger the better. In fact, you’re pretty cute,” she laughed again at the semi-horrified look on Sisky’s face, “I meant it in a different way then you think. I meant that you’re cute like my great grandson. I’m Dorit by the way.”
She held out her hand and he took it. She gave it a good firm shake, “I’m Adam,” he smiled. He couldn’t help but admire her spunk.
*****
2 weeks later
“You’re improving,” Micaela sat down on the edge of William’s bed, while he sat across from her in the chair, “I talked to your doctor, your social worker, and your physical therapist this morning and they said you should be ready to leave by the end of the week.”
“That’s great,” William looked at her and his expression showed that he thought it was anything but great.
“It is great. You’ll be healed before you know it. You can get back to work with your music, and maybe next fall you’ll be back into touring again with your band. You’ve made great progress since you were here and the doctor said that it’s probably because of all of the Recreation Therapy you’ve been doing. You’ve been attending two to three groups per day, afterall.”
“Sure,” Will said, immediately regretting going to all of those groups. He didn’t want to leave. He was finally able to see what he truly wanted and it wasn’t to leave the facility, it was to spend as much time with Mica as possible.
“So I want to set up a meeting with you toward the end of the week where we can discuss activities that you can keep doing when you get out of the facility so that you can keep getting better and better.”
“Okay,” he looked down at his hands.
“How about Thursday afternoon? If you leave on Friday afternoon, that will give you plenty of time to ask me some questions if you think of them after our meeting.”
“Whatever you want,” he swept his hair out of his face with his good hand.
“Okay, Thursday at two then.” She got off of the bed and headed to the door.
“Micaela wait!” Will shouted panicked.
“What is it William?”
“Do you think maybe you could go out with me sometime?”
She looked down at her hands embarrassed, “No, I’m sorry William. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t date my patients. We have a patient-therapist relationship and it needs to stay that way.”
“No it doesn’t. You’re not my psychiatrist. There are no rules in Recreation Therapy that say you can’t date me when I leave here.”
“You’re right. There’s not, but I wouldn’t feel right about it. It’s a personal policy.”
Will couldn’t look her in the eyes, “Oh. Well okay then.” He felt totally embarrassed.
“I’m going to go now William, but I’ll see you later,” she turned and left the room, leaving him there alone and thinking about how foolish he’d been to even ask her.
“Hey!” Sisky entered the room cheerily with Mike close behind him.
“You guys said you’d be here at two. It’s almost three now!” Will said aggravated. He really didn’t care about what time his friends came, he was just angry about Mica not accepting his invite.
“What the hell are you, the time nazi?” Mike glared at him.
“We took a detour coming here. I took Mike to go see Dorit,” Sisky said with a huge smile on his face, “Doesn’t she totally rock for an old woman?”
“Yeah, she was the shit!” Mike gave Sisky a high five and Will rolled his eyes. Sisky had been to visit almost every day for the past two weeks, but he always spent more time hanging out with Dorit then with Will.
“Mica said she wouldn’t go out with me,” Will slumped in his chair.
“So that’s why you’re all bitter and worried about the time,” Sisky sat next to him and patted his shoulder, “it’s not really a surprise though.”
“What the hell? Of course it is! She spends every day with me!”
“Only because you choose to go to her groups and because you’re her patient. She doesn’t have a choice, she has to spend time with you and pretend like she likes you, even if she hates your guts.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.” Will exhaled a huge sigh and looked up at the clock, counting the minutes until his friends would leave him in peace.
*****
“Will asked me out today,” Micaela said to Paige as they sat at the little diner that they went to after work sometimes.
“Will who?” Paige looked up curiously and accidentally dribbled ketchup from her fries down her chin.
“Will Becket. My patient.”
“Oo, the hot rock star one? You said yes, right?”
“No, you know my policy on that,” Micaela pushed her fries around with her fork. Suddenly they weren’t looking that appetizing.
“Yeah, but you can make an exception for him. I mean, you told me yourself that you thought he was hot,” Paige wiped the ketchup off of her chin with a napkin, but a glob of it dropped off of the napkin and onto her khaki’s, “dammit!” she muttered under her breath.
“No. You know I can’t break my own rules. How bad would it be if I broke rules that I came up with myself?”
“You’re such a freak. Anyone else would jump on that chance. I would,” Paige tried to pretend like the piece of salad hadn’t just fallen off of her fork right before she put the bite in her mouth, and Micaela ignored her and continued pushing her fries around her plate, lost in her own thoughts.
Chapter 3
“Seriously Dude? Seriously? You’re seriously going to go to a club where they’re knitting?”
Will nodded, “Seriously Sisky. It’s my therapy so if you want to be a douchebag about it then maybe you should go home.”
“I would rather have broken limbs forever then go to knitting group. Do you even know how to knit?”
“I’m learning,” William pointed to a sunny spot near the windows where some of the other patients were already gathered. Sisky pushed his wheelchair up to the group, spotting a balding, somewhat overweight man, and a bunch of older and middle aged women. “Pull me up over there,” Will gestured to a younger woman with auburn hair sitting by herself in a seat by the windows. A folder and a bunch of papers were scattered all over a little table in front of her. A yellow lumpy thing lay off to the side and Sisky realized that it was her abandoned knitting project.
“I see why you are to this group now,” Sisky looked up at the pale freckled woman with her large green eyes and wavy hair. She was beautiful in that natural, earthy, no-make sort of way. “Is she the reason you broke up with Jamie?”
“No, I told you; Jamie initiated our break up, not me.”
“Yeah, but was she the reason?” Sisky taunted.
William glared at him, “I actually kinda miss Jamie and it’s only been a few hours. How do you miss someone who made it their life’s mission to make you miserable?”
