Author's Note: Oh, what the hey - you've all been really patient through my laziness, I'll just go ahead and post two chapters in one day.
Lose Yourself
Chapter 10
*~ Syren ~*
* ~ *
Last Chapter: Beth and Jimmy have a chat, which ends with 'Friends.' Lisa didn't have time to perfect any recipes, but she made dinner anyway… Had a chat with Dave – results in "awww-ing."
* ~ *
All eyes were on Lisa when she descended the stairs to the kitchen the next morning, the clock chiming ten times. Joe, Max, Matthew and Beth waited patiently in silence at the large dining room table as she poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed the World News section of the newspaper, and meandered over to them. Sitting at the side, she glanced towards the head of the table, half expecting Dave to be there. She even missed the conference table.
Dismissing the rest, Lisa continued reading, unbeknownst to her the eyes that bore into her forehead. Taking a sip from her mug, she looked at it a second, then slammed it down on the table, disregarding the burning sensation on her hand when the liquid sloshed out.
"What is it?" she demanded, eyeing each of her coworkers in turn. Without a second glance, Matthew, Joe and Max ran from their seats, eager to escape the wrath that was Lisa. Still, Beth remained, idly snapping her gum and returning the stare Lisa gave her.
"Did you have a nice night last night?" she asked, her voice casual. Frowning, Lisa got up to retrieve a napkin for the mess she had made.
"Dave and I talked last night…" Lisa answered, returning to mop up the spill.
Beth was incredulous. "And this talk you had lasted all night?"
A shocked expression replaced Lisa's indifferent one. "Whatever you're thinking didn't happen, Beth."
"I wasn't suggesting anything," she replied, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Lisa…"
"We're friends, Beth," she exclaimed matter-of-factly. "Nothing more."
Though Lisa looked away, hiding the doubts that were in her own eyes, Beth's were deadlocked on her. " Then why is this so hard for you?"
* ~ *
"I thought you said it was nearby," Dave wondered out loud. He and Jimmy James had to set out by 9:00 to meet their 10:30 Saturday appointment at the Diabetic Therapy Station. Shrugging, Jimmy continued humming along with the radio.
"It was… with the helicopter." Sighing, Dave rubbed his eyes tiredly. Though he knew the physical therapy was needed, he obviously wasn't looking forward to it; he wasn't ready for it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn't ready for reality. For as long as he could remember, he had always been so sure of himself, even during his blood pressure scare. He hadn't feared what the future would bring, though in consolation, he never dreamed of anything to this extent. And for the first time in quite a while, he admitted to himself… he was scared.
Interrupting his own thoughts, Dave looked over at Jimmy. "Mr. James, how long was Nancy with me at the hospital?"
Jimmy's expression was thoughtful. The sweet girl had gone through so much during the last few months, never losing faith. He could still see the love she felt for him. "She was there for quite awhile, Dave." Smiling, he gave a sideways glance to the man beside him. "In the beginning, you woke up once for a few minutes, and she was right at your side ever since. I do believe she's still in New York."
Turning his head forward again, Dave stared out at the sky ahead of him, marveling at the accumulating rain clouds. The blue was fading to a wispy gray, spanning for miles ahead. Still, during the engine's lulls at stoplights, he could hear some birds singing…
"So what do you think?" Jimmy asked, hoping to sound offhand. Dave was silent, keeping his stare on the road ahead of him. She's done so much, but it's been so long…
"I don't know, sir. I guess time will tell…"
Nodding understandably, Jimmy was thankful when the building came into sight. Swerving the car into the parking lot, he pulled out a handicap parking sign and placed it on his rearview mirror. Frowning, Dave gaped at him.
"Sir, you're not handicapped."
Jimmy chuckled. "No, but you are."
"I don't believe I am, sir."
"But you are. Just for the sake of parking, play along."
Shaking his head, Dave stepped out of the car and followed the older man inside. The building was three stories high and appeared relatively uninviting. "Which floor are we on, Mr. James?"
"Right here," he answered, opening the first door on the right. Thanking him, Dave stepped inside and headed to the receptionist's booth. After signing his name on a sheet, the portly woman through the booth's window handed him a clipboard and pen. Filling out the forms as quickly as he could, he returned them to her and took a seat next to Jimmy, who was already flipping through a Time Magazine. Sighing, he leaned comfortably in his seat, preparing himself for what he suspected would be at least an hour's wait.
