PART FOUR
Rita sat on the couch in Keisha's living room, a cup of coffee forgotten on the table next to her. It was just after 1:00 on Wednesday afternoon, and Rita really didn't feel like going to talk to Dr. Abrams. She knew that the doctor meant well, and she knew that he and Keisha were friends, but she just didn't feel completely comfortable with talking about Chris with a perfect stranger.
A small smile slid across Rita's face as she thought about the way Keisha and Dr. Abrams had railroaded her into agreeing to the weekly visits at the doctor's office. She couldn't believe that they thought she didn't know what they had up their sleeves. Ordinarily, Rita would have protested about seeing a psychiatrist, but in this case she thought it would be easier to give in and go see him. She was sick of feeling like a burden to poor Keisha, and it gave Rita a chance to get out of the house once in a while. But today Rita just didn't want to talk to Abrams. She was unsure of how the doctor would react if she told him how she'd been feeling these past few weeks. She knew it was crazy, but lately she had been having feelings that Chris was alive somewhere, looking for her. If Rita told this to Abrams, he would give her the old song-and-dance about letting Chris go, and getting on with her life, and visiting Chris's grave as an act of finality.
It wasn't like she was in denial about his death. She hadn't always felt like he was still alive. In the beginning, she was perfectly convinced that Chris was gone, and slowly she had started to accept it. But, although she had only the best intentions, when Keisha hauled out the book of pictures a few weeks ago, the feeling that he wasn't dead had hit her all of a sudden.
It seemed that she and Chris could always sense what the other was feeling. It made Rita feel so safe and loved, even before she had admitted to herself that she had feelings for Chris. The safe feeling vanished the instant that Chris was shot and had been replaced with a cold, sick, sinking feeling.
This new feeling had only gotten stronger from the day he died, and it had been with her every single day for four months. Until a few weeks ago, that is.
The day that she and Keisha looked through the photo album, the sick feeling went away all of a sudden. It was such a relief not to have it pressing on her that Rita started to cry. Keisha misunderstood her tears and assumed that Rita thought Chris was alive. It wasn't until recently, however, that Rita really had begun to feel like Chris was alive.
The telephone rang, bringing Rita out of her daydream.
"Hello?"
"Rita! This is Dr. Abrams. Just calling to confirm our appointment. You're still planning to come keep me company, right?"
Rita smiled. The doctor seemed to be able to read her thoughts and understand her hesitancy to see him. She supposed she could go talk to him. After all, he only was trying to help. "Yes, I'll be there at 2:00. See you then, doctor."
Promptly at 2:00, Rita dutifully knocked on Abrams' door and went inside. She smiled at the sight of fresh coffee and danish on a tray on the table. The work of Carol, no doubt.
After speaking briefly with Rita, Abrams suddenly fell silent and merely looked at Rita. Rita looked back calmly, looking directly into the doctor's eyes.
"Rita, I have a proposition for you."
With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she said, "Mmm, a strange doctor is propositioning me. Sounds interesting."
Abrams smiled and said, "No, nothing like that. The medical wing of this hospital is in desperate need for a few part-time volunteers. Sort of like candy stripers. Just some people to work with nurses, assisting them with patients and whatever else they need. I think you would benefit from helping people get well. What do you think? Would you be interested?"
"Well. . ." Rita spoke reluctantly but really thought the idea was a good one. When she had been young, she couldn't decide between wanting to be a police officer and wanting to be a nurse. "Well, I think I would be interested. For a few days a week."
"Excellent. You know, you really are making progress. I think with volunteering at the hospital your mind won't be so focused on Chris and your babies."
"Dr. Abrams, I mean no offense or disrespect, but you don't know what you're talking about. I will never stop thinking about Chris or the twins. Working at the hospital will never make me forget them," Rita said quietly, standing up to leave.
"Now, Rita, you're overreacting."
"I really don't think I am."
"Please sit down. All I meant was that they won't be the only things you think about. You'll have hospital matters to distract yourself. It'll be healthier that way."
Rita wasn't sure she liked the doctor insinuating that she wasn't currently healthy, but she let the comment pass without protest and sat back down. "Fine. Now, where am I supposed to go to sign up?"
