All for You.

Chapter Four - You're Alright

Chapter Four - You're Alright

--Cara

Now that Tris is in rehab, I visit her as much as I can.

Before in the regular section of the hospital, they were watching her much more closely, and they limited the amount of people who could visit her. Now that she's in rehab, it's an open door policy.

It's wonderful that she's in rehab. I know lots of the staff that works in that section of the hospital, and they're good at their jobs.

As my night shift ends, I head to the rehab center, planning visit Tris for an hour or so before I head home to relieve Caleb of his fathering duties for he has to work at noon.

I work three twelve hour shifts a week, two of which start and nine at night and end at nine in the morning. The other is a weekend shift, which starts at seven in the morning and ends at seven at night. It either is a Saturday or a Sunday when I take that shift.

I open the door to the rehab center and go to the large room on the left. Tris is always over by the window at the far corner, but I don't see her in there today.

I know the other place she could be. I head down the hall to the room she shares with other people. Knocking on the door I let myself in.

"Hey." I say, smiling. She doesn't look like she feels right today.

"Hi." She smiles back.

"I got nervous when I didn't see you in the large room. Are you feeling alright?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

I notice she is dressed and in shorts, a blanket covering her bare legs.

"My doctor is coming to check on my leg this morning. I don't know what she plans on doing though." She says, laying back with her head on a pillow and looking at me.

Her eyes are identical to my daughter's; Caleb and my reasoning for naming her after Tris.

"I'll have to bring Beatrice to visit you sometime soon. She's almost starting to talk, babbling all the time. She's getting so big; especially since the last time you saw her."

"I'd love to see her." She smiles, still not looking like she feels right.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She sighs, stretching her arms out and then behind her head.

"I don't know." She groans quietly.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know." I rest my hand on her arm.

She's quiet for a second, and I see the thought process written all over her face.

"That's my problem," she says after a few seconds. "I don't know."

"I don't think I understand what you mean."

"Me either."

"What?" I feel my eyebrows crease.

"I get these thoughts. My physical therapist started calling them 'blank memories' because that's basically what they are."