by Annette Mori
My older sister turned to my younger sister. “And, Evie, you are a self-centered shell of a human being.”
“Enough, Fran. Take Evie to the cafeteria and we’ll join you in a little bit,” Dad ordered.
“Fine, but I’m coming back after you fulfill your obligations.” Fran gestured as if she was placing quotations marks around the word obligations. “I’ll ask Brad to come and get me, so you can leave after your normal two hour visit.”
Fran grabbed Evie by her arm to lead her out of the room.
“Ouch. Quit being such a bossy turd,” Evie exclaimed.
“Shut up before I bitch slap you into the next century,” Fran retorted as they both left the room.
At least that was something that hadn’t changed in six years—Fran and Evie were still bickering at one another.
Mom sighed. She pulled my dad off to the side and tried to talk quietly with him so that I wouldn’t hear, but when a person has multiple debilitating disabilities, other abilities begin to develop to compensate. “Maybe we made the wrong choice. Fran is so angry with us. I was only trying to shelter them from heartache. I should have known that Fran’s faith in her sister would be a positive influence. I don’t want to come down too hard on Evie. She was so young when Belinda got sick and it frightened her so.”
Dad stroked her head. “I know, hon, but Fran is an adult now and strong enough to make decisions on her own. Regarding Evie, something else is going on with her though, because last night she seemed like she wanted to visit, but her reaction today…oh, I don’t know. Maybe you should talk with her.”
I tuned out the rest of their conversation as I focused on the fact that my older sister wasn’t avoiding me. We’d always been close and now that I knew I had her support, I felt better. Evie was Evie and whatever was going on in her head, I’m sure Fran would tell me about it. Fran had a direct way about her. She never beat around the bush—always told it like it was. I admired that about her, but I was sure that sometimes it didn’t make her the most popular person. Fran was fiercely loyal and I could easily forgive her for her bluntness at times.
Mom and Dad continued to talk between themselves while I stared blankly at the institutional white walls. Sometimes I occupied my time by making up little stories in my head. One day I would write them down and maybe I’d become a famous writer. Anything was possible now that I had Fran and Carly in my corner.
It was probably four o’clock in the afternoon when my parents left. Fran came back into the room and hugged me.
I tried to move my arms just a little bit to let her know I appreciated the hug and her support. She sat down in the chair next to me, tilted her head, and looked directly at me.
“So, Carly told me that if I wanted to have a meaningful conversation with you I had to think up yes and no questions. Well, I’m pretty rusty at twenty questions, but I’ll give it a try. Are you game?” she asked.
I blinked my affirmation to her question.
“All-righty then. Before I start drilling you with questions—just kidding, I promise not to interrogate you—I want to tell you why Evie was acting so strange. God, I hate Facebook. It’s just a new way to bully people.”
I just looked at her and she must have recognized the confusion on my face.
“Oh, wow, I forget how much you’ve missed during the past six years. Facebook is this whole new craze where people connect with each other all across the world and sometimes write the stupidest shit on what is called their wall. Hmmm, how do I explain it so you understand? They call it social media. You create an internet account, add all kinds of information about yourself on the account, including pictures, where you live, where you go to school, even who you’re dating, then you reach out to other people and ask them to friend you. All your friends can see the information you post about yourself and your popularity is measured by how many friends you have.”
Fran shifted in her chair to get more comfortable. “Anyway, I used to have an account because sometimes people would post funny videos and jokes, but when my friends, and I use that word lightly, started posting ridiculous things like what they had for breakfast or cruel things about someone else, I deleted my account. I haven’t missed it one bit. Having two or three close friends that I have actual face-to-face conversations with is far better than having inane contact with two hundred people. So, now do you understand the concept of Facebook?”
I blinked once.
“No big surprise that Facebook is right up Evie’s alley. Anyway, Evie is Facebook friends with Tammie, Carly’s supposed best friend. That little shit posted on Facebook that Carly is a disgusting dyke and she wanted everyone to know that she had no idea and now that Carly has confided in her, they weren’t friends anymore. She encouraged everyone else to de-friend Carly. When she visits tomorrow, she could really use your support. News like this travels fast on Facebook. Tammie, of course, ran right over to console Jacob, and Jacob is acting like he’s devastated by the news. Coward. I’d bet my car that he’s gay and now he’s playing the victim so he doesn’t have to face the music himself. Did Carly already tell you she’s gay?” Fran asked.
I blinked to let her know I already knew.
“I thought so. I’m guessing she already told you before she told Jacob and Tammie. Is that right?”
I confirmed her guess with a blink.
“Belinda, I know my next question might be hard to answer, but I want the truth. Did you think I didn’t care about you anymore because I haven’t visited these past three months?”
I hesitated because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but finally, I blinked once.
Fran’s eyes watered as she responded. “I thought so. I’m so sorry. I should have insisted. When I heard about your progress after running into Carly at the movies the weekend I visited, I confronted Mom and Dad. They convinced me that it would be better to wait just a little bit. I should have never listened to them. You believe me, don’t you?”
This time my single blink was instantaneous.
