Session One

So Mom and Dad dropped me off at Shady Pines this past Sunday for my first session.  Mom insisted on walking me in even though I told her I can walk by myself.  I’m fourteen!  “Exactly, you’re only fourteen!”  If this were medieval times, I would’ve already been married with five kids and working in the fields!  But I didn’t say that.

So we went inside.

The whole place was painted in peach and smelled like musty Pine Sol.  It made me feel depressed. I hope I never end up there.

The lady at the front desk was named Dee.  She looked bored with life.  Without looking up she slid a visitor’s badge across the desk that read “Evan Montgomery: Student Volunteer.”  I started to tell her my name is Ethan, but I got a look from Mom.  Right.  Smile and say thank you, ma’am.

Christa came around the corner wearing scrubs that matched the ugly peach walls.  Mom always gets so excited to see her working.  Montgomery children make names for themselves.  Christa was born to be a nurse.  Just like Jay was born for accounting.

Mom gave me another look before leaving and Christa handed me a book (The Great Gatsby, my summer reading last year) and told me to follow her.  Every Sunday is Family Day, so in the main building were tons of people and kids visiting their grandparents and everyone was happy and laughing.  But we weren’t going to that place.

They don’t want the people that have no family to feel bad, so they come up with other activities for them.  That’s what I’m for.

Christa led me to a door and told me that the man I’ve been assigned is named Mr. Henricksen. Her voice got quiet and she looked sad when she told me about him.

Mr. Henricksen is a mute invalid.  He’s mostly paralyzed and can’t talk.  The only way they’ve been able to communicate with him is through text messaging.  Christa felt sorry that he couldn’t speak, so being the good one, she sold her tv and bought him an ipad.  She talks, he texts.

And I guess now it’s my turn.

The room was small and (thank God) painted white.  There was only a chair, a bureau, and a hospital bed.  Mr. Henricksen laid there, an ipad propped up on a stand on his leg.  You could see the veins in his hands and in his face.  The guy had to be in his 80s.

He didn’t look up when me and Christa walked in, just stared at the wall.  Christa fluffed his pillows and asked him how he was doing and introduced me.

“This is Ethan, my little brother.  He’s going to be your Sunday reading buddy.”  I feel stupid because I was kind of nervous and knew I would stumble over my words when reading, so I just smiled and said “Good morning, sir.”

            Mr. Henricksen watched me as Christa put my phone number in his ipad so he could talk to me.  His eyes were really blue.  I kept my head down.

When she was done Christa patted my shoulder and said “make me proud, bud” before leaving us alone.  I cleared my throat and said “Sooo we’re gonna read The Great Gatsby, I guess.  All right, Mr. Henricksen?”  He just looked at me.

Oh.  Right.  He’s mute.  I’m an idiot.

To avoid sounding like a complete douchebag I buried my face in the book and began to read.  I didn’t really look up the whole time and just concentrated on the words, and Mr. Henricksen didn’t try to communicate at all.  It was the longest hour of my life.

Finally Christa came back in and said it was time to go home.  I said goodbye to Mr. Henricksen and that I’d see him next week and I left.

Seems like an easy enough project, I guess.  I feel bad for Mr. Henricksen, though.  I can’t imagine not being able to walk or talk or anything.  I guess we’ll see what happens tomorrow.