“Maybe it’s like that thing where the girl who’s taken hostage falls for the guy who kidnapped her,” Sisky laughed as he pulled the wheelchair up next to Micaela and then pulled a chair up next to Will and sat down.
“Whatcha doin’?” Will asked Micaela.
“Paperwork,” she didn’t even look up at him, “George can help you if you need any help.”
“Oh,” Will’s face fell. He looked up at George and saw him helping someone else, “He’s busy.”
“Well he’ll be done shortly and then he can help you.”
“But I don’t like it when he does it. I only like it your way,” Will whined and Sisky shook his head suppressing laughter at what an ass his friend was making out of himself.
Micaela looked up at him and sighed, “Okay where’s your needles?” He held them up, still with the pout on his face. “Where’s your yarn?” he held up a tangled skein of dark blue, now his pout turning into a goofy smile. “I’ll help you cast on, but then you’re on your own.” She went to work showing him how to knit while Sisky sat next to them, totally spacing out.
“Young man,” an elderly voice addressed him and he looked up to see an older woman standing over him. Well, not that much over him, as she was only about 2 inches taller then he was while she was standing up and he was sitting down. “Hold this for me while I sit in my chair,” She handed him a skein of baby pink yarn and then pulled the chair up behind her. “What are you here for?” she asked him bluntly.
“Oh, I’m not a patient. I’m just visiting my friend Bill.”
She smiled, “Ah, William. He’s a bit odd that boy. He goes to all the women’s groups just because he’s got the hots for Mica.”
Sisky laughed, “Yeah, he’s a weirdo. Why are you here?”
“I’m here so that they can teach me about how to have a healthy lifestyle.” He looked at her confused. “My insurance company is forcing me to spend extra time hear because this was my third minor heart attack, but I’ll be one hundred next month and I’m still walking, so I must be doing something right.”
“What does a heart attack feel like?” Sisky asked and then immediately regretting it. Why would he make this woman relive such a horrible time in her life.
“It felt damn good.” She laughed at Sisky’s surprised face, “I was having sex.”
His eyes widened even more, “well was it worth it?”
“Oh yeah. It was, what do you youngin’s say? Hot?” Sisky nodded and laughed. “I would do it again in a heartbeat,” she howled with laughter at Sisky’s mortified face, “Forgive the pun. Of course Ray feels just awful about it, but he can’t help it that he’s an Italian Stallion.”
“Is Ray your husband?”
“No. My husband died over thirty years ago, and I spent a good ten years mourning his death and then I realized that I had to get back out there and enjoy my life. It’s what he would’ve wanted. And I’m lucky because Ray’s a younger man.”
“Oh yeah?” Sisky was amused by the woman’s demeanor.
“Yeah he’s eighty. That mean’s I was 19 when he was born, but that’s okay. The younger the better. In fact, you’re pretty cute,” she laughed again at the semi-horrified look on Sisky’s face, “I meant it in a different way then you think. I meant that you’re cute like my great grandson. I’m Dorit by the way.”
She held out her hand and he took it. She gave it a good firm shake, “I’m Adam,” he smiled. He couldn’t help but admire her spunk.
*****
2 weeks later
“You’re improving,” Micaela sat down on the edge of William’s bed, while he sat across from her in the chair, “I talked to your doctor, your social worker, and your physical therapist this morning and they said you should be ready to leave by the end of the week.”
“That’s great,” William looked at her and his expression showed that he thought it was anything but great.
“It is great. You’ll be healed before you know it. You can get back to work with your music, and maybe next fall you’ll be back into touring again with your band. You’ve made great progress since you were here and the doctor said that it’s probably because of all of the Recreation Therapy you’ve been doing. You’ve been attending two to three groups per day, afterall.”
“Sure,” Will said, immediately regretting going to all of those groups. He didn’t want to leave. He was finally able to see what he truly wanted and it wasn’t to leave the facility, it was to spend as much time with Mica as possible.
“So I want to set up a meeting with you toward the end of the week where we can discuss activities that you can keep doing when you get out of the facility so that you can keep getting better and better.”
“Okay,” he looked down at his hands.
“How about Thursday afternoon? If you leave on Friday afternoon, that will give you plenty of time to ask me some questions if you think of them after our meeting.”
“Whatever you want,” he swept his hair out of his face with his good hand.
“Okay, Thursday at two then.” She got off of the bed and headed to the door.
“Micaela wait!” Will shouted panicked.
“What is it William?”
“Do you think maybe you could go out with me sometime?”
She looked down at her hands embarrassed, “No, I’m sorry William. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t date my patients. We have a patient-therapist relationship and it needs to stay that way.”
“No it doesn’t. You’re not my psychiatrist. There are no rules in Recreation Therapy that say you can’t date me when I leave here.”
“You’re right. There’s not, but I wouldn’t feel right about it. It’s a personal policy.”
Will couldn’t look her in the eyes, “Oh. Well okay then.” He felt totally embarrassed.
“I’m going to go now William, but I’ll see you later,” she turned and left the room, leaving him there alone and thinking about how foolish he’d been to even ask her.
“Hey!” Sisky entered the room cheerily with Mike close behind him.
“You guys said you’d be here at two. It’s almost three now!” Will said aggravated. He really didn’t care about what time his friends came, he was just angry about Mica not accepting his invite.
“What the hell are you, the time nazi?” Mike glared at him.
“We took a detour coming here. I took Mike to go see Dorit,” Sisky said with a huge smile on his face, “Doesn’t she totally rock for an old woman?”
“Yeah, she was the shit!” Mike gave Sisky a high five and Will rolled his eyes. Sisky had been to visit almost every day for the past two weeks, but he always spent more time hanging out with Dorit then with Will.
