:n e v a e h:
"We should go before breakfast gets cold," I thought aloud, handing my head a little bit as I started to make my way toward the dining room down the hall. The nurses had begun to gather by their small station on the recreational half of the floor, and they were talking hurriedly about Savannah. One of them pointed out the group that had gathered outside the rooms, and they talked about that too. They never really did anything. They just talked about it. It was sick to think about it. How could they just stand there? He needed them. But I halted that train in its tracks. He needed us more, and none of us moved to help. But I think we were all too stunned by the fact that he could generate such a reaction to actually move. Then how come I could move just fine and I was retrieving my tray from the cart and slipping into the dining room with it instead? It wasn't because I didn't care. It was because I knew precisely what would happen when I went to talk to him. He would ignore me, pretend that I was just a breeze flowing in the window, and brush me off like I was a spider on his shoulder. Disgusted. That was what he was. He hated me right now for exposing something so close to him that he probably felt like I had grabbed him around the waist and spun him around so fast that he threw up when I stopped. I felt so terrible. Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut?
This morning's breakfast was pancakes and a blueberry muffin, both still hot from the covers that were placed over them, like in those movies where the servants set the plates down infront of a bunch of aristocrats or royalty. But plastic. The covers were dark blue or red, the plates a dull grey with black speckles, and we were allowed to use actual silverware. Coffee was provided to those of us who drank it, or tea, as well as a container of juice or milk. Almost everyone usually got something different and alot of the time, we'd end up trading our food. Maybe just giving it away if we didn't want it. And anything we didn't eat or drink, as long as it was properly stored, we could put it in the fridge in the kitchen for later. It wasn't really a kitchen, though. It was a small room with a sink, a fridge, a few cupboards, a microwave, a coffee maker, and a kettle. That was it. It was a half-kitchen. It was across the hall from the open space with the TV and gaming systems, where we occassionally had group activities, and where I once fell asleep on the couch before falling victim to the lightweight — but still painful — antics of Savannah Reynalds for the first time when he jumped on me and told me that I should be sleeping in my room. And after that, he removed himself and apologized, because he didn't want to give me the wrong impression — I wasn't allowed to touch him because he was, and I quote, "Aerobic.... Ap-ferphoric.... Assferpho— Never mind. I don't like it when people touch me." End quote. Luckily, since then, he'd figured out who to wrap his mouth around the word 'Aphephobic'....
What a cute kid.
I recovered my food and waited for the others. I don't think I had ever started eating without them. I'd never really thought about it before. Usually, we all just kind of travelled here in one big group, but today I had a few moments of solitude before I had to face them again.
"We should go before breakfast gets cold," I thought aloud, handing my head a little bit as I started to make my way toward the dining room down the hall. The nurses had begun to gather by their small station on the recreational half of the floor, and they were talking hurriedly about Savannah. One of them pointed out the group that had gathered outside the rooms, and they talked about that too. They never really did anything. They just talked about it. It was sick to think about it. How could they just stand there? He needed them. But I halted that train in its tracks. He needed us more, and none of us moved to help. But I think we were all too stunned by the fact that he could generate such a reaction to actually move. Then how come I could move just fine and I was retrieving my tray from the cart and slipping into the dining room with it instead? It wasn't because I didn't care. It was because I knew precisely what would happen when I went to talk to him. He would ignore me, pretend that I was just a breeze flowing in the window, and brush me off like I was a spider on his shoulder. Disgusted. That was what he was. He hated me right now for exposing something so close to him that he probably felt like I had grabbed him around the waist and spun him around so fast that he threw up when I stopped. I felt so terrible. Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut?
This morning's breakfast was pancakes and a blueberry muffin, both still hot from the covers that were placed over them, like in those movies where the servants set the plates down infront of a bunch of aristocrats or royalty. But plastic. The covers were dark blue or red, the plates a dull grey with black speckles, and we were allowed to use actual silverware. Coffee was provided to those of us who drank it, or tea, as well as a container of juice or milk. Almost everyone usually got something different and alot of the time, we'd end up trading our food. Maybe just giving it away if we didn't want it. And anything we didn't eat or drink, as long as it was properly stored, we could put it in the fridge in the kitchen for later. It wasn't really a kitchen, though. It was a small room with a sink, a fridge, a few cupboards, a microwave, a coffee maker, and a kettle. That was it. It was a half-kitchen. It was across the hall from the open space with the TV and gaming systems, where we occassionally had group activities, and where I once fell asleep on the couch before falling victim to the lightweight — but still painful — antics of Savannah Reynalds for the first time when he jumped on me and told me that I should be sleeping in my room. And after that, he removed himself and apologized, because he didn't want to give me the wrong impression — I wasn't allowed to touch him because he was, and I quote, "Aerobic.... Ap-ferphoric.... Assferpho— Never mind. I don't like it when people touch me." End quote. Luckily, since then, he'd figured out who to wrap his mouth around the word 'Aphephobic'....
What a cute kid.
I recovered my food and waited for the others. I don't think I had ever started eating without them. I'd never really thought about it before. Usually, we all just kind of travelled here in one big group, but today I had a few moments of solitude before I had to face them again.