Fran stayed for another couple of hours filling me in on her life. She talked about her boyfriend, Brad, and told me they would come back together so I could meet him. She insisted that I would like Brad and the way she described him, I had no doubt that I would. She told me all about her college experience and how it seemed to fit her better than high school. She described how high school for her seemed like an endless game of meaningless interactions. Everyone was so plastic, according to Fran. She told me I lucked out, never having to experience high school and the pettiness of girl cliques. I suspected that Fran had experienced her fair share of bullying.
Even though she assured me that I would have hated high school, I still felt like I’d missed a major milestone in life that I knew I’d never get back. I’d never go to prom, attend a football game, or experience the angst of trying to fit into some group—whatever that group might be.
It’s much harder than you think to ask only yes and no questions. A person has to guess what the other person is thinking or feeling. Fran did her best, but Carly was the master at asking questions and being able to decipher a lot more from me than Fran, regarding my thoughts and feelings on various issues. Carly could read my expressions and just know where to take the conversation. I had no doubt that, in time, Fran could do the same, but I was not planning to be verbally uncommunicative forever.
Before Fran left, she promised she would visit again very soon. She was on Christmas break. She informed me she would be a right pain in the ass and that all too soon I would be begging her to stay away. I knew she was joking and I wished I could tell her that I would never tire of her visits—just like I never tired of Carly’s.
Chapter Nine
Fran was true to her word and came by around one o’clock the next afternoon. I was happy to see her, but I was worried about Carly and what Fran told me about the Facebook thing. I wondered if Tammie’s response to her big confession devastated Carly. From what Fran told me, I knew things hadn’t gone
well.
“Hey, little sis. I know that Carly comes by on Sunday sometimes after Mom and Dad visit. I didn’t realize they’ve been coming to visit more frequently. I suppose I was a bit harsh on them yesterday, but I thought they were still only visiting on Saturdays. I hope you don’t mind me crashing your party with Carly. Besides, I want to assure Carly that she has another supporter besides you. I could kick both Tammie and Evie’s asses for their ridiculous posts on Facebook. I’m ashamed to say I’m related to Evie. She’s so worried about her own reputation that she’s aligned with that shit for brains ex-friend of Carly’s. Even though Carly is a couple of years behind me, she was always a decent person and now that she’s your friend and champion, I hold her in even higher esteem.”
Fran got a mischievous grin on her face. “I was thinking that maybe between the two of us we could convince the overprotective nurses that a little field trip would be good for your spirits. What do you think, Belinda? Would you like us to spring you from this temporary prison so you can see all the Christmas decorations in town?” she asked.
She watched me carefully as I blinked once.
“Good girl. I knew you would be up for an adventure. We’ll wrap you up completely so you don’t catch a chill.”
Carly walked into the room shortly after Fran revealed her master plan. I could tell something was wrong right away by the way she entered the room. Normally Carly came bounding into the room with a spring to her step. Today she barely shuffled in.
She hesitated for a second when she saw Fran. “Hey Fran. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were visiting today. Should I let you visit with her and come back tomorrow instead?”
“No way. Don’t be a silly goose. You and I are going be partners in crime soon,” Fran joked.
Carly raised her eyebrow. “You’re not afraid I’m going to tarnish your sister’s reputation?” she mumbled bitterly.
“Of course not. Don’t think for one second that I agree with my dumb ass sister, Evie. She’s a bitch and so is Tammie. My roommate’s gay and she is the sweetest person on earth. I don’t give two shits who you choose to sleep with and I’m pretty sure Belinda doesn’t care either.” Fran glanced at me. “Do you, Bels?”
I blinked twice with authority.
“See, Bels couldn’t care less, too,” Fran noted.
Carly smiled at both of us and I could tell that Fran’s declaration cheered her up, even if it was short lived. I wished I could be the one to do that for her.
Carly looked down. “I suppose you saw the posts.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. Evie showed them to me yesterday. If it makes you feel any better, I bitched her out for more than an hour. At least I got her to agree not to add to the venom.”
Carly shrugged and then, as if she suddenly remembered why she was here, she approached me with her new habit of kissing my cheek and grabbing my hand.
Fran watched us carefully and after seeing Carly hold my hand, a wide smile blossomed across her beautiful face. “Carly, I want you to know how grateful I am that you came into Belinda’s life. If it hadn’t been for you, we would have never known about her progress. I can see how she lights up when you enter the room.” She looked between the two of us. “Do you want me to come back later after you two have had a chance to visit? I suspect you want to fill her in on everything that’s happened in the past couple of days.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m dying to know what this grand adventure is that you want my help with.”
Fran smacked her hands together. “You have pull with your mom, right?”
“Sometimes,” Carly hesitated.
“Do you think you can convince your mom to let us take Belinda out to see the Christmas lights today?”
Carly looked at me and her eyes twinkled. “Do you want to see the lights, Belinda?” she asked.
I blinked once so fast I wasn’t sure she caught my answer. I was so excited to get out of the room that I didn’t care if it was twenty below outside. Carly knew my expressions and I could tell she picked up on the hope in my eyes.
“All right. Let me do some magic and get my mom to agree to it. First, I’ll go cozy up to Nurse Porter. She’s the one we really need to convince. Everyone thinks the doctors have all the power, but in reality, it’s the nurses who run this place.”