“Mica said she wouldn’t go out with me,” Will slumped in his chair.
“So that’s why you’re all bitter and worried about the time,” Sisky sat next to him and patted his shoulder, “it’s not really a surprise though.”
“What the hell? Of course it is! She spends every day with me!”
“Only because you choose to go to her groups and because you’re her patient. She doesn’t have a choice, she has to spend time with you and pretend like she likes you, even if she hates your guts.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.” Will exhaled a huge sigh and looked up at the clock, counting the minutes until his friends would leave him in peace.
*****
“Will asked me out today,” Micaela said to Paige as they sat at the little diner that they went to after work sometimes.
“Will who?” Paige looked up curiously and accidentally dribbled ketchup from her fries down her chin.
“Will Becket. My patient.”
“Oo, the hot rock star one? You said yes, right?”
“No, you know my policy on that,” Micaela pushed her fries around with her fork. Suddenly they weren’t looking that appetizing.
“Yeah, but you can make an exception for him. I mean, you told me yourself that you thought he was hot,” Paige wiped the ketchup off of her chin with a napkin, but a glob of it dropped off of the napkin and onto her khaki’s, “dammit!” she muttered under her breath.
“No. You know I can’t break my own rules. How bad would it be if I broke rules that I came up with myself?”
“You’re such a freak. Anyone else would jump on that chance. I would,” Paige tried to pretend like the piece of salad hadn’t just fallen off of her fork right before she put the bite in her mouth, and Micaela ignored her and continued pushing her fries around her plate, lost in her own thoughts.
The Four Things - Chapter 2
A/N - Finally I'm getting a chance to update this. Of course I have about a billion other things I should be doing, but that's always what happens, right. Thanks for you reviews guys!
Chapter 2
Walter practically skipped up the steps to the tiny third floor apartment. He couldn’t wait to get home and see his wife. She was what kept him going every second of every day, and he loved her with all of his heart. He unlocked the door and headed inside, smelling the dinner that she had saved for him keeping warm in the oven, but wanting to say hello to her before he ate. He couldn’t wait to surprise her. The boss had let him out of work early with pay, as a bit of a holiday bonus. He looked all around the sitting room, dining room and kitchen and couldn’t find her, realizing at last that she must be in the bedroom. He grinned, hoping that maybe he would catch her in the act of changing into her nightgown, and that would make an already great night even better.
As he turned the doorknob of their bedroom, he swore he heard a masculine grunting noise. Knowing he must have been hearing things, and excited to surprise her, he swung the door open quickly, revealing, to his horror, his lovely wife in the arms of their fat old landlord.
Anger and hurt swelled inside him. Here he was, working double shifts almost every day and night so that he could put food on the table and a roof over their heads, and she had the nerve to cheat on him with this scum. Suddenly nausea overcame him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife. Instead he ran over to the bed and pulled the man off of her, and then swiftly turned to his side of the bed and grabbed the gun that lay beneath the mattress. His wife was looking at him now, pleading with him, but he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He took his first shot, hitting the landlord and he could her a cold laugh escape his lips. Then the second shot, hitting his wife in the neck. She gazed intently into his eyes during the last seconds of her life and he could barely hear her whispering the words, “I love you.” Then she was gone.
As he watched the life sink away from her, the anger was replaced with such an incredible sadness. What had he done? He had just murdered the only thing in his life that was good. Hot tears stained his bright red face as he pulled the old man off of her and to the floor, and lay down beside his wife. Her blood soaked the bed, and covered most of the pillow, but he pulled her close to him. “I love you Mary,” he cried into her hair as he raised the gun up and wrapped his lips around the gun.
*****
“Will, get up!” light filled his eyes as he was shaken awake, “I said get the fuck up!”
“Alright, alright,” Will sat up in the bed and looked at the blond girl in front of him, “Thanks for the lovely wake up call.”
“You’re welcome,” she sneered and raised an eyebrow into a bitchy expression and William rolled his eyes, deciding to blow off her behavior.
“I had that dream again. The one where…”
“Where you kill some whore and a fat guy and then kill yourself?” she interrupted him, “What else is new? And don’t think I don’t see you rolling your eyes at me,” she added after he did it again.
“Well maybe if you didn’t act so pleasant,” he pointed out sarcastically, “Why did you even come here Jamie?”
“That’s a really great question, William, and the answer is: I don’t fucking know. It’s not like you’re any fun to be around anymore. We used to have so much fun.”
“Well I’m so sorry that my injury puts a damper on your fun.”
“You should be. Not only do we not do anything fun anymore, but then I have to pass up fun things to come see you. I was invited to go shopping with Kim an d Lindsay, but I had to come to visit you.”
“Well boo fucking hoo to you. Aren’t I so privileged?”
They sat there in silence as the seconds passed, and then the minutes. Finally William spoke, “What happened to us?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie answered quietly, all of the sarcasm and bitchiness out of her voice, “We used to be so great.”
“We really were. And now we’re so… not great.”
“Can I be blunt?” Jamie asked, looking at him with big blue, heavily made up eyes.
“What’s ever stopped you in the past?”
She blew off the remark, “Listen Will, I don’t want to hurt you, but honestly I’ve been falling out of love with you for quite some time, and now that you’re in here it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend like I want this relationship to work.”
William took a deep breath, realizing suddenly that he felt the same way and he had for a while, “I know what you mean. It’s like I was so used to being with you that I didn’t question it, but now that you say that I know that I feel the same way.”
A slight smile flickered across her lips, “I’m glad we’re on the same page. So now we’re…?”
“Broken up? Yeah, I think its best,” he felt the sudden urge to grab her hand, and when he did they both laughed a little nervously.
