Sara's Story. Chapter Four. A Home That Love Built Story, by Catherine Linda Michel

“Hi Cathy.” She said tenderly, as I woke. “I'm under orders from a doctor, a nurse, and Irene. I'm to see that you ea everything on this tray, and then lay down for a nap, unless a call from ICU comes in, asking for you, so please help me out here? Eat everything, like a good girl, so you can regain some strength?”

Despite the situation, I had to smile at Sandra's pleading. She was one of the very first to come to live at the home and had been simply indispensable since her very first day. Her story, like so many others, had led her to come to me while the Home was still being built. She'd lost everything. Wife, family, job, reputation, even the pension she had been working toward. All she had left was her Social Security check each month. No savings either. Everything had been taken by her ex and her divorce lawyer.

Sandra is a tender, sweet soul, with a huge heart, and she's a fast learner as well. She serves as a bookkeeper/accountant/major domo, and oversees many more projects that are still in the works. I love her dearly, and so do all the rest of the residents of the Home.

I really wasn't very hungry, but I did as she asked. I ate everything on the tray and then, to get her goat a bit, I bit off one of the tines of the plastic fork and pretended to chew it up.

“A bit chewy, and somewhat flavorless, but what can I expect from hospital food, right?” I smirked at her, trying to get her to giggle.

“Cathy! My goodness! You shouldn't try to eat that thing... oh you! She giggled. “Alright you kidder, you! Spit that back out, although I'll admit that the plastic silverware probably has more nutrition value in it than most of what passes for food in a hospital. Well, that, at least, tells me that you're feeling better.”

“Well Sandy, I know that I'm not in really good shape right now, what with all the hubbub with Sara, and things that need done at the Home, so I need to eat and rest some until this is over. After we have Sara with us at the Home, and on the road to recovery, I can slow down and recuperate a bit. I think I will try for some rest until...”

CATHERINE MICHEL! PLEASE REPORT TO ICU THREE. CATHERINE MICHEL! PLEASE REPORT TO ICU THREE! A voice on the public address system said.

Sandra helped me up and accompanied me to the room where I climbed into that damned suit again. I could see Sara was awake, and I wanted to hurry getting that damned thing on, but there's a way to do it right and, if one doesn't, on has to start all over again, wasting valuable time. Finally suited up and disinfected, I went through the airlock doors and then, to Sara's side. I thought she looked tired, and her face was covered with a sheen from perspiration. I smiled at her and took her hand.

“Hi again, sweetheart.” I said. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Hi miss Cathilynn. I'm kinda numb. I can feel some parts of me, but others are just not there, you know?”

Her breathing was harsh and ragged, and I feared tiring her. I'd been told, on the way into ICU, that she had refused a breathing tube since she'd regained consciousness.

“Honey.” I asked. “Don't you think you should have them put in that breathing tube? It sounds like you're having a tough time breathing on your own.”

“I know it would be easier, Miss Cathilynn, but then I couldn't talk to you. Besides, I have enough tubes and wires going into me. One more, especially that one, would leave me unable to communicate at all, and I need to talk, especially with you. I had hoped they'd call you instead of my folks, while they were bringing me to the hospital. I had your card in my pocket and had left all my other identification in a ditch, in a plastic bag, covered with some stones. I knew my father would pitch a bitch if they called him here, especially with the way I was dressed.”

She paused to try to get her breath and cough, and then continued.

“I knew about your place, but I was dumb. I figured my family would come around and want me back after they saw I was serious about being a girl. They didn't though, and I wandered the streets, like I said, for over a year or so. Finally, I found one of your cards, and I was at my wits end. I thought I'd try to get there and stay until I got healthy again.”

“Oh honey! I wish you had come to the Home sooner. That's the reason we're there, to help kids like you...adults too. Well, what's done is done. As soon as you're out of here, we'll take you with us an you can live with us as long as you like.”

“That's nice, Miss Cathilynn.” she yawned. “I think maybe I'm gonna nap a little bit. Can we talk more when I wake up?”

“We can talk all you want, sweetie, but I think you're right. A nap right now will help you regain some strength. When you wake up, and when you want to talk more, you just have them call me and I'll be here quicker than you can say my name.”

I leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, through the plexiglass face mask of the suit, and she squeezed my hand and then her eyes closed and her hand went limp. I quickly checked her breathing, but she was just asleep again. I went outside the ICU, shed the suit, and went back to the room I'd been in. I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs for a smoke. My eyes were watering, and I was sobbing quietly, and I wanted, more than anything, to just lay down and sleep for a week, but I had things to do. I heard someone coming up behind me and turned to see Sandra looking worried.

“Cathy? Don't you think you should get some rest? You've been under a lot of stress the last day or two, and I know the doctors want you to rest.”

“Sandy, I know all that, but I need a smoke, and I need to contact my lawyer about getting legal custody over Sara. I need to check with the police to see if they've made any headway in arresting whoever was responsible for that kid's beating and rape. I can't do that from my room, so I'm going out for a smoke, and to use my cell phone. You can come with me if you want, but I'm going.”

Sandra objected, but she went outside with me and stayed by my side while I smoked and talked. My lawyer told me that papers were in the works and all they lacked was the signature of Sara's parents. A friendly Judge had already agreed to transfer custody to me as soon as the papers were signed. The cops had no real leads, since Sara had been unable to identify anyone, other than gang colors. The cops were trying to do something with forensics evidence, but the rain, dirt and other factors had made almost impossible to gather anything useful at all, except for the rape kit that had been done when Sara was admitted to the E.R.

I slumped down onto a bench and just breathed deeply between drags on my cigarette, Sandra at my side.

“The doctors want me to quit these things, you know, Sandy? I've tried so many times, but I always start again. I always thought I was strong, but these little cylinders are stronger than I am.” I began to sob.

“I know I have to stay alive as long as I can, so I, and all of us, can help more kids like Sara, and adults like you and Irene, and I know I came close today to cashing in my chips. Maybe this time the doctors will give me something strong enough that I can break this nasty habit. I hope so.” and I broke down, sobbing.

Sandra moved closer tome and put her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

“We'll all help you Cathy, you know that, but in the end, it's all up to you. You have to decide to WANT to quit and you have to decide whether it's more important to help the Home and people, than it is to take whatever solace you find in those cigarettes. Right now, do what you have to do to de-stress, but after this is all over, I think it'll be time for all of us to re-examine our lives and what we want to do.
Finish your smoke and lets go back inside. It's getting chilly out here anyway. Come on, hon.”

She helped me up and held me as we went back inside. I was still crying, and Sandra knew that I was at a breaking point again. She took me to my room, made me lay down, and sat by the bed, holding my hand until I finally dropped off into a troubled sleep.