Isabelle

The meeting

Sam

I wake up to the sound of my breathing that has for the past six years, become loud and similar to the sound of a machine.

The nurse comes in and opens the curtains abruptly. She doesn't bother saying hello to me. No one does anymore. They think I'm a vegetable.

Doctors used to pass by with their interns. They didn't talk to me either. Instead, they talked about me.

It took a whole lot of moral strength not to succumb to madness. All I can do is think, see and hear. So I use these assets to create my own world. My hearing skills developed to an incredible level. I hear conversations I shouldn't be listening to, such as those between my doctor and his nurses.

Last year, I heard my wife announcing to the doctor that she was no longer my wife. I tried to convince myself that it was just a fragment of my imagination. But after that day, I did not have anymore visits. From anybody.

***

Isabelle

"So this is mister Bard's basic information" says the doctor. "He is forty nine years old, and suffers from the locked-in syndrome, which consists of full paralysis. He cannot speak...

- But can see, hear and think perfectly." I continue.

"I've done my homework." I say with a forced smile.

"Okay then. You are to spend two hours with him every Monday? That's the plan?" Asks the doctor confused.

- Yes.

- And you're doing that for school?

- Yes. If I want to graduate, I need to complete a certain amount of community service hours." I say rocking on my feet.

"I see. Alright, well, enjoy!" He says patting my shoulder and leaves.

I can't tell if he's sarcastic or not.

I push the door that says Room 118 and enter.

He's very big...as in tall. His body fits the entire hospital bed and his shoulders are very broad. His breathing is loud and rhythmic.

I nervously walk closer to him with a shy smile. He has a full set of hair, most of it is grey. The rest of it is light shade of chestnut.

His face is tired and weary but I am still able to distinguish handsome features.

His eyes are open and he is looking straight at me.

My heart melts as I try my best not to show any sign of pity.

***

Sam

She feels pity for me. Who is she anyway? And who gave her permission to just walk in my room like this?

She slowly walks towards me and leans in. Her straight and shiny dark brown hair falls forward. She has dark almond eyes, thin eyebrows and subtle freckles on her nose.

She's beautiful...she's young.

"Hello mister Bard. My name is Isabelle Grant, but you can call me Isy. I go to school at Peterson's, and part of my community service consists of spending time with you."

No. No. I am not a charity case. Go away. Leave. Now.

"May I call you Sam?"

No! It's Mister Bard.

"Great, Sam" she says with a shy smile.

Jesus. What can possibly be worse than having locked-in syndrome? Having locked-in syndrome and having to bear and insolent teen age girl.