Back to Health: Slow Recovery

Lesson 2: Stand in Line For Coffee

"So we're not going to Kohl's?" Lynnette asked as she sat next to disguised Michael in the backseat and Michael turned his head around, pulling his face away from his cloak to look at her with those disgusted, chewing eyes that scoffed with disbelief to how she could even ask such a thing.

"I'm not spending my money on you...at Kohl's? We're going somewhere nice. I know a good place at the mall that we can go, plus it's very private. I can sneak in and out."
He looked to Vince, who sat in the driver's seat and confirmed that's where they were headed. Lynnette buckled in, and together, they all rode on the highway.

Michael began his usual by searching on the dashboard radio for something to listen to. But, here's the thing. Michael didn't listen to music on the radio, to enjoy music on the radio. He listened to one song long enough to tell whoever was listening if that song had already been written before. His memory and hearing were inept. He stayed on one station, a pop/r&b channel, and instantly, he began his rant,
"Oh my god."

"What is it?" Lynne asked beside him as she watched him dive his ear in and out of the front speaker, widening those brown eyes to the sounds of the track. He bopped his head to the rhythm and brought his hand in the air, pointing his finger in time, and he said passionately,
"This is an old Stevie Wonder song. Listen, listen to the foundation of the track. They stole it!"

He beat boxed in time with the track, tapping his finger on the leather seat, and she looked to the dashboard to see who was singing,
"Michael, this says Frank Ocean. He does kinda sound like Stevie."

"No, no. Vince- Vince, you're old enough to remember Stevie Wonder, right? Listen to this song."

Vince was a few years older than Lynnette but still years younger than Michael. He was trusted amongst the estate and had known Michael for several years ever since his family had moved in from Long Island in New York.

He tapped Vince's shoulder in time to the beat as they drove along, and Michael began to open his YouTube app on his iPhone. He searched for the song while Lynnette tried in her head to think of all the Stevie Wonder songs she even knew. She watched as Michael brought his phone to her ear, and she listened as the rhythms from both speakers became in-sync. She looked to Michael with her eyes widening, and she said excitedly,
"It's the same song. How is that legal?"

"It's called sampling. A rapper did it to one of my songs last year. They get away with it all the time. If it makes good music, I don't really mind."

Michael explained how to build a track from the ground up, and Lynnette listened. He could tell stories or explain topics for hours. Even when she didn't completely understand, it was nice to know that he was comfortable and confident enough to ramble. So, she let him.

At night, after his nighttime meds, she'd sit on the bed beside him and let him talk himself into a sleepy daze. She'd never lay in the bed beside him, but she'd sit close enough to hear his verbal wandering come to a slow stop as his drowsiness set in. Slowly, he'd close his eyes and reach for her hand. Once resting, she lingered to watch as he slept so peaceful. She rested her head against the pillow now that he couldn't see her and wished his mind would be this unbothered always. Even when he was laughing from his gut, howling in joy to the crudest of jokes that seemed menial to anyone else, there was so much sadness behind his eyes.

Her daydreaming was halted by Vince bringing the car to a stop as they parked in the back parking lot of the mall. It was the staff lot, and Vince turned telling them both that he'd alert the employees that Michael was present and the second floor needed to be as clear as possible. Lynnette nodded, and the car became quiet. Lynnette turned with a thought skimming across her mind,
"What would you do - just on a normal day if you woke up and you didn't have to do this to go outside?"