Read Online Me Again by Keith Cronin - Free Book Online

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    “Good, so it’s not just me.”
    While she hung the dress back up, she said, “The red one seems more like something to wear to a nice restaurant or a nightclub. Not to go for a walk in the hospital garden. Oh, and speaking of going for a walk, want to see something?”
    With that, she stepped tentatively away from her walker and picked up a cane that I hadn’t noticed lying on the bed.
    “Look,” she said, again with that shy little smile. She began to walk slowly back and forth in the room, using only a cane.
    “Rebecca, that’s great! I can’t believe it!”
    “I’ve been practicing so hard,” she said. “Thank God the floors in PT are padded – I went down a lot. But I’m getting there, aren’t I?”
    Her voice might not have registered her emotions, but her face did: this was the most light I’d ever seen in her eyes.
    “Getting there? You are there,” I said, smiling helplessly. “You’re there.”
    “I can’t wait to show Big Bob,” she said.
    Not wanting to diminish her excitement, I steeled myself and replied. “He’ll be amazed,” I promised. “You’re doing so great. You’ll knock him dead.”
    She plopped down on the bed next to where I sat in my wheelchair. “God, I hope so.” Turning to face me, she said, “Thank you for helping me with this.”
    “Glad to help,” I said.
    “It really means a lot to me.”
    I nodded, unsure what to say.
    After an awkward silence, she said, “Well, I better start getting ready.”
    She struggled to her feet, leaning in close to me as she pushed herself off the bed. With only the cane to support her, it took her a moment to get herself upright and stable again. During that moment I took in her smell, fresh and clean. And I felt an ache in my heart, not unlike the feeling of loss I experienced when I learned about Rufus.
    “When’s your husband coming?” I asked, regaining my composure.
    “At three,” she said. “So I’ve still got a couple hours to get ready. I’ve got one of the nurses coming to help me with my makeup.”
    She looked at me intently, again with that extra light in her eyes. “Then, when it’s time, instead of waiting for Bob to come up to my room, I’m going to go down and meet him in the lobby. Standing on my own two feet, with only this cane to help me. He’s going to be so surprised.”
    Even with that muted, scratchy, vulnerable little voice, I could hear her pride.
    “He’ll be amazed,” I assured her again.
    Rebecca’s gaze shifted to the clock over the door. Picking up her cue, I said, “I’ll get going. Have a great visit, okay?” I began to wheel out of the room.
    “I will. And thank you, Jonathan. You helped me a lot.”
    “You’re welcome, Rebecca. Good luck.”
    At the sound of her name she gave me one last little smile, then closed the door as I wheeled into the hallway.
    “Knock him dead,” I said quietly, rolling towards the elevator. “Knock him dead.”
    A voice answered me from my left, in words I didn’t quite catch. I stopped and swiveled my wheelchair in front of a door that stood open along the hallway, and saw a familiar face.
    “Oh,” I said. “Hi, Mr. Samuels.”
    The old man sat in a wheelchair by the writing desk in his room, which was set up just like mine and Rebecca’s. He was facing his open doorway, watching the hallway traffic as it passed by his room.
    He smiled feebly with the side of his face that still worked and said, “Cheese rabbit, suitcase?”
    I’d first become acquainted with Mr. Samuels down in the PT room, where he could occasionally be found working on very basic physical movements with his therapist. Already old and frail, his body had been ravaged by a severe stroke some time before my arrival at the hospital. Yet he maintained a pleasant disposition, despite aphasia having rendered him incapable of speaking in a way anybody could understand. Leon had said some of the hospital staff privately called him “Sammy Salad,” due to the