Freefall

Ninth Chapter

"Nope," I returned with just as much good nature.

As the session continued, I listened carefully to each of the questions that Elliott asked, and I answered them carefully as well. I couldn't get what Malcolm had said out of my mind, and I told myself that I was only being cautious.

Not that I actually believed anything that Malcolm had told me.

Eventually, Elliott stood up to go, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had looked forward to his visits before, but now all I could think about was what motives he might have for asking each of his questions. When the door shut him out, I was glad.

By the time dinner came around, I had killed my brain with modern television and was nervously waiting to see if Malcolm would be the one to come bearing dinner. Thankfully, when the door did open, Patricia walked in with my food. She had been the nurse that had cared for me before Malcolm showed up.

Even though he wasn't the one to bring my food, I still couldn't eat the pudding first.

The night passed by flipping through channels and magazines. By the time the sun was peeking through my blinds, I felt as if my brain was wading through water. I had never realized how wonderful sleep was.

When I finally woke, lunch was waiting within reach, but no one was in sight. I wondered if now that Malcolm had had his fun, he wouldn't show up again. Part of me hoped it was true, but another part didn't.

I had barely finished the chicken salad sandwich when Patricia entered my room pushing a wheelchair. "Today," she said with a large smile, "you get to go for a ride."

I had forget what Elliott had said before about a wheelchair, but I was glad at the prospect. I hadn't left my hospital room in nearly two weeks, and my body was sore from sitting in the bed 24/7. The wheelchair looked comfortable enough, and it had two extensions for my legs to rest on. It would be a challenge to get me into it, though.

Twenty awkward minutes later, I was seated in the wheelchair with a blanket spread over me like I was some old granny. It did keep me nice and warm, though.

"Here we go," Patricia said as she propped open my door and took the brake off of the wheelchair. Her cheer was half contagious, half obnoxious, but I focused on the contagious part.

The hallway was quiet. Various other patients were taking walks or getting pushed around by a nurse like I was. It was a calm early afternoon, and I settled back comfortably. It would be a nice way to break up the monotony of hospital life. The doctors still wouldn't give me a definite day that I could leave.

We turned down another still, quiet hallway only for the silence to be broken by a loud shout. "Meg! Meg!"

Patricia glanced around, pulling me to a stop. I craned around her rotund middle to see if the voice was coming from whom I thought it was. A man was hurrying after us, waving something in his hand.

"Malcolm," Patricia said, turning around and leaving me to crane my neck as I watched. "I thought today was your day off."

"It was, but I decided to work anyway. I'll just take over here if you don't mind. Thanks." He sidled passed her and took hold of the wheelchair.

Without leaving any time for protest, Malcolm started down the hall hurriedly. A corner of the folder that he was holding poked my neck, but he didn't seem to notice. Apparently, he wanted to win the Kentucky Derby with a wheelchair.

"Um. What's in the folder?" I asked, shifting away from the discomfort.

"Right. The folder." Malcolm slowed down a little bit and abruptly turned down a different hall.