March 3rd, 2004
"Ok Molly three more times and will be done for the day."
"I don't want to!" I glance up from the latest inslument of Life magazine and start to chuckle at the ladies in front of me.
"What's so damn funny!?" I knew that Molly wouldn't find my strange sense of humor very humorous at this moment I should of tried to be more sensitive to her.
"Just the look of your face and you reminded me of 3 year old. It was cute." Carey you are an idiot! Why don't I ever think before I think?
"A three year old!? That's what I am you know. A helpless child who can't do damn thing for herself."
"No your not Molly you're doing really great." Cynthia says while I nod in agreement.
"You're paid to say that. Now if you don't mind I would like to go home. Now."
"But we have three more to go, remember it's important to keep a strict schedule." Cynthia tells her already aware of the fact Molly would not budge.
"Not now Cynthia, not today. Come on Carey take me home please." I place the magazine down on the chair, walk towards her, and gently push her away. I still had trouble coming to terms with the realization that she couldn't walk. Every day I will wake up and think to myself 'What a horrible dream!' Only to re-discover Molly a little while later sitting in her wheelchair. Three months after the accident, all of her injuries had healed well enough to begin physical therapy. Sadly very little process as been reached. On good days, Molly can stand with the help of the parrell bars, and on rare accusation take a step without any help. The rest of the times she needs someone to help her up, to stay up, and to move. Some days she's fine with the change, learning to accept it. And others like today I know I'll have to begin a suicide watch.
The car ride home was in silence, just like every other day. With the radio being out of commission the quietness echoes loudly in your head. But neither of seems to be willing to be the first to lose in the Silent Game. And as a result the hour and half drive we keep our mouths closed. I'm sure that's not healthy for her pouts of depression, and the doctors along with the counselors have informed me to make sure she talks. The truth of the matter is I hate when people force me to talk when I obviously have no desire to, and it just angers me. I refuse to do that Molly.
"When are you leaving?" I jump at the unexpected sound, luckily I didn't swerve into a vehicle and get us killed. I had been dreading this question, unwilling to accept the fact I would have to leave again.
"I'm not sure. Maybe in November." I have no idea why I said November it was the first month that popped in my head I suppose.
"Carey no. I love you, your friendship, and all you have helped me with in these past few months. But you have to leave. It's not like I won't like to keep you here with me forever, you're still young, and have the world to uncover for yourself. And don't worry about me. I will be fine. So please Carey." I knew all of that, I knew she was right. If that's the case why am I having so much trouble letting go? Then I start to think about The Horse Riddles, they'd drop the new guitar player in flash if I returned. I thought about girls. Not any pacific girl but just girls in general. Maybe I would change that leaving date to later this month.