“Oh… yes…” She still had a sleepy tone in her voice.
Debbie handed Gini her mug with juice. Robert took the book off the table and read:
“Why would you want to be a cat?
To climb a tree and play in the breeze.
So what do you think of that?
But be careful and don’t sneeze.
Gini, age 7.”
It appeared her mother or an older person had written Gini’s age next to her name.
“That’s very cute, Gini. I guess you like poetry.”
Gini smiled at him. “Oh… yes…
“Rob… ber. Be… Uff… writ.”
When Robert left, he asked Debbie if he could take the notebook home with him to read the poems.
Robert called every day to check on Gini if he couldn’t come by. He mostly talked to Debbie since Gini always wanted to sign when on the phone. Debbie told him that on another visit to the back of the house, Gini had discovered her computer on the desk in the library. At first, she ran her fingers over the keyboard over and over. Then, with gentle touches of her forefingers, she tapped on the keys. Debbie turned on the computer and opened a blank word document. There was just row after row of letters, some numbers, and punctuation symbols as Gini continued to tap. Debbie moved the desk chair from across the room so Gini could sit.
After a few minutes, Gini thrust. Then she typed:
Dear Cat herin e.
It took a lot of thinking and a minute or so to type the letters. And then more strings of letters and numbers. Debbie was intrigued so let her keep going. Among the letters were a few other words:
Tttttttttjjjtjjjtjjtjjtjtjjj I am di sssab led. ……………….njjdlidiidjfhsh. I knooooow to be disabled. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaekjkdja;oijhheowhfhn hwoiehfnngoa.
Gini sat back in the chair and put her hands in her lap.
“When I asked her about Catherine, she just nodded her head,” Debbie told Robert. “I don’t know who Catherine is.”
“She was Gini’s boss. I talked to her after the accident about Gini’s insurance. They were lobbying for health care for disabled children. Interesting Gini claimed to be disabled.”
“I’m going to look through Gini’s contacts and see if I can find Catherine’s info. I think she might be happy to see this.”
“I have her business card if you can’t find it.”
Debbie wrote an email:
Dear Catherine,
I am Debbie Pierce, Gini’s nurse. Dr. Young told me she worked for you.
The other day Gini was exploring the computer keyboard. I don’t know if you’re aware of her condition, but she doesn’t see well and has little use of her hands. I thought it interesting what she typed. I am attaching the document.
If you would like to correspond with Gini, I think she would like that.
Gini has made a miraculous recovery and is living in her condo with me. She is having a good life.
Sincerely,
Debbie Pierce, RN
The visits from the two men continued on a weekly basis. Debbie couldn’t help but observe the different body language Gini had with them. Robert, being easygoing and relaxed, mostly let Gini have the reins. He was always watching for changes and new skills from her. In turn, she was very relaxed around him. The more time passed, the closer she sat to him. She seemed to enjoy it when he kissed her, although Debbie knew Gini didn’t know what a kiss meant. She assumed Gini felt Robert was her protector, as was Debbie.
Ric was always tense, to the point of over-trying, so different than when Gini was in the hospital. Debbie guessed since he had failed at taking her to Rockport, he was afraid of more failure. She just wanted to tell him to relax. Since he was tense, Gini didn’t seem comfortable either, as if she wanted to make sure all was going well to help Ric be happy. And she never sat close to him. She sat a few inches away, with her back straight. He kissed her some on the lips, but mostly on her forehead.
Debbie tried hard not to take sides.
Robert showed up late for his night. It was obvious he was tired. Gini was full of energy and smiles, which lit up his day. She sat sideways with one knee up on the couch so she faced him. He was comfortably leaning back in the corner of the couch with one arm on the back and the other on the arm, looking at her.
She sat silent, only thrusting her tongue. Then she slowly raised her left hand and managed to bend all but her index finger. “Wan… feenger. Uff… way… wan… mean… net.”
A smile grew on his face.
Then with more concentration, she got another finger up. “Two… feenger. Two… pee… pole… rob… ber… guiney.
“Free… feenger. Uff… free… bur… seeng. Four… feenger.” She stopped and thrust again. She had no description for four.
She put her hand in her lap.
He took hold of her thumb. “And how about this one?”
“No… be… uff… feenger. Be… uff… fum.”
Robert slowly leaned forward, cupping the back of her head in his hand, and kissed her on the lips. She puckered and kissed him back. This wasn’t the first time she had kissed him; the puckers had been getting more sensual over the last couple of weeks.
“Guiney, you always amaze me, always.” The name just slipped out of his mouth without any thought. Gini had called herself Guiney for some time. It was a sweet name for a sweet woman.
It seemed each time they were together, Gini had learned something new: setting the table, maneuvering through the condo with ease, and now counting, not only saying the words but obviously understanding the numbers by showing the right number of fingers. He enjoyed her accomplishments and the joy she showed when she figured out something new. It