"Mr. Nelson?" A man stood in the doorway next to the receptionist, glancing around the room for him. Impressed, Dave cast a questioning look at his entourage.
"What?" Jimmy asked, divulged in his magazine. "Good service can easily be bought."
Standing, Dave made his way over to the man, who smiled and held out his hand. Shaking it, Dave introduced himself.
"It's nice to meet you, Dave. I'm Dr. Sutton, and I'll be seeing to your session today." Gesturing down the hall, the two started towards a far room, Dr. Sutton flipping through his medical sheets. "I can tell by your stride that you're having some agitation in your leg muscles?" Nodding, Dave let him continue. "Nothing to worry about. That's what your therapy is for."
"So what kind of program am I in for?" Dave asked, following Dr. Sutton into the last room of the hall. Inside, he expected an analysis room, but instead, they had entered a small office. Dr. Sutton took a seat in front of his desk, offering the chair on the opposite side to his patient.
"They're more like a syllabus of sessions, Mr. Nelson," he replied, again scanning the medical sheets before him. "They will begin on your next visit. Today, we'll run some preliminary tests…" The doctor hesitated. "Mr. Nelson, I have a matter to discuss with you." Seeing that Dave agreed, Dr. Sutton proceeded. "Earlier I spoke with your doctor, Dr. Cohen, over the phone. I let him know of a procedure for your condition, and he gave the OK. It's now for your consideration."
"A procedure?"
"I'm sure you are aware of the insulin injections you are required to take." Dave nodded. "Type 1 Diabetes can lead to complications affecting almost every part of the body. This disease launched a number of institutes across the country, each searching for a cure. Recently, the Diabetes Research Institute at the University of Miami has been experimenting on a novel drug. The head of research, Dr. Norma Kenyon, stated that this drug may be a key part to actually being able to accomplish islet cell transplants without the need for long term use of anti-rejection drugs like insulin." He handed Dave a sheet outlining the drug. "It's called Anti-CD154. It protects the insulin-producing cells, the islet cells, from rejection. Dr. Kenyon made it clear that it was too early to call it a cure drug, but a handful of the patients who used it have successfully been able to stay off insulin for quite some time."
Scanning the paper in his hand, Dave frowned. He hadn't heard of this new breakthrough. "Uh… what are the, uh, consequences?"
Pushing his glasses on top of his head, Dr. Sutton leaned forward and folded his hands together. "There aren't any real consequences, per se. There are some doctors, admitting, who are against the drug; they don't want patients trading insulin for a toxic medicine. The only corollary is this: throughout the 300 plus islet cell transplants that have been made in the last decade, only a few patients have been able to stay off insulin for a significant amount of time, as I said before."
Letting the information sink in, Dave ran a hand through his hair uneasily. Dr. Sutton noted his concern. " You can take a chance with this new drug and possibly be free of constant insulin shots, or you can take the latter option. Whichever you decide is fine. If you choose the Anti-CD154, be sure to bring your insulin supply on your next visit."
Releasing a held–in breath, Dave stood and extended his hand, which Dr. Sutton took. "I'll be sure to consider it."
* ~ *
Nearing 1:00, Joe sighed in boredom. A perfectly good Saturday was lost to the dreary weather, and the rest of his housemates were too lethargic to do anything at all. He considered rewiring Jimmy's cabin for optimum lighting or maybe rigging up an intercom system, but again, the outside conditions brought him down from his normalcy. Not once that day did he even think about the aliens that were most likely seeking him at that very moment.
Breaking his concentration of absolutely nothing, the doorbell rang, echoing throughout the mansion-like cabin. Listening for any footsteps, though none came, Joe reluctantly got up, mumbling at how lazy everyone was. Dragging his feet to the door, he glimpsed out the peephole, his demeanor escalating at the sight of a soaked, though still appealing, woman outside. Throwing the door open, he ushered her inside without a word in exchange, apologizing for nature's onslaught.
"Oh, it's alright, really," the woman answered, wringing out her hair. Noticing the puddle she was making, she blushed.
"Hold on, I'll get you a towel," Joe offered, running off to the downstairs linen pantry and returning with the item in mind. Thanking him, the woman peeled off her jacket and wrapped the towel around her shoulders, embarrassingly wiping the mascara that smeared her cheeks.
"I wasn't expecting rain today…" she mused out loud, gazing about the lodge. "This place is amazing…"
"Yeah, it's huge," Joe returned, his eyes glued to her. It was taking all that he had inside to keep from dropping any crude pickup lines he was so attuned to. The women of New Hampshire were laid back, in comparison to New York, and his past attempts with them had been disastrous. His ideas of pickup lines were there idea of blasphemy. "Pardon me, but, uh, what did you say your name was?"