When Carly left the room, Fran narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you feel something more for Carly than just friendship?”
I blinked three times.
“Okay, Carly told me that three blinks means you don’t know.” Fran sighed. “Wow, things must be really confusing for you right now. Well, listen, if it’s any consolation to you, I think Carly may be a little confused herself about her feelings for you. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her feelings run deeper than friendship. Be careful, little sis, things could get very complicated for you, but know that I’ll love you, no matter what.”
That was the first time I’d ever really considered my feelings for Carly. It was still a little foreign to me, but she managed to firmly plant the thought in my brain—like a stubborn weed that refused plucking from the hard earth.
Carly bounced back into the room with an ear-to-ear grin on her face.
“I have no idea why they call her Nurse Ratched. Porter is cool with it. She said I should double check with Mom first, but she thought it was a good idea. The only problem is how we’ll bundle her up. I don’t think Belinda has any winter clothes here and certainly not a winter coat.”
Carly scrunched up her face before proclaiming, “I have some extra coats and wool blankets back at home. I also have some really warm sweats that I’m sure Belinda would fit into. I’ll run back home and while I’m there I’ll tell Mom the plan. I can tell her Nurse Porter said it would be fine as long as she gives us her blessing. Hey, you don’t think your mom and dad will mind, do you?”
“I always say it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Fran giggled and they smacked their hands together in a high five.
†
When Carly bounced back into my room, she was carrying a medium sized duffel bag.
“Mom gave her blessing as long your parents were okay with it. I sorta left her with the impression it was fine with them, because I told her that you were here and we would be taking you together. I suppose, technically, that might be considered a sin of omission. I’d feel bad about it if I didn’t think this was important to do,” Carly admitted.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to finagle the situation to make sure I get my parents’ approval without letting them know we already did this,” Fran replied. “Um, I don’t want to hurt my sister. Maybe we should get one of the nurses or aides to help us get her dressed.”
Carly waved her hand. “I can do it. I’ve helped out lots of times when they’ve been short staffed here. I’ve even given her a bath.”
Fran turned to me. “Bels, is it okay if Carly and I get you dressed, or would you rather have one of the nurses do it?”
Carly laughed and Fran smacked her hand to her head. “Damn, I forgot, I can’t ask two opposing questions. Sorry, Bels. Okay, let me try this again. Bels, do you want me to get the nurse to help get you dressed?”
I blinked twice to let them know I would prefer not to have to call the nurses for help. Admittedly, some were better than others. Nessa was good, but she was off today.
I’d grown accustomed to Carly helping out and I didn’t mind feeling exposed in front of her. She never made a big deal out of it. She acted as though it was the most normal thing in the world to dress and bathe me. If I were completely honest with myself—which, at the time, I wasn’t—I was not only comfortable with her touch, I craved it. Even though I still had limited movement, I could feel everything. I suppose one might argue that because some of my other abilities were limited or non-existent, my sense of touch overcompensated for my shortcomings and was therefore hypersensitive.
Carly began to unbutton the soft flannel shirt the aide put on me earlier in the day. They neve
r bothered to put on a bra because my breasts were on the smaller side and I’m sure they thought it would be uncomfortable. Of course, I knew that women wore bras, but I never gave it a second thought.
“How come she’s not wearing a bra?” Fran asked.
Carly shrugged. “Would you wear a bra if you didn’t have to?”
“No, I guess I wouldn’t, but she’s young now and it probably doesn’t matter, but what about when she turns fifty and her breasts start sagging to her knees cause she didn’t wear a bra when she was younger.”
Carly waved her hand. “Oh, poo, that’s an old wives tale. I read something once that said they did some research in France and found that just the opposite was true. Apparently, there are ligaments that support your breasts and when you wear a bra the ligaments atrophy and cause more sagging, not less. It’s society that has drummed that stupid idea in our heads. If I could get away with it, I’d never wear a bra either, but Mom won’t let me. She doesn’t think it’s too funny when my nipples show in a tight top. I tried once and she told me to march right back up and get a bra on because she wasn’t going to answer a call from the school about inappropriate dress.”
Carly pushed the shirt off my shoulders. “Hey, would you grab the T-shirt from the bag?”
“It’s like thirty degrees out…,” Fran began to say.
“I know, it’s just an under layer. Remember, I’m an expert on experimenting without a bra and I found out that without an undershirt—something soft preferably—your nipples rub against the fabric of a shirt. I picked out my softest tee to put on under my warmest hoodie.”
“Oh, good thought.” Fran rummaged through the bag, pulled out the T-shirt and tossed it to Carly.
After Carly pulled it over my head, the shirt clung to my body like it was specifically made as a molded covering.
Carly nodded. “I thought it would fit well. T-shirts should be tight enough not to rub—this one looks like it fits her like a glove.” She glanced to Fran, who had pulled out a thick hoodie. “Perfect, toss me the hoodie. Next, we’ll put on the sweats. I think we can just leave her underwear on and just replace these horrible granny pants. Is that okay with you, Belinda?” she asked.