Bad boy in a wheelchair

Chapter 4 (edited)

Breathe in
Breathe out

Okay. Here I go.

Okay maybe one more pep talk.

Come on Aaliyah, it's just one client. It's no different than taking care of a 9 year old or a 90 year old. A client is a client, this is your job gosh darn it! You could do it, just put the key in and open the door you're already 5 minutes late!

The being late part is what hurried me to rip the bandaid and open the front door to the guest house.

I had arrived ten minutes early but I sat in my car for five minutes. It took me five minutes to walk from the garage to where I am now and, for the other five minutes I've been trying to gather up the courage to go inside.

Making me late.

Quickly getting in and setting my stuff on the kitchen counter, I started getting the morning medication ready.

Multi vitamin (for vitamins), Sertraline (for PTSD), and Fibromyalgia (for muscle pain).

Checking them off on the chart one by one I put the three tiny pills in the little dish as Chloe had shown me.

I put the bottles back in the cupboard and grabbed one of the pre-made breakfast smoothies that have been bottled up.

Making my way down the hall I kept replaying step by step what Chloe had told me.
1. Don't knock and don't turn on the lights.
2. Quietly walk in and set the dish and the bottle on his night stand, collecting last nights dishes on the way.
3. Open the blinds from only the window in the farthest corner.
4. Leave with out a sound.

Slowly opening the door I peaked in but all I can see is pure darkness. I was barely able to make out the bed so I used that as my guide. I held my breath as I tiptoed closer and closer.

Setting the small white bowl and the glass bottle down I tried not to make any clinking sound. I checked to see if I had woken him up but all I could see was a mass of hair. I took that as a sign of success and grabbed the empty bottle and the bowl similar to the one I had just set down, except this one was grey.

I then turned to look for the window. Now that my eyes had adjusted I can see that his room had the exact same layout as mine, with an added door for the bathroom.

Looking back down at him one last time I finally took a small step away from the bed.

"Don't even think about it."

I was startled by the deep voice that was laced with sleep.

"Um, don't think about what?" I asked frozen in place not daring to move.

"Opening the curtain." I slowly looked down to see if he was looking at me but, he hasn't even shifted an inch.

"But your mother said to op..."

"Chloe doesn't know shit." He interrupted.

"Uh." I was appalled by the fact that he would speak of his mom in that manner.

"Just get the fuck out of my room." He groaned as he moved the pillow to cover his head.

With out a word I exited the room and closed the door behind me.

Well that went well.

I walked over to the sink and rinsed out the dishes. After putting them in the dish washer I decided to read over his chart again.

There was hardly any useful information about him in here. Just summary's of his past appointments, prescription receipts, allergies, and emergency protocols.

There was nothing to help me figure him out.

In the nursing home where I did my clinicals their charts made me feel like I knew them before I even met them. It had their behaviors, likes and dislikes, how to deal with their mood swings, how to calm them down, what to do if they refused care, and how to get them motivated to do things.

When I walked into their room I felt confident that I would be able to handle any obstacle they threw at me. Now if I walk into his room I would have no idea what to expect.

Pushing the folder away I grabbed my bag and pulled out a brand new spiral notebook and a pen. I knew this would come in handy.

From now on I would not go off of Chloe's word. She told me he liked the curtain opened but he just completely contradicted her. I'll have to figure everything on my own from now on.

Turning to the first page I wrote a small note to not open the curtain. After that I put the notebook away and looked around.

There was nothing to do now.

The next round of meds won't be until noon. It's only 7am. Chloe said that "in between time" should be used for the rest of my chores. That means dishes, laundry, sweeping, mopping, and dusting.

The dishes are done, the floors are spotless, in fact the whole house seems spotless. Checking the hamper I found it was empty.

So I guess there really is nothing to do but wait. Now I understand why Chloe found it necessary for me to have a room. I should probably go leave my stuff up there.

Half way up the stairs I heard a bang coming from James' room.

Quickly running into his room I looked around for any signs of danger or anything broken. "What happened?" I asked finally turning to face the boy sitting up on his bed.

My breath hitched in my throat when I finally put a face to the sleepy lump of blankets. My eyes scanned him, from his jet black hair, to his unclothed chest littered with black ink ending at the book in his hands then going back up to his forest green eyes.

He looked exactly like the last time I saw him. Almost as if it hasn't been 2 years.

"Rosati?"