Chapter 10

“Have you been here long?” Prince asked as he approached.

            I was sitting in the chair outside Mary-ann’s room observing her as she sat by the window. She sang a hymn and rested her elbow on the sill, looking out at the park below.

            “About thirty minutes,” I said, closing my notepad and uncrossing my legs. “She’s been sitting there the entire time.”

            Mary-ann was wrapped in a blue hospital blanket and her hair was tied up in the back. Her glasses sat on the end of her nose like a professor.

            “Doing what?” he asked, taking the seat next to me.

            “Nothing. Just looking out the window humming a song.” I flipped my phone open to read a text Ryan sent me over an hour ago. I responded quickly and put my phone back into my pocket.

“You haven’t gone in to see her?” Prince asked, pulling his left leg onto his knee.

“No, I was worried she might not recognize me and have another one of her fits.”  I also

wanted to take advantage of seeing her without anyone around. How she interacted with her environment and how she entertained herself when she was alone.

Prince exhaled, then stood. “I think I should go in,” he said, looking down at me.

I nodded and opened my notepad back up.

Prince approached slowly, his footsteps almost inaudible. “Mom,” he said softly. “It’s me,

Prince.”

Mary-ann turned from the window and looked up at her son. Her eyes widened and her mouth stretched into a lovely smile. The blanket that was draped over her back fell off and landed on the floor. She was wearing a black shirt and a bead necklace that looked like the craft some of the children made the week before.

“Prince,” she said, reaching her arms out toward him.

Prince fell gently to his knees, wrapping his arms around his mother. Mary-ann kissed

him on the cheek and held his chin in her hands.

“It’s good to see you mom,” he said.

“Oh, it’s lovely to see you too sweetheart.” Her hands fell away from his face and she

turned back to the window. “Sing with me would you.”

She began, the words hard to hear from the hallway, but when Prince opened his mouth I was nearly brought to tears. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. That save a wretch, like me. He pulled the other chair next her and sat. I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind, but now I see. I could tell why Mary-ann’s fondest memory was watching her son sing on Broadway. His voice was incredible.

            Mary-ann looked back at Prince and smiled, her cheeks pinched, lips thinned to a straight line. Prince sang, his eyes locked on his mother’s, Mary-ann humming the harmony. ‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved. Mary-ann turned and lay her head on Prince’s shoulder. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.

            Prince laid his arm around his mother and swayed, the tree branches in the park joining their movement.

As he sang the last verse, I walked in and sat quietly in the chair beside the door. When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun. Prince’s voice bounced magically off the walls, his range reaching every note on the scale. We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, than when we’d first begun.

“Thank you, baby,” Mary-ann said, patting Prince on the leg.

“I’m scared mom.”

Mary-ann sat up. She shook her head slowly, wiping the few tears that fell from Prince’s eyes. “You have nothing to fear Prince. God has his hand in yours and he’s leading you to the promise land.” Her smile inched back to her lips.

Though Prince would visit a number of times over the next year, that would be last time Mary-ann would ever call him by name, and one of the last times she would recognize him as her son.

“Who is that man?” Mary-ann asked, pointing at me.

“That’s my friend Sal. Sal Pitello.” Prince looked back and shrugged.

“Is he a nice man?” Mary-ann asked, reaching for the floor.

Prince got her blanket and put it on her lap. “He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met mom.” Mary-ann’s lips opened to a circle, her head bouncing up and down. “He’s been writing a story about you.”

“Isn’t that lovely. Tell him he should--” Mary-ann paused, forgetting what she was going to say and turned back to the window.

It began to rain, the droplets pattering against the window and racing to the bottom.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from the door. We turned to find nurse Proctor standing with hands in her pockets. “I’m here to take Mary-ann to therapy.” She walked in and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Mom, I’m going to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow okay?” Prince said, helping Mary-ann into her wheelchair.

“Alright sweetheart.”

“Nurse,” I said as I stood. “I know that visitors aren’t supposed to be here during a therapy session, but it would help if I could observe. For the story. It would help the reader better understand Mary-ann’s journey through the disease.”

Nurse Proctor shook her head. “I can’t do much about that. Our therapy sessions are normally very private.”

“It will be like I’m not even there,” I said with a smile.

“I’m sorry. There’s paperwork that would need to be filled out by a family member, and you would need the permission of the therapist,” she said, strapping Mary-ann’s legs in and pushing her toward the door.

“I’d be willing to fill out the paperwork,” Prince said.

Nurse Proctor sighed. “Fine, but if doctor Imish says no, I don’t want you trying to fight it.” She pushed Mary-ann into the hallway. “Mr. Pitello, come with me. Mr. Cauldwell, stop in with nurse Benson and ask for the DH151 paperwork.”

“Thank you,” I said as Prince walked by.

            The therapy room was three floors down in a room the size of half a football field. The wall at the far end was lined with mirrors and the floor was hardwood. A small desk sat in the corner next to the door. Chairs were stacked against the near wall. Nurse Proctor rolled Mary-ann in and set her by the desk.

            “Doctor Imish,” she said, her voice echoing through the room.

            A closet door opened and a short man in jeans, a button up shirt and glasses walked out holding a yoga ball. His skin was brown and his beard hung down to the middle of his chest.

            His voice was thick with a middle eastern accent. “Good afternoon my love,” he said, taking Mary-ann’s hands in his and spinning her around in a circle. Mary-ann smiled widely. “And who is this?” he asked, looking at me.

            “Mr. Pitello,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m a friend of the family, but more importantly, I’m writing a story about Mary-ann and the effect this disease is having on her, her family and the community that supports her.”

