Hunter Hill University: Reaching Rose Part 7

12.

BEN.

Johnny and I were disappointed when Rose didn't show up to watch a movie with us last night. Truth be told, I was the one disappointed. Johnny seemed uninterested in even watching the movie. The poor guy gets tired easily, and last night, he looked beat. His curtain is closed this morning, and it sounds like he's still sleeping, despite it being nearly eleven in the morning.

Sat.u.r.days are a little more laid back, and we only have one therapy session, so we're allowed to sleep in if we choose to. I chose not to and had breakfast in the cafeteria with a lot of the center's employees and the patients' visitors. There were some patients eating in the cafe, but I think most of them were outpatients. The inpatients usually eat in the rec center.

But after breakfast, I came back to the room to see if Johnny wanted to hang. Since he's still sleeping, I head down to the rec and promise myself I'll sit and rest my leg when I get there. It's hard to sit still, but Craig insists that I rest it, and because I still have some pain and weakness, I intend on obeying him. I grab a soda out of the fridge, sit on one of the reclining couches and give my mom a call.

"Benito, it's so good to hear your voice," she says upon answering.

"Hey, Ma. Miss you."

"Miss you too, Benny. How's pain?"

"Pain's not too bad. I'm doin' good. They unlocked my brace, so I'm walking around again."

"Oh, so good. When you come home?"

"Not sure. My therapist said another week."

"Good. Good. Papa and I come see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. That'd be good. Listen, Ma, can you or Dad call the doctor? Craig said he wanted me to get an MRI on my knee, but I didn't want to call the doctor from here. So you think you can call?

"Sure. I'll call Monday. I don't think he's in on Sat.u.r.day. I'll try though, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Ma. See ya tomorrow?"

"See ya tomorrow, baby. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

Just as I slip my phone into the pocket of my sweats, I see Rose walk in with one of the weekend nurses. The nurse is talking to her, and Rose is just nodding. When the nurse points over to the lounge area, Rose shrugs, and then she sees me. I hope this encourages her to sit here.

She looks down at the floor, but I notice she allows the nurse to lead her over here.

"You want to sit here?" the nurse asks, pointing to the couch that sits adjacent to mine.

"Rose, why don't you sit here?" I speak quickly, before she has a chance to respond to the nurse.

"Oh, you know each other?" the nurse asks, taking Rose by the elbow and guiding her in my direction. "Okay, if you need anything, just press the b.u.t.ton on your pager."

"You have a pager?" I ask Rose after her nurse leaves.

I expect her to nod in response, but she presses her lips together then opens them and takes a breath. "I guess they give them to the patients who can't get around on their own."

Oh my G.o.d, her voice is soft, and sweet, and childlike. I nod and stare. And then I come back to Earth. "You have a sweet voice. You should use it more often."

Her peachy complexion turns more peach. "Thank you," she says very softly.

"We missed you last night."

She just nods.

"Cat got your tongue again?"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, but she does present me with a close-mouthed smile.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was trying to make a joke, but...it wasn't funny. I'm sorry."

Again, her eyes close briefly, and she laughs one silent laugh.

"Please don't stop talking again on account of my being an a.s.s. You have such a sweet voice. It's meant to be heard."

"S'okay." She barely opens her mouth, but at least she says something.

"Do you have therapy at noon too?" I'm trying to make small talk, but it's difficult. I don't want to say anything that might offend her or trigger her tears. I'm not sure what I said yesterday to cause them, but I'm afraid to do it again.

Now I know I have the option of just leaving her be. Not paying any attention to her. Hey, if someone doesn't want your friends.h.i.+p, why try to attain it? But I don't think that's the case with Rose. I believe with Rose, it's a matter of helping her see through this. It's not that she doesn't want me as a friend - it's that she doesn't know how to be a friend in her new body. She doesn't know how to exist in her new life.

Rose holds up her fingers, and at first I think she's telling me to, "Wait a second," but she's actually telling me she has therapy at one.

"Ah. Mine's at noon...obviously."