There was a knock on the door and Micaela poked her head in, “Will, are you ready for the cooking group?” She noticed Jamie sitting on his bed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had company. Well you can just catch the next cooking group.”
“Actually I was just leaving,” Jamie said, pointing to the purse that was already hanging from her shoulder.
“Okay, I’ll just wait in the hall then,” Micaela closed the door behind her as she left the room.
“That was Mary… I mean Micaela. She’s my wi…I mean, my Recreation Therapist. Why did I just say that?”
“Were you about to say she’s you’re wife?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know why, it just slipped out.” His cheeks were red and he bit his bottom lip nervously.
To his surprise Jamie laughed, “Wow, it seems as though you’ve seen us as being broken up for quite some time now.”
“Jamie, it’s not like that,” he felt guilty and he didn’t know why. He had nothing to feel guilty about.
“No, it’s okay,” she touched his cheek gently, “I’ll see you around William. Have fun at your cooking group.” She left the room and spotted Micaela waiting a few feet down the hall, “Your husband’s waiting for you in there,” she smirked and pointed to the door before walking down the hallway.
Confused, Micaela decided to shrug off the comment as she entered the room. “Did you have a nice visit?”
“Yeah it was great,” he smiled up at her, “We broke up.”
*****
“I think Rock Star has a crush on you,” George laughed at Micaela as he walked into the Therapeutic Recreation office that afternoon. He and some of the other therapists had taken to calling William “Rock Star”, much to Micaela’s disapproval. They often did that, calling the patients names such as “Bald Dude” or “Freckled Girl” to avoid feeling close to their patients and being disappointed if they didn’t get better. Micaela liked to take a person-centered approach and took a very deep interest in all of her patients, feeling excited for them when they finally go to leave the facility, and feeling low with them when they didn’t do well. It was why she was one of the most popular therapists: people felt like they could connect with her.
“His name is William, and no he doesn’t.”
“He goes to all of your activities.”
“So does Mrs. Huff.”
“Mrs. Huff is an 82 year old woman who cooked, knit, did arts and crafts, had kids, kept a garden and watched jeopardy all of her adult life. It’s normal for her to want to go to cooking class, Sassy Stitchers, Arts and Crafts, Intergenerational Group, Garden Club and Trivia groups. It’s not normal for him. Normal guys don’t do all of those things.”
“That’s not true. That’s such a stereotype and you know it.”
“I’ll prove it to you. Come with me,” he pulled her out into the corridor and down the hall to William’s room, knocking before entering it, but leaving Micaela in the hall to listen, out of sight.
“Hey Will, just to let you know that I’m going to be running an impromptu knitting group this afternoon. You wanna come man?”
Will looked at him skeptically and made a face, “I don’t think so. Some of my friends are visiting later and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”
“Alright, see you later,” George turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. “See?” he asked Micaela.
“His friends are coming, so of course he doesn’t want to come.”
George rolled his eyes. “Okay, watch this;” he opened the door back up and peeked his head in, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Micaela’s going to be sitting in the group this afternoon with us.”
“What time did you say it was?”
“3:30.”
“I’ll see you at 3:30 then.”
George shut the door and turned to Micaela, an “I told you so” look in his eyes.
“I can’t believe you!”
“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault he likes you.”
“No, I can’t believe you just signed me up to do another group this afternoon. I have to do assessments! I don’t have time to run knitting.”
“Relax and just sit in on the group. I’ll run it and all you have to do is show up. You can sit in the corner and do your notes if you want.”
If looks could kill, George would’ve dropped dead right there.
Chapter 2
Walter practically skipped up the steps to the tiny third floor apartment. He couldn’t wait to get home and see his wife. She was what kept him going every second of every day, and he loved her with all of his heart. He unlocked the door and headed inside, smelling the dinner that she had saved for him keeping warm in the oven, but wanting to say hello to her before he ate. He couldn’t wait to surprise her. The boss had let him out of work early with pay, as a bit of a holiday bonus. He looked all around the sitting room, dining room and kitchen and couldn’t find her, realizing at last that she must be in the bedroom. He grinned, hoping that maybe he would catch her in the act of changing into her nightgown, and that would make an already great night even better.
As he turned the doorknob of their bedroom, he swore he heard a masculine grunting noise. Knowing he must have been hearing things, and excited to surprise her, he swung the door open quickly, revealing, to his horror, his lovely wife in the arms of their fat old landlord.
Anger and hurt swelled inside him. Here he was, working double shifts almost every day and night so that he could put food on the table and a roof over their heads, and she had the nerve to cheat on him with this scum. Suddenly nausea overcame him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife. Instead he ran over to the bed and pulled the man off of her, and then swiftly turned to his side of the bed and grabbed the gun that lay beneath the mattress. His wife was looking at him now, pleading with him, but he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He took his first shot, hitting the landlord and he could her a cold laugh escape his lips. Then the second shot, hitting his wife in the neck. She gazed intently into his eyes during the last seconds of her life and he could barely hear her whispering the words, “I love you.” Then she was gone.
As he watched the life sink away from her, the anger was replaced with such an incredible sadness. What had he done? He had just murdered the only thing in his life that was good. Hot tears stained his bright red face as he pulled the old man off of her and to the floor, and lay down beside his wife. Her blood soaked the bed, and covered most of the pillow, but he pulled her close to him. “I love you Mary,” he cried into her hair as he raised the gun up and wrapped his lips around the gun.
*****
“Will, get up!” light filled his eyes as he was shaken awake, “I said get the fuck up!”
“Alright, alright,” Will sat up in the bed and looked at the blond girl in front of him, “Thanks for the lovely wake up call.”
“You’re welcome,” she sneered and raised an eyebrow into a bitchy expression and William rolled his eyes, deciding to blow off her behavior.