            “Hmm.” Dr. Imish stroked his beard. “What can I do for you?” he asked, walking to his desk.

            “I told him that therapy sessions are supposed to be private, but he insisted and Mary-ann’s son agreed to fill out the necessary paperwork.” Nurse Proctor stepped to the desk and leaned forward, whispering something in Dr. Imish’s ear.

            “Having access to even one therapy session could help to better understand her progress,” I said, pulling my bag off my shoulder and setting on the ground.

            Doctor Imish thought for a long time, flipping through pages on a clipboard. “Thirty minutes. If you can stay out of my way I will consider allowing you to stay longer and even come back for another session.”

            “Thank you, doctor,” I said, picking up my bag and moving to the stack of chairs. Nurse Proctor smiled and waved before leaving.

            Dr. Imish rolled out a mat and set up metal bars to help with walking. Mary-ann struggled along the mat, grunting with each step. “One more step, that’s it. One more,” doctor Imish encouraged, his hand on her back helping to guide her. They spent ten minutes walking back and forth, and sweat began to drip from Mary-ann’s face.

            “Very good.” Dr. Imish helped her into a beanbag chair. “Do you remember what we do next?” he asked, walking back to his desk.

            Mary-ann took a slow drink from a plastic bottle and shrugged.

            “Recognition,” doctor Imish said, returning with a folder. “Your heart rate is up, so we must see how well your brain is working.” He pulled a stack of photographs from the folder. Some were of Mary-ann and her family, others were of fruits, cars and an assortment of other things found in the world. “Are you ready?” he asked, plopping down on the ground beside her.

            Mary-ann shook her head. She set the bottle down on the floor.

            “What is this?” he asked, holding up a picture of an apple.

            “Fruit,” Mary-ann said with confidence.

            “Good. What kind of fruit?”

            Mary-ann pointed at the picture, her hand gliding along the paper. “A... Apple.”

            Doctor Imish placed the photo to his right and moved quickly to the next. “And this?”

            “Another fruit. Allan loves these with his ice cream. That’s a banana.” Mary-ann reached for her water bottle, knocking it over and spilling it onto the floor. “Oh, good heavens. Look what I’ve done.”

            “That’s quite alright Mary-ann,” Dr. Imish said, hopping to his feet to get paper towels. He cleaned it quickly, then filled her bottle and returned to his seat. “What about his?” he said, holding up a picture of Aaron and his wife.

            Mary-ann snatched it from doctor Imish’s hand and held it close to her face. “I know this man. I know this man. I know.” Mary-ann squeezed the picture in her hands and began to cry. “I know this man.”

            “That’s right, you do. Who is he?” Dr. Imish said, not moving to comfort her. “This is your breakthrough. I don’t want to give you the answer if I don’t have to. You say you know that man, so tell me. Who is he?” Though his actions seemed distant and unemotional, his words were soft and pleasant.

            “I can’t remember his name. I love him. I know I love him. But I can’t remember his name.” Mary-ann struggle to look at the picture, each time breaking down even more.

            “If you want me to help, all you have to do is ask. But only if you think you need it.”

            “I need it. You have to help me. I know this man. I know him.” Mary-ann thrust the picture back at him.

            He took it gracefully, flattening out the creases and set it down on the ground to his left. “He is one of your sons. His name is Aaron.”

            “Yes, yes!” Mary-ann shouted with joy, shaking her fists in the air. “Aaron. My little Aaron and his wife. That’s who it was.”

            “Only three left,” doctor Imish said, holding up the next photograph. “Who is this?”

            “He was a president.” Mary-ann stroked her chin in thought. “Lincoln.”

            “Correct. And this?” Dr. Imish held up a picture of the McDonald’s golden arch.

            “I can’t say I enjoy eating there. It’s far too greasy. McDonald’s,” she said, pointing her finger with certainty.

            “This is the last one before we move on to the next activity, alright?” Dr. Imish said.

            The picture was black and white. It was of Allan and her outside Full Bellies a few months after it opened. Mary-ann was wearing a dressing spotted with flowers, white socks, and shoes with a strap that went over the top of her feet. Allan wore a pair of overalls, the left strap unhooked and hanging down.

            “Oh Allan,” Mary-ann said, taking the picture from Dr. Imish, this time more gently. “He sure loved those overalls.” She hugged the photograph, then spun it around pointed at the sign above their heads. “You know, he helped come up with the name. He came home from work one day and I was all strung up from being down at the church and I asked him what he wanted to eat and you know what he told me?”

            “What did he tell you?” Dr. Imish said, smiling beneath his beard.

            “He told me, ‘I don’t care, just fill my belly,’” Mary-ann giggled. She handed back the photo and exhaled. “That stuck in my head all the way to the next day. I told um...I told.” Her lips quivered again, searching for Sharice’s name. “Sharice. Yes, I told Sharice that if we are going to be feeding people, they ought to leave with their bellies full.”

            “That’s wonderful Mary-ann. You did a great job today.” He placed the photographs back into the folder and walked to his desk.

            Dr. Imish waved me over. “I think that will be all for you today. The next thing I must do involves movement while recognizing small objects. She has struggle in the past with this and I do not wish to put you in harm's way.” He extended his hand.

            “I appreciate you allowing me to sit in on one of your sessions,” I said, shaking his hand.

            “Pleasure. I will allow it again if you want. I can also update you on her progress at the end of each month if you think that will help.”

            “That would be great. Thank you,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

Mary-ann smiled as I waved, her expression enough to say she was unsure of who I was.