Skips A Beat ::Wattys2016::

Chapter 22

The music therapist, Julia, came back. Right now, she's working with Michael's hands. He hasn't been able to grab things in a while. He struggles to hold mugs, and hands. Things like that.

"Michael, we're gunna play a game. All you have to do to win, is pick up the maraca." Julia says to him. She sets it beside Michael's hand. "Whenever you're ready, go ahead and try to grab it."

I watch as Michael figures out how to open his fingers again. His middle finger stays closed. I can see his face scrunch in frustration. I guess he has no patience at all. His hand trembles as he desperately tries to open it. Julia lets him try to figure it out by himself before stepping in. She takes his hand, opening and closing it for him. She does each finger individually, and then makes him try again. He gets his hand open, but can't actually get a grip on the maraca.

He squeals in anger. It's amazingly high pitched, and sounds like a toddler's temper tantrum. He hasn't actually been able to form any words, so he stopped trying. In a weird, deranged way, it's adorable. But in the same sense, it's really not.

"Michael, there's no need to be angry." She says. "Take it easy. It may take a while." Michael humphs in annoyance, making me giggle. He's still sassy, I'll give him that.

Half an hour later, he finally wraps his fingers around the maraca. I smile, thrilled that he did it. He makes his little happy squeal. I kiss his forehead.

"Good job, kitten."

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The nurse brings in his "dinner" tray, just like she has everyday for past week. She goes to feed him (it's only applesauce since he can't really chew his food anymore), but he groans, turning his head from her.

"I can do it." I offer. She nods, handing me the spoon and standing up. I take her place beside him.

"Let me know if you need any help." She leaves with a sad smile. I look down at the stupid little applesauce container.

"Look, Mikey, more shitty applesauce." I joke, smiling at him. He returns it, or at least tries to. I take a small scoop of the icky looking snack food, attempting to ignore the fact that it's like feeding my 18 year old boyfriend baby food. I try to feed it to him, but he makes a noise, shaking his head slightly. "Mikey, it's actually not bad, see?" I take a bite, wanting to remind him that's it's only applesauce. I try to feed him again but he squeals in frustration. Tears show up in his green eyes, and the heart rate monitor is showing that his, well, heart rate, is up. "What? Don't want it?" He makes the same frustrated noise. "You don't have to eat it, okay? I won't make you, kitten."

He calms down, closing his eyes. I sigh, running my hands through his hair. I set the food aside, laying beside him. My hand never leaves his hair. I breath in deeply, staring up at the ceiling.

"What are we gonna do, Mikey?" I whisper, assuming that he's asleep. But when I look down, green eyes meet mine.

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Michael cried himself to sleep. I really didn't mean to upset him. I didn't mean what are we gonna do in a bad way. It was just a question meant for myself. The door opens, and Karen comes in. She smiles at me.

She and Daryl went to dinner. They're stressed, and I gave them the idea to try to slow down their panicked thoughts. It's not healthy to worry 24/7. Or at least, that's what Joy said. Joy thinks I should try to do things with my friends, but... I already am. Michael is my best friend, and I enjoy spending time with him. Even when he can't talk, or smile, or is just so damn tired that he sleeps. I don't care. I just like being in the presence of my best friend, who just happens to be the love of my life.