“I had that dream again. The one where…”
“Where you kill some whore and a fat guy and then kill yourself?” she interrupted him, “What else is new? And don’t think I don’t see you rolling your eyes at me,” she added after he did it again.
“Well maybe if you didn’t act so pleasant,” he pointed out sarcastically, “Why did you even come here Jamie?”
“That’s a really great question, William, and the answer is: I don’t fucking know. It’s not like you’re any fun to be around anymore. We used to have so much fun.”
“Well I’m so sorry that my injury puts a damper on your fun.”
“You should be. Not only do we not do anything fun anymore, but then I have to pass up fun things to come see you. I was invited to go shopping with Kim an d Lindsay, but I had to come to visit you.”
“Well boo fucking hoo to you. Aren’t I so privileged?”
They sat there in silence as the seconds passed, and then the minutes. Finally William spoke, “What happened to us?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie answered quietly, all of the sarcasm and bitchiness out of her voice, “We used to be so great.”
“We really were. And now we’re so… not great.”
“Can I be blunt?” Jamie asked, looking at him with big blue, heavily made up eyes.
“What’s ever stopped you in the past?”
She blew off the remark, “Listen Will, I don’t want to hurt you, but honestly I’ve been falling out of love with you for quite some time, and now that you’re in here it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend like I want this relationship to work.”
William took a deep breath, realizing suddenly that he felt the same way and he had for a while, “I know what you mean. It’s like I was so used to being with you that I didn’t question it, but now that you say that I know that I feel the same way.”
A slight smile flickered across her lips, “I’m glad we’re on the same page. So now we’re…?”
“Broken up? Yeah, I think its best,” he felt the sudden urge to grab her hand, and when he did they both laughed a little nervously.
There was a knock on the door and Micaela poked her head in, “Will, are you ready for the cooking group?” She noticed Jamie sitting on his bed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had company. Well you can just catch the next cooking group.”
“Actually I was just leaving,” Jamie said, pointing to the purse that was already hanging from her shoulder.
“Okay, I’ll just wait in the hall then,” Micaela closed the door behind her as she left the room.
“That was Mary… I mean Micaela. She’s my wi…I mean, my Recreation Therapist. Why did I just say that?”
“Were you about to say she’s you’re wife?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know why, it just slipped out.” His cheeks were red and he bit his bottom lip nervously.
To his surprise Jamie laughed, “Wow, it seems as though you’ve seen us as being broken up for quite some time now.”
“Jamie, it’s not like that,” he felt guilty and he didn’t know why. He had nothing to feel guilty about.
“No, it’s okay,” she touched his cheek gently, “I’ll see you around William. Have fun at your cooking group.” She left the room and spotted Micaela waiting a few feet down the hall, “Your husband’s waiting for you in there,” she smirked and pointed to the door before walking down the hallway.
Confused, Micaela decided to shrug off the comment as she entered the room. “Did you have a nice visit?”
“Yeah it was great,” he smiled up at her, “We broke up.”
*****
“I think Rock Star has a crush on you,” George laughed at Micaela as he walked into the Therapeutic Recreation office that afternoon. He and some of the other therapists had taken to calling William “Rock Star”, much to Micaela’s disapproval. They often did that, calling the patients names such as “Bald Dude” or “Freckled Girl” to avoid feeling close to their patients and being disappointed if they didn’t get better. Micaela liked to take a person-centered approach and took a very deep interest in all of her patients, feeling excited for them when they finally go to leave the facility, and feeling low with them when they didn’t do well. It was why she was one of the most popular therapists: people felt like they could connect with her.
“His name is William, and no he doesn’t.”
“He goes to all of your activities.”
“So does Mrs. Huff.”
“Mrs. Huff is an 82 year old woman who cooked, knit, did arts and crafts, had kids, kept a garden and watched jeopardy all of her adult life. It’s normal for her to want to go to cooking class, Sassy Stitchers, Arts and Crafts, Intergenerational Group, Garden Club and Trivia groups. It’s not normal for him. Normal guys don’t do all of those things.”
“That’s not true. That’s such a stereotype and you know it.”
“I’ll prove it to you. Come with me,” he pulled her out into the corridor and down the hall to William’s room, knocking before entering it, but leaving Micaela in the hall to listen, out of sight.
“Hey Will, just to let you know that I’m going to be running an impromptu knitting group this afternoon. You wanna come man?”
Will looked at him skeptically and made a face, “I don’t think so. Some of my friends are visiting later and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”
“Alright, see you later,” George turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. “See?” he asked Micaela.
“His friends are coming, so of course he doesn’t want to come.”
George rolled his eyes. “Okay, watch this;” he opened the door back up and peeked his head in, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Micaela’s going to be sitting in the group this afternoon with us.”
“What time did you say it was?”
“3:30.”
“I’ll see you at 3:30 then.”
George shut the door and turned to Micaela, an “I told you so” look in his eyes.
“I can’t believe you!”
“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault he likes you.”
“No, I can’t believe you just signed me up to do another group this afternoon. I have to do assessments! I don’t have time to run knitting.”
“Relax and just sit in on the group. I’ll run it and all you have to do is show up. You can sit in the corner and do your notes if you want.”
If looks could kill, George would’ve dropped dead right there.
The Four Things - Chapter One
Everyone who originally read this story: I'm going to post it exactly how it was on the site without making any corrections or anything. I'll probably be updating this story pretty soon, since I reread it and had a million other ideas.
~A
A/N – This story is called The Four Things, it’s about William (gee, who woulda guessed?) Beckett and the usual disclaimer applies. I don’t know William Beckett or any other TAI guys. This story is totally fictional. Also be warned that it has very mature themes (I feel like a movie reviewer).
