𝐌𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐳. Even being born right next to the cruel and sick crime life never changed the charismatic and positive Mia who wanted to help change the messy world she formed part off.
Becoming a nurse at the age of 25 and joining her d...
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Getting inside the house I leave my jacket and the bag with the food behind and put my hair up in a bun before going to his room.
"Hey! I'm back, I brought you some stuff." I knock on the door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, come in," Carlos replies right away.
"Okay, I had an idea, that's what this is for but before I tell you you need to promise me you will listen with an open mind." I smile, searching around my bag for the weed, and walk toward his desk.
He follows me in his wheelchair, it's actually the first time I see him rolling around by himself. Recovery seems to be going well.
"You seem excited I don't know what to expect." He sounds a little worried but also amused.
"It's good believe me." I take the weed out and plant it over the desk.
He looks down and stares at it, no words coming out from him. As the silence continues I start to think that maybe this was a bad idea and when I'm about to explain myself and apologize he does something I would have never seen coming.
He laughs.
If I thought his smile already held power, his laugh holds double the amount. He has this kind of contagious laugh, one that could bring your mood up in a second if you were feeling down. Somewhat deep but not losing its wholesomeness. And I can't lie, it does something to me.
"What?" I ask, smiling as I stare down at him.
I don't even know what to say, my brain isn't working it just keeps replying his laugh over and over again.
"Weed? You got me weed?" He can barely say the words without breaking down into laughter once again. "You sure are an interesting nurse, I didn't see this one coming."
Well at least he is not mad, I can work with this.
"Before you go and make conclusions let me explain." I open the little plastic bag filled with weed and a joint and take it out. "Tobacco mixed with marijuana, you said you wouldn't take opiates for the pain, well these aren't opiates." I hand him the joint.
"Wait, you are actually serious?" He looks down at the joint and then at me.
Why would I have weed if I wasn't serious? Of course, I am.
"Yes, I'm serious, it will help with your pain and yes weed can be addictive but not even remotely close to morphine. If you smoke it from time to time it should be fine." I explain. "So if you agree, I will get you some more and weed will become your new pain management drug."
He listens to me patiently, so calm that by the way he is looking at me I can't tell if he is on board or he is about to fire me.
"You really think I could manage it? I have smoked before but it's been years and it was for pure pleasure, this is not the same." Now he sounds serious which means he is actually thinking about it.
