This is Now

chapter two

Weeks pass, and I still have yet to utter a single word. It isn't that I don't want to; I can't. Whenever I open my mouth to speak, the words just...stop. My brain gets fuzzy and I literally don't even remember what words are. However, since no one understands what's going on with me, my parents think it would be a wonderful idea to send me to a speech therapist at the hospital. I now go to Mrs. Gonzalez's office every day for thirty minutes and she asks me questions that I don't respond to, and then she tries to act like she knows how I feel. Which she doesn't.

Today during my daily meeting with Mrs. Gonzalez, we were talking about the reason behind my inability to speak, although it was more like her talking about my inability to speak. 

"Daniella, did communication with others come easily before the accident?" she asks me, although she already knows the answer to the question. We've answered this one about a million times in the past week. I still nodded my head 'yes', because she does have a lot of patients and I understand she probably gets everyone all confused. She smiles and writes something down on her clipboard. I swear she writes everything down. Everything. 

Mrs. Gonzalez asks me a few more questions then sets her clipboard down on her desk. "Today, I've decided we're going to try an activity. It can be very difficult and stressful for people with speech problems, but we're just going to try it out today and see where it goes. Sound good?" Mrs. Gonzalez smiles when I nod my head. She smiles a lot.

"How this activity works is that I will name an animal and you will try to recreate the sound the specific animal makes. This activity is more fun in groups, but it's a lot easier to perform in front of no one but me for new speakers," Mrs. Gonzalez says and picks up a stack of index cards. She shuffles them quickly and pulls one off of the top of the deck. "Dog, an easy one!" Mrs. Gonzalez grins and waits patiently me for me to recreate the noise.

I rack my brain to remember what sound a dog makes. I'm almost positive it goes something like "bark", so I concentrate on getting the syllables out of my mouth. It takes a minute of running through my head how to say it before I open my mouth. 

My lips move, but nothing comes out.

"Keep trying, Danni," Mrs. Gonzalez encourages. I keep trying, but no matter how hard I concentrate, I can't say it. My mouth opens, but my throat refuses to make a sound and my lips don't remember how to move correctly. It's as if my brain forgets how to talk.

"That's okay, Danni. The blunt trauma to your head has probably caused your brain to 'forget' how to speak. This happens with a lot of head trauma and coma patients. But don't worry, ninety percent of the time people get full control of their words back," Mrs. Gonzales informs me with a smile as if it's supposed to make me feel better.

Mrs. Gonzales realizes the game is going nowhere so she just sits and talks to me about random things for the rest of my appointment. When it's my time to leave, I wheel myself to the door to go to the nurse who's usually there waiting for me. Instead, I run smack dab into another guy in a wheelchair, texting and not looking where he was going.

"I'm so sorry!" He immediately says once he realizes he had run right into me, "I wasn't watching where I was going, it's my fault. Are you okay?"

I nod nervously. I had to admit, the guy is cute. His caramel colored hair swept up in messy curls that suited him just right. His light brown eyes are filled with concern, and his jawline could cut someone.

"Hi, I'm Ethan. My mom is Mrs. Gonzalez." The boy, Ethan, nodded towards the room I had just left and sticks out his right hand. "You are?"

Danni. My name is Danni. I know my name is Danni. I open my mouth to tell him so, but I can't say it. My throat refuses to make a sound. 

Ethan sees my struggle and pulls a notepad out from a bag on his wheelchair. He hands it to me, along with a pen.

"Here, you can write it down," he says, a kind smile on his tanned face. I take the notepad and pen and write Danni. My hand is shaking, but the letters are at least legible. 

"Danni?" He reads, and I nod. "What's it short for?"

I write Daniella, and his smile widens. "Daniella. Do a lot of people call you that?" He tilts his head as he asks the question, his boyish curls shifting to the middle of his face. I want to reach out and move them back into place, but that would be weird. Instead, I shake my head. 

"I think I'll call you Daniella, then. It's very nice to meet you." Ethan sticks out his hand, and I cautiously shake it and offer my best smile. His hand is warm against my cold, smooth one. "So I'll see you around, Daniella?" He asks, hand still clutching mine. I nod, and he offers me an adorable wink before finally letting go of my hand and moving towards his mom's office.

I start to wheel away when I realize I have no idea where I'm going. Usually, a nurse comes and pushes me back to my room, but no one is there to take me, so I awkwardly sit in the middle of the hallway trying to recall which way I had come from.

"Do you know where you're going?" a voice says behind me. I turn around and Ethan is wheeling himself towards me. I shake my head, indicating that I had no idea where I should go. "I can help you, I know this hospital like the back of my hand. What's your room number?"

I try to think of it, but I realize I don't even know. No one ever tells me what it is, and I never bother to look. I shrug, and Ethan rolls up next to me. 

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to find it ourselves. C'mon!" Ethan takes off down the hallway, rolling so fast I could never be able to keep up with him. He waits at the end of the hallway for me to get next to him again. "You haven't been doing this long, have you?" Ethan gestures to the wheelchair and I shake my head.

Ethan nods and turns down the hallway. "Yeah, I've been in a wheelchair for about three years now. You get used to it pretty quickly, trust me," he says and flashes me a quick smile.

I follow him through various floors of the hospital and listen to him ramble about random things, nodding and smiling occasionally, before finally arriving at a floor that looks familiar. I point towards a room that looks like my own, and Ethan beams. 

"I told you I know this hospital like the back of my hand!" Ethan winks at me with a crooked smile on his face. "Hey, you know once a week I lead a support group for paralyzed teens. It's on Wednesday's at one P.M. in meeting room 108. You should come next week!"

I think for a minute, why would I go to his support group? I barely know him. But then I realize he's just being nice, so I nod and agree to come. 

"Awesome! See you then," Ethan says. He flashes me another smile and leaves but then turns back around. "Oh, and since you're pretty unfamiliar with the hospital still, would you want me to come get you and I can show you where the meeting is next week?"

I nod and force a smile on my face. Sure, the guy is nice but he's just too nice. However, I feel like I have to be nice back, so I hesitantly agree. 

"Great! I'll come get you at 12:30. See ya!" Ethan finally leaves, and I exhale in relief.

Finally, some peace and quiet. That boy can talk your ear off.