Page 74 of A Me and Him Thing
It just won’t be me. My life is not an exquisite garden. And it never will be.
Am I feeling sorry for myself? The answer to that is a resounding yes.
I deserve the pity party.
You know what? I’m going to go home and pick myself up. It’s what I always do. It’s the stuff I’m made of.
Pure resilience. Drop me, and I bounce back. Throw me, and I return like a boomerang. Break me, and I glue myself back together.
But right now, I’m allowing myself a meltdown.
No worries. I will rise from the ashes. I always do.
EXCEPT, WHEN Ireturn home with my dignity intact, my townhome feels like a coffin. A place where all my dreams die.
I can’t help myself. Allison’s hospital is not far from where I live. I have this crazy desire to visit her, the woman Ren loves. I just want to see her, to talk to her, to tell her how faithful Ren is to her. To tell her how lucky she is to have such a wonderful man in her life.
She won’t understand. But maybe, just maybe, there’s still a part of her deep inside that comprehends a few things, even though she can’t show it. You never know.
Ren’s schedule is so easy to decipher. I can easily choose a time when I know he won’t be there. After all, I lived in his compartmentalized life for a while. Just to be safe, I choose a late-afternoon visit when I know he’ll be at Exodus.
I purchase a small bouquet of sunflowers and a fresh nightgown.
Armed with my gifts, I gather up my courage and face the front desk, unsure they will let me in.
But I’ve already visited once. My name is still on the list of allowed visitors. It was never removed after our one visit.
I approach Allison’s room with trepidation, unsure if this is a good idea. How will I be received? Will she take one look at me and start screaming?
The nurse stands when I enter the small foyer. It reminds me of a place where visitors sit to watch animals at a zoo. Sit behind glass and watch the show. In spite of the beautiful interior, this is still a hospital.
“I remember you. You came to visit once with Ren,” the nurse says.
I’m sure my red hair makes me unforgettable. “Yes. Would it be all right if I try to visit with Allison? How is she today?”
“She’s had a tough morning, but she’s doing well now.”
“Is it okay?” I find myself hesitant to enter her inner sanctum.
“Of course. Visitors are good for the patients. We always encourage visits.”
“Thank you.”
Allison is sitting in her wheelchair in front of the TV. Her eyes are staring into the distance. I move the chair for visitors so that I’m directly in her line of sight. “Hi, Allison. I’m Bree. You don’t know me. I’m a friend of Ren, your husband. I brought you some sunflowers because I know they’re your favorite.”
I hold them in front of her until her eyes focus on the flowers. She stares at them for a long time. One hand tries to reach for them, but she can’t complete the movement.
“I’ll put them on your nightstand, okay? That way you can see them while you’re in bed.” The flowers are already in a water-filled glass vase, ready to go.
I sit in front of her again, letting my long red hair hang forward, hoping the color will catch her eyes.
It does. Her eyes follow the length of it as if fascinated.
I don’t know what else to do, so I start talking in soft tones, telling her about my life. I start with the day I moved into 5201 Beachcomber Lane. I figure it will take me several visits to get through my life story. In the middle of my story, I reach out and place one hand on hers. She doesn’t recoil. Instead, the most miraculous thing happens. Her eyes meet mine. Like direct contact, as though she’s trying to tell me something. I swear her eyes are so much more lucid than I’d imagined.
I keep talking, one hand on hers, sharing eye contact. I feel an immediate connection with her.
“You’re good with her, Miss Kingston. She likes you. Normally, a stranger sends her into a panic,” the nurse says.