The woman smiled, extending a hand in greeting. "I didn't. It's Kristina. I'm looking for a Jimmy James or a Dave Nelson."
Thanking the heavens, Joe grinned. "They both reside here, ma'am, but they are out at the moment. My name is Joe, and I'd be happy to keep you company until they get back."
Before she could reply, Lisa's voice butted in. "Kristina? What are you doing down here, all the way from New York?"
"New York!?" Joe exclaimed despite himself. Kristina nodded.
"I work with the WNYX station." She turned to Lisa, who was coming down the stairs to join them. "Before you left, Mr. James stopped by the office. He thought it would be a good idea for Mr. Nelson's secretary to come down for business purposes and the like." She blushed. "I'm afraid of heights, so I drove down instead of taking him up on his helicopter offer."
Hiding her disappointment, Lisa smiled. Jimmy knew Kristina had a crush, and this was his way of matchmaking. "Well, of course you're welcome as long as you like—"
"Kristina, glad you could make it little lady." Jimmy's voice boomed from the doorway. Entering the discussion, Jimmy put a hand on her shoulder. "You had an okay trip down, I hope?"
"Yes sir, Mr. James," she answered. The intimidation she felt for the man began melting away, and she could see why Dave had spoken so highly of the man.
As if reading her thoughts, Dave appeared in the doorway. "Kristina?"
Her heart jumping in her throat, she tried to hold down her stuttering. "Oh, h-hi Mr. Nelson. I, uh… I—"
"Mr. James told me in the car," he interjected, knowing how nervous she got when she had to explain her way through things. "And I thought I could get away with a vacation."
Giggling, Kristina's cheeks reddened again; she cursed the habit she was born with. "Who better to keep Matthew in line? He's been up here for so long…"
At the mention of his name, yet another house-member flounced down the stairs, spotting Kristina instantaneously. "When'd you get here?"
Jumping, Kristina faced the voice. "Just now. You haven't been causing too much trouble, have you?"
Sheepishly, Matthew shrugged, causing another laugh from Kristina. The sweetness was at a level that would make Lisa puke, but she couldn't help but like the shy girl. Whoever could quiet Matthew deserved some credit in her book.
* ~ *
It was a slow day in the restaurant, and Nancy was grateful for it. When she first took up the job, she was more than appreciative, working as hard as she could to please her employer. She felt indebted to him for offering her the job when he didn't need any more hired help; he had faltered at the story she told of the man she loved being in a coma, and her coming down to the state that had divided them to be by his side. It had worked, but when her belief in her own story began to wane, it grew more arduous to commit herself to the job. Of course, Dave taking his leave of New York didn't help either.
The day he was released, Dave had found her in the waiting room along with all the others who had been companying him. When he had finished a brief chat with each one, he had walked over and hugged her. No words were exchanged between them, and Nancy could feel her heartstrings being snipped, one by one. All together, they waited for Jimmy James' helicopter to arrive and set down on the hospital roof's landing pad. Then, as she watched them take off, she had felt the need to bawl. But like the day so long ago when he made it clear to her that they had broken up, she kept her composure. So she waved, and she smiled, and she laughed. What more was there for her to do?
Nancy hated the weakness she felt. For so long, when she had been the only one at his bedside, she kept picturing the movie While You Were Sleeping, waiting for Dave to wake up so they could rekindle their relationship. And when he did wake, she was sure at any moment, he would take her in his arms and tell her he loved her. And he did take her into his arms… and she felt nothing. Well, she couldn't say 'nothing.' She felt a friend, one who had been in need. The love she had thought was undying and devoted had been that of a close companion's. And she was happy. Now realizing for the first time, she felt relieved. She felt free, though regretfully.
Flipping the 'open' sign so it read 'closed,' Nancy untied her apron and headed to the faculty room in the back. Inside was her boss, putting the last of the day's earnings in the safe.
"Could I get my two week's check?" Nancy asked, tossing her apron into the dirty linen hamper. Grunting in response, the manager handed her an envelope with her name on it. Thanking him, she picked up a pen and, skimming the working schedule, began crossing her own name off the pages.
"What are you doing?" the manager asked, gaping at her. Nancy smiled and tossed him the pen.
"I'm going home."
* ~ *
Author's Note: Be kind… ~_~