"Are...you here long? At...rehab?" Her voice is tiny, but it's beautiful. It flows, like a song.

"No. About another week. You?"

She shrugs. "Guess it depends on me." She frowns.

"On you?"

"I...I haven't been well behaved," she speaks under her breath; I can barely hear her.

"Well behaved, did you say?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"You're the quietest girl I've ever met. I don't believe you have it in you to misbehave."

She closes her eyes again. Only this time, she keeps them closed, and I'm hoping I haven't caused her to cry again.

"Rose?"

She turns her head and looks at me. Right in the eyes. "I'm not a happy person. And I haven't been very cooperative."

"I'm sure it's not easy facing a substantial lifestyle change." While I'm speaking the words, I'm wondering if I shouldn't be saying them, but I want to get close to this girl. I know she intrigues me, but she also smells so. d.a.m.n. Good.

"It hasn't been. No," she admits quietly.

She's struggling. I hear it in her barely audible voice. I see it in the way her fists are tightly clenched. And I see it in the rigid way she holds herself.

"I have no way of knowing what you are going through right now, but I imagine you'll learn to adjust. Eventually."

She only nods. Her fists are still clenched so tightly, her knuckles are bright white. I'm also guessing her fingers are in an awful lot of pain as well.

"You're in good hands here. My coach thinks so anyway. He's the one making me be here."

I laugh at the confusion on her face.

"I had meniscus repair surgery. I could have recovered from home. Gone to therapy a couple times a week as an outpatient. But he's ensuring that I'm fully capable to be back on the field for the spring season. His words. Not mine."

"Baseball?"

"Yup. Pitcher."

She nods her approval.

I want to ask her if she does any sports, but thankfully, for a change, my mouth doesn't spew before my brain has a chance to register what it's going to say, and I refrain from asking her something that I'm positive would trigger tears. At the very least, resentment.

I'm just about to ask her what kind of music she likes, but there's a guy wearing athletic gear and an unb.u.t.toned lab coat standing at the door, searching for Benito Falco.

"That's me," I answer, standing up.

"I'm your PT today."

"Oh." I look at Rose. "Hopefully I'll see you later?"

She just nods. But I get a smile. Complete with dimple and all.

13.

ROSE.

Thank G.o.d he left.

I couldn't stand talking to him.

It took all my mental strength to not scream or, and this is new for me, to not punch something.

Ben is sweet. He's funny. He's so darn cute. In my old life, I'd have loved every single moment he'd pay me any attention. But today. Now. Me being a total mess. Scarred down one whole side of my body. I couldn't not be preoccupied with how I probably look from his eyes.

Will I be this self-conscious the rest of my life?

Before the accident, I never gave a second thought about my appearance. Yes, I took care to look neat and put-together. And yes, I kept myself trim so I'd look good dancing on stage.

But I never.

Never.

Cared how I looked while having a conversation with another person.

Now.

It's all I can think about.

Poor Rose with her half-a-leg and Jack Skellington face.

I guess I'm more vain than I thought I was.

But before I'm able to slink too far into myself, the rec room phone rings, and the aide who answers it tells me it's for me.

I point to myself, unbelieving that someone would be calling on the phone for me.

"You're Rose Duncan, right?"

"Yes," I say, too low for her to hear, but I nod my head and use the arm of the couch and my cane to slowly come to a stand.

When the aide sees me struggling, she motions to help me, but I hold up my hand, to my surprise, in silent protest. I got it, my mind says, though my mouth doesn't.

"h.e.l.lo?" I keep my voice low when I take the receiver.

"Rose? Is that you, honey? You're really talking again?"

"Mom?"

"Dr. Rappaport called me to tell me. Oh, baby, you don't know how happy that makes me. Oh, I want to come down today, but Daddy's so busy on the farm. But I told Dr. Rappaport if you needed me, I'd come."

"No. Mom...it's okay."

"Really? Dr. Rappaport didn't think it was necessary, but I wanted to check with you. You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Rose. He said you hit the anger stage."