Thanks for reading and reviewing (if you choose to do so – please do). You guys are always awesome that way.
Chapter One
Here he was again like the night before and the night before that, fingers clinging to her bare skin, and hot, disgusting breath spilling out of his mouth and onto her neck as he panted with excitement. She had tried fighting him off, but it was a useless fight. And then there was the matter of the rent. They hadn’t been able to afford it for the past two months, and this was the only way of repaying him even though she was disgusted. She was disgusted with him and with herself for not fighting him harder. Fear clung to her every thought as she remembered that it was almost time for Walter to come home from work. Working the late shifts in the factory brought him home at almost dawn, and brought in barely any pay.
“Hey,” she breathed, trying to push the heavier man off of her, “You need to leave, my husband will be home soon, and if he finds you here, I don’t even know what will happen.”
“Shut up, bitch,” he pushed her back down onto the mattress and held her down with a group of fat, sweaty fingers.
She shut her eyes, trying to shut what was happening to her out of her mind. It wasn’t working. He was still on top of her and she was still paying the rent with the moves that her hips made, although she actually moved as little as possible during the nightly acts, it was his forceful hands that moved her hips for her.
She tried to think of how it all started and it came to her in flashes with each movement the landlord made. A few months ago when the rent check was short and there was no money in their account, the landlord had come with an eviction notice when her husband was at work. Panicked and not thinking straight, she offered him “whatever she could do to help”, not realizing that it was sexual payment that the sick man had in store for her, and instead thinking that he would probably only want her to do some cleaning around his house, and possibly some cooking and laundry when he called for her the next night. Instead, he took her into his bed and painfully raped her. That night, she cried herself to sleep with her husband lying next to her, feeling too dirty and too ashamed to tell anyone about what had happened. After all, who would believe a woman in a man’s world, which was what it was in 1931? They would blame her and say that she was “asking for it” or at least that’s what she thought in her twisted head.
In between the silence that gripped the night, and the heavy breathing escaping her landlord’s lips, a clicking sound brought her back to the present: the key turned in the lock of the front door and the entrance to the little third floor apartment slammed shut, signifying Walter’s return home from work. She tried with all her might to push the heavy man off of her but failed. He didn’t seem to care if he was caught at all. The only thing that mattered for him was if he came.
The bedroom door opened and in stepped Walter, his long brown hair shimmering in the moonlight that seeped lazily through the open window, and his pale skin seeming to glow white. He took in the sight in front of him with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and surprise: his wife in bed with another man. Always known as a soft, gentle man, and never as harsh or violent, Walter tried to examine the situation without judgment, but the anger got the best of him before he could properly do that. He ran to the bed and pulled the fat man off of his wife, realizing with horror that it was the landlord from the first floor. The landlord with the smirk on his face. Walter wanted nothing more then to wipe that sickening smile off of the man’s lips and at the same time remembered his rifle under the mattress on his side of the bed. He reached in and pulled out the small gun and watched with a sick sense of glee as the man’s face went into a horrific state. “Walter, no!” he could hear his wife scream out to him in the back of his mind, “Put the gun away, honey.” He let out a callous laugh as he thought about the situation: his wife was trying to stop him from killing her lover. He laughed louder as he pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped through the fat man’s heart. Then he turned to his wife, giving her one last angry look before pulling the trigger again.
*****
Micaela woke from her nightmare in a cold sweat. It had been the same thing for over a week now. Every night she dreamt that she was some housewife in the 1930’s who was cheating on her husband with the landlord so that she could pay the rent. And just as her husband discovered her with the landlord and was about to kill her, she woke up panting and sweating. She looked over at her clock and noticed that her alarm was set to go off in a half hour anyway, and decided to get up rather then risk having the dream again.
*****
“You know that dream I told you about? Well I had it again last night,” Micaela said to her best friend Paige as she grabbed a seat in the lunch room putting her tray down in front of her.
“The one with the psycho serial killing husband?” Paige asked, taking a bite into her club sandwich and trying to pretend like she didn’t drop lettuce out of her mouth as she spoke. She had never really been a very coordinated eater, often joking about not having good hand to mouth coordination.
Micaela nodded, “Yeah, it’s really freaking me out, because the same thing happens in it every time.”
“You know they say that you’ll always wake up before you die in a dream, and if you die in the dream, then you’ll die in real life,” Paige picked up a piece of bacon that had fallen out of the bread and onto the plate, and shoved it in her mouth quickly.
“Thanks Paige. That’s an encouraging thought.”
“So what are you ladies talking about?” George, a mutual friend of theirs sat down next to Micaela.
“Death by dream,” Paige answered him, “Mica’s been having a dream that she’s about to get murdered by a jealous husband.”
“Really?” George’s head snapped around to Micaela, “You know they say if you die during a dream that you die in real life. I don’t know how they would prove that because it’s not like anyone’s lived to be like, ‘yeah I was just dreaming about dying when I died’, but it’s some food for thought.”
“Yeah, thanks George. I knew that already,” Micaela sighed popping a French fry into her mouth. She finished her lunch quickly and then headed up to her office to check her email, which was something that she did every day right after lunch, to check for any new admissions. Today the little envelope flashed in the bottom of her screen and she clicked on it, bringing up the new census, and sure enough she had an admission. She looked at her watch, checking to see if she had enough time to do the assessment on her patient, and deciding that she did, she grabbed the paperwork and headed down the hall to his room.
As she walked into room 314 and looked at the tall man sitting in a wheelchair, an immediate surge of recognition hit her. She knew him from somewhere, but she couldn’t place it. “Hi, I’m Micaela,” she said, holding her hand out to him, “I’ll be your Recreation Therapist while you’re here at Maguill Rehab.”