Abrams picked up the hospital directory and said, "I can do it for you, right over the phone. Dr. Miller is the head of the department, and he is in charge of the volunteers. Let me look up his pager number. . ." Abrams dialled Miller's pager number and his own office number and hung up the phone. A few seconds later, Abrams' phone rang.
"Miller here."
"John, how are you? This is Mike Abrams."
"Mike! Glad to hear from you. What can I do for you? I don't have very long to talk, though. I'm with an amnesia patient."
"Oh, that's terrible. Give him my name and tell him I'll be here to listen if he needs someone to talk to."
"Of course. Now, what were you going to talk about?"
"I have another volunteer for you. Her name is Rita Lorenzo."
Miller said nothing.
"John? Are you there?" Abrams asked.
"Mike, what was the lady's name again?"
"Lorenzo, Rita Lorenzo. Is everything all right?"
When Abrams repeated her name, Rita leaned forward with a questioning look on her face.
"Um, yes, everything's fine," Miller stuttered. "I'll write her name down on the list. Let's see. Her superior nurse will be--" Miller muttered a short expletive--"Candi Dawes. I hope that your volunteer is patient and not short tempered. Miss Dawes is rather, uh, frustrating."
"I'll be sure to let her know. Mike, are you sure nothing is wrong?"
Abrams asked again.
"There is something that I do need to talk to you about. Don't mention it to. . .to. . ."
"Mrs. Lorenzo?"
"Right. Just keep it quiet until I can talk to you. You'll understand then."
"Well, okay. Talk to you later."
Abrams turned to face Rita. "I think my friend Dr. Miller has been working too long. He sounded strange."
Rita stood up again. "Who did he say that I have to report to?"
"Her name is Candi. Candi Dawes."
Rita rolled her eyes at the name. Names like Candi and Buffy irritated her. They sounded more suitable for little yapping dogs than for people. And it was her experience that people with names like Candi and Buffy reminded her of those yapping dogs.
Two days later, Rita was standing in the hall of the medical wing, waiting for Candi Dawes. Rita had never met her, but Candi was already getting on Rita's nerves. She was twenty minutes late meeting Rita. It would probably take all the patience Rita had just to get through this day. Just as Rita was starting to wonder why she had signed up for this, a woman with dyed blonde hair walked up to her. She had vacant blue eyes and too much makeup on.
"I guess you're Rita."
Annoyed at Candi's lateness, she said coldly, "Yes, I am Rita Lorenzo. I suppose you're Candi?"
Candi looked at Rita, thinking hard. Where had she heard that name--Lorenzo--before?
"Is there anything I'm supposed to do?" Rita was growing more and more angry by the minute.
"You need to get a dress from the nurses' station, and then meet me back here." Candi turned on her heel and walked away.
Rita rolled her eyes at Candi's retreating form. What an idiot.
Candi walked down the hall of the medical wing, hoping that Rita wasn't following her. It was just her luck to be assigned a volunteer who looked like Rita did. Now all the cute patients would look at Rita instead of only at her. Why couldn't she get an ugly volunteer, or, better yet, a cute guy volunteer? Life just wasn't fair. One thing was for sure, though. She was going to keep Rita away from that gorgeous Chris. She was pretty sure that Chris was falling for her, and she didn't want Rita to mess everything up.
She stopped at Chris's room, number 1765. The clipboard that usually was in the plastic carrier on the door was gone. That meant that a doctor was in the room with Chris. The clipboard held papers that described Chris's medical problems. All the patients had one. The doctor would definitely yell at her if she decided to peek into Chris's room, so Candi went back to the desk to wait for Rita.
Twenty minutes later, Candi was finishing up giving Rita a tour of the wing. She pointed to room 1765.
"You don't need to worry about that room. The doctor will only trust me to go in there," Candi said, lying through her teeth. "That patient has a. . .uh. . .special medical problem."
Rita couldn't believe that Candi was lying to her. What reason would she have to lie? Oh well. She turned and followed Candi down the hall but looked back once at the door to room 1765. What could possibly be in there?
Questions? Comments? Criticisms? Smart remarks? Email me at kdl@gulf.net. Just write "Karen's Story, part four" on the subject line. Thanks to everyone who wrote me with comments. I really appreciate them. Keep 'em coming!
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