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.