He shook her hand, “My Recreation what?” he asked uncertainly, a response that Micaela was used to.
“Recreation Therapist. That means I’ll be working with you to get better, but instead of doing different exercises and ADL’s, uh activities of daily living,” she specified what ADLs were after seeing the confused look on his face, “like what Physical and Occupational Therapy will be doing, we’re going to have fun and do stuff that you like to do, and attach goals to those things so that you can get better.”
“That sounds pretty cool,” he nodded, “I’m William.”
“Nice to meet you, William. Do you mind if I do a quick assessment about your likes and dislikes?”
He shrugged, “Go for it.”
“Okay, we’ll start off with your diagnoses. I could check your medical chart, but I’m sure you can probably tell me what’s wrong.”
“Yeah, I was in a car crash. My left leg and left arm are both broken in multiple spots. That’s why I’m in this dumb chair. You can’t use crutches when your arm is broken too. And to make it worse, my body is taking super long to recover and my doctor’s worried that if I don’t get help soon, I’ll loose abilities in my hand and foot forever. Hence the rehabilitation. Basically, the whole thing really blows.”
Micaela nodded and took down the notes on the assessment sheet. She asked him some background questions about his occupation, lifestyle, relationships, and religion and found out that he was a musician with lots of close family and friends and a girlfriend who he proudly showed her a picture of (“This is my Jamie. Isn’t she gorgeous?” a huge smile plastered across his face). Now it was time for the fun questions, “So what do you like to do Will?”
“I love music. Playing it, listening to it, writing it. Everything about it,” a serene smile flickered across his face as he said this and she could sense how much music really meant to him.
“Do you play instruments?”
“Yeah, lots of them, but most often I play piano and guitar.”
“Well that’s great; both of those will be good activities to help with getting the motor skills perfected in your hands again.” They continued the assessment and Micaela learned all about William’s interest and helped him develop treatment goals and set up times for therapy sessions. Lastly she posted a calendar on his bulletin board. “This is our activity calendar. I’ve circled the sessions that you should attend based on your goals, but basically you can attend any group that interests you.”
“And what groups do you run?” he looked at her with a smirk that stretched to his eyes.
“Mine are the groups highlighted in orange.”
“Well I guess I’ll see you this afternoon at…” he looked at the calendar, “The Sassy Stitchers? What are the Sassy Stitchers.”
“A knitting and crocheting group that’s mostly just girls sitting around gossiping.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you then.”
Micaela smiled to herself, not daring to laugh out loud, cause what if William really got off on knitting or crocheting? Making fun of patient’s hobbies was a huge no-no in her business. She said goodbye to Will and headed out the door, meeting a tall blonde who she recognized as Jamie, Will’s girlfriend, from the picture he showed her earlier.
~A
A/N – This story is called The Four Things, it’s about William (gee, who woulda guessed?) Beckett and the usual disclaimer applies. I don’t know William Beckett or any other TAI guys. This story is totally fictional. Also be warned that it has very mature themes (I feel like a movie reviewer).
Thanks for reading and reviewing (if you choose to do so – please do). You guys are always awesome that way.
Chapter One
Here he was again like the night before and the night before that, fingers clinging to her bare skin, and hot, disgusting breath spilling out of his mouth and onto her neck as he panted with excitement. She had tried fighting him off, but it was a useless fight. And then there was the matter of the rent. They hadn’t been able to afford it for the past two months, and this was the only way of repaying him even though she was disgusted. She was disgusted with him and with herself for not fighting him harder. Fear clung to her every thought as she remembered that it was almost time for Walter to come home from work. Working the late shifts in the factory brought him home at almost dawn, and brought in barely any pay.
“Hey,” she breathed, trying to push the heavier man off of her, “You need to leave, my husband will be home soon, and if he finds you here, I don’t even know what will happen.”
“Shut up, bitch,” he pushed her back down onto the mattress and held her down with a group of fat, sweaty fingers.
She shut her eyes, trying to shut what was happening to her out of her mind. It wasn’t working. He was still on top of her and she was still paying the rent with the moves that her hips made, although she actually moved as little as possible during the nightly acts, it was his forceful hands that moved her hips for her.
She tried to think of how it all started and it came to her in flashes with each movement the landlord made. A few months ago when the rent check was short and there was no money in their account, the landlord had come with an eviction notice when her husband was at work. Panicked and not thinking straight, she offered him “whatever she could do to help”, not realizing that it was sexual payment that the sick man had in store for her, and instead thinking that he would probably only want her to do some cleaning around his house, and possibly some cooking and laundry when he called for her the next night. Instead, he took her into his bed and painfully raped her. That night, she cried herself to sleep with her husband lying next to her, feeling too dirty and too ashamed to tell anyone about what had happened. After all, who would believe a woman in a man’s world, which was what it was in 1931? They would blame her and say that she was “asking for it” or at least that’s what she thought in her twisted head.
In between the silence that gripped the night, and the heavy breathing escaping her landlord’s lips, a clicking sound brought her back to the present: the key turned in the lock of the front door and the entrance to the little third floor apartment slammed shut, signifying Walter’s return home from work. She tried with all her might to push the heavy man off of her but failed. He didn’t seem to care if he was caught at all. The only thing that mattered for him was if he came.
