chapter 6

Another Monday

The next few weeks settled into a comfortable pattern. Dr Dayton started seeing me in the mornings, off the clock, and off the record. He gave me someone I could talk to, trust. I ended up telling him about my family life, my brother's death, my three years of celibacy. I never could trust enough to tell him about my fantasies for Ray, or where my hand had been when Ray woke up.

I asked him one day, why he was doing this, donating his time, and he said someone had spoken to him about the choices people make in their lives, especially the choices of omission. Choosing not to make a choice when they see a car broken down on the side of the road, or another person in pain.

Once, I asked him how Ray's counseling and therapy was going, and he told me that was as confidential as how my counseling was going, and that since he didn't speak to Ray about me, he wasn't going to speak to me about Ray. While that was a little frustrating; I didn't get a sneak peak at Ray's world, it was quite a bit reassuring; Dr Dayton wouldn't be talking to Ray about my life and problems.

Ray didn't speak any more of his Fallen-ness. The arm-chair psychologist in me wondered if his sudden exhaustion that last night had been an effect of his brain finally slipping back into place. He visited me on my shift less, and when he did, we talked about his physical therapy, his difficulty getting identification, his prospects of finding a job. He never seemed frustrated by it all, the walls in his way to going back to the world outside the hospital. He trusted things to work themselves out for the greater good, no matter the size of the obstacle.

From what I could see, Ray was doing better every day. He seemed more robust, more regal, and if possible, more attractive. He started pushing himself around in the wheelchair, and then graduated to a walker. It always surprised me to see him standing. With so many years of him lying down and me bending over him, I had gotten the impression that he was shorter than I was. Standing, he looked me straight in the eye.

It was on a Monday that he told me he was leaving. "Physically, I'm almost well. I've got a bus pass to come here for therapy. Dr Dayton has helped me to get some financial aid, and the state would rather put me up in an apartment temporarily instead of a hospital room."

I realized he was saying goodbye. "Is there anything you need?" I asked, trying to find some reason to stay in his life.

He shook his head. "I am provided for." I felt that strange moment of disconnect, and he gave me that almost-smirk grin. "The nurses on five had a furniture and clothing drive."

I swallowed, and held out my hand to him. "Well, it was nice knowing you." He took my hand in both of his and squeezed it gently.

"I don't think that we are done." He said, releasing it again. It wasn't that he sounded sure of it. He smiled. "We'll wait and see."

"We'll see." I agreed, remembering why it might be a good thing he was out of my life forever. "Goodbye, Ray." And I went back to work, and he went off down the hall.