The bedroom door opened and in stepped Walter, his long brown hair shimmering in the moonlight that seeped lazily through the open window, and his pale skin seeming to glow white. He took in the sight in front of him with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and surprise: his wife in bed with another man. Always known as a soft, gentle man, and never as harsh or violent, Walter tried to examine the situation without judgment, but the anger got the best of him before he could properly do that. He ran to the bed and pulled the fat man off of his wife, realizing with horror that it was the landlord from the first floor. The landlord with the smirk on his face. Walter wanted nothing more then to wipe that sickening smile off of the man’s lips and at the same time remembered his rifle under the mattress on his side of the bed. He reached in and pulled out the small gun and watched with a sick sense of glee as the man’s face went into a horrific state. “Walter, no!” he could hear his wife scream out to him in the back of his mind, “Put the gun away, honey.” He let out a callous laugh as he thought about the situation: his wife was trying to stop him from killing her lover. He laughed louder as he pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped through the fat man’s heart. Then he turned to his wife, giving her one last angry look before pulling the trigger again.
*****
Micaela woke from her nightmare in a cold sweat. It had been the same thing for over a week now. Every night she dreamt that she was some housewife in the 1930’s who was cheating on her husband with the landlord so that she could pay the rent. And just as her husband discovered her with the landlord and was about to kill her, she woke up panting and sweating. She looked over at her clock and noticed that her alarm was set to go off in a half hour anyway, and decided to get up rather then risk having the dream again.
*****
“You know that dream I told you about? Well I had it again last night,” Micaela said to her best friend Paige as she grabbed a seat in the lunch room putting her tray down in front of her.
“The one with the psycho serial killing husband?” Paige asked, taking a bite into her club sandwich and trying to pretend like she didn’t drop lettuce out of her mouth as she spoke. She had never really been a very coordinated eater, often joking about not having good hand to mouth coordination.
Micaela nodded, “Yeah, it’s really freaking me out, because the same thing happens in it every time.”
“You know they say that you’ll always wake up before you die in a dream, and if you die in the dream, then you’ll die in real life,” Paige picked up a piece of bacon that had fallen out of the bread and onto the plate, and shoved it in her mouth quickly.
“Thanks Paige. That’s an encouraging thought.”
“So what are you ladies talking about?” George, a mutual friend of theirs sat down next to Micaela.
“Death by dream,” Paige answered him, “Mica’s been having a dream that she’s about to get murdered by a jealous husband.”
“Really?” George’s head snapped around to Micaela, “You know they say if you die during a dream that you die in real life. I don’t know how they would prove that because it’s not like anyone’s lived to be like, ‘yeah I was just dreaming about dying when I died’, but it’s some food for thought.”
“Yeah, thanks George. I knew that already,” Micaela sighed popping a French fry into her mouth. She finished her lunch quickly and then headed up to her office to check her email, which was something that she did every day right after lunch, to check for any new admissions. Today the little envelope flashed in the bottom of her screen and she clicked on it, bringing up the new census, and sure enough she had an admission. She looked at her watch, checking to see if she had enough time to do the assessment on her patient, and deciding that she did, she grabbed the paperwork and headed down the hall to his room.
As she walked into room 314 and looked at the tall man sitting in a wheelchair, an immediate surge of recognition hit her. She knew him from somewhere, but she couldn’t place it. “Hi, I’m Micaela,” she said, holding her hand out to him, “I’ll be your Recreation Therapist while you’re here at Maguill Rehab.”
He shook her hand, “My Recreation what?” he asked uncertainly, a response that Micaela was used to.
“Recreation Therapist. That means I’ll be working with you to get better, but instead of doing different exercises and ADL’s, uh activities of daily living,” she specified what ADLs were after seeing the confused look on his face, “like what Physical and Occupational Therapy will be doing, we’re going to have fun and do stuff that you like to do, and attach goals to those things so that you can get better.”
“That sounds pretty cool,” he nodded, “I’m William.”
“Nice to meet you, William. Do you mind if I do a quick assessment about your likes and dislikes?”
He shrugged, “Go for it.”
“Okay, we’ll start off with your diagnoses. I could check your medical chart, but I’m sure you can probably tell me what’s wrong.”
“Yeah, I was in a car crash. My left leg and left arm are both broken in multiple spots. That’s why I’m in this dumb chair. You can’t use crutches when your arm is broken too. And to make it worse, my body is taking super long to recover and my doctor’s worried that if I don’t get help soon, I’ll loose abilities in my hand and foot forever. Hence the rehabilitation. Basically, the whole thing really blows.”
Micaela nodded and took down the notes on the assessment sheet. She asked him some background questions about his occupation, lifestyle, relationships, and religion and found out that he was a musician with lots of close family and friends and a girlfriend who he proudly showed her a picture of (“This is my Jamie. Isn’t she gorgeous?” a huge smile plastered across his face). Now it was time for the fun questions, “So what do you like to do Will?”
“I love music. Playing it, listening to it, writing it. Everything about it,” a serene smile flickered across his face as he said this and she could sense how much music really meant to him.
“Do you play instruments?”
“Yeah, lots of them, but most often I play piano and guitar.”
“Well that’s great; both of those will be good activities to help with getting the motor skills perfected in your hands again.” They continued the assessment and Micaela learned all about William’s interest and helped him develop treatment goals and set up times for therapy sessions. Lastly she posted a calendar on his bulletin board. “This is our activity calendar. I’ve circled the sessions that you should attend based on your goals, but basically you can attend any group that interests you.”
“And what groups do you run?” he looked at her with a smirk that stretched to his eyes.
“Mine are the groups highlighted in orange.”
“Well I guess I’ll see you this afternoon at…” he looked at the calendar, “The Sassy Stitchers? What are the Sassy Stitchers.”
“A knitting and crocheting group that’s mostly just girls sitting around gossiping.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you then.”
Micaela smiled to herself, not daring to laugh out loud, cause what if William really got off on knitting or crocheting? Making fun of patient’s hobbies was a huge no-no in her business. She said goodbye to Will and headed out the door, meeting a tall blonde who she recognized as Jamie, Will’s girlfriend, from the picture he showed her earlier.
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