Survivor by Kaye Draper Read Free Book Online Page B

had
wheelchairs.  “It’s no big deal,” I tossed after me.
    Everyone had started to take their seats and a
short, brown-haired woman in dark jeans and a snappy little red jacket came in
to take her place in the circle, unofficially calling the meeting to order. 
    “Hello everyone.”  Her big smile lit up the room,
and the little side conversations started to die down.  Melissa was a Speech
therapist, and she led our group discussions and helped to keep us on track-
something that could be difficult with a group of brain injury survivors.  When
her gaze lit on me, she grinned again, obviously having overheard Joanie’s
comment.
    “Today, I thought we might talk about relationships
and how you guys are doing with making friends out in the community.”  We had a
general list of topics that the group suggested, so this really wasn’t any
surprise.  I gritted my teeth.  Of course, I would love to gush about Peter,
but it was embarrassing.  Disinhibition and not being able to be entirely
appropriate all the time was a big problem for a lot of people in the group and
I really wasn’t looking forward to their questions, even if the intent was
harmless.
    Melissa crossed her legs and got comfortable.  “We
can just have a general discussion,” she said, calling the meeting to order. 
“But I thought we might start with talking about what makes it hard to form
relationships with others when you have a brain injury and maybe some of the
things that help you to cope with these issues.”
    Now that the discussion had turned more serious,
everyone was quiet.  Finally, Joanie raised her hand.  “I’m loud,” she said
bluntly.  “I know I am, and I try to tone it down, but I have all this energy,
and sometimes it freaks people out.  I don’t realize it until afterwards.  I’m
a little slow to catch on.”
    A couple other group members nodded.  It was a
common problem.  Melissa looked around the room.  Her eyes settled on a
slender, blond woman doing her best to hide, head down and eyes averted. 
“April,” she said warmly.  “Do you find it hard to make friends out in the
community?”
    The woman clasped her small hands in her lap and
screwed up her courage enough to meet Melissa’s eyes.  April had been in our
group for months, but she was still scared.  I couldn’t imagine how she coped
with meeting new people.  “It’s hard,” she said in a voice barely above a
whisper.  “I don’t like people.”
    Melissa nodded.  “I know your injury has made you
more self-conscious than before.”  She smiled gently.  “But you come here every
month and talk to us.  You’re doing great and we enjoy having you.”
    April nodded, her eyes darting everywhere.  “It
helps that I know we’re all messed up.”  Then she went back to looking at the
floor.
    Everyone took turns sharing their experiences, from
the man who couldn’t speak well and had difficulty being understood, to the
woman who was sexually inappropriate and tended to share too much when she met
someone new.  I soaked in their stories, comforted anew by being surrounded by
people who were like me, just a step or two outside the norm.  I slowly felt
myself settle into my survivor role like an old shirt that I hadn’t worn in a
while.  Being around the people at work, my family, and all the other people in
my life who were all “normal” sometimes felt like wearing a mask. 
    I took a bite of my last cookie, trying to be a
silent observer, but Melissa was having none of it.  She always picked on me
and I could never get through an entire meeting without being put on the spot. 
“Melody, how have things been going for you lately?”  Her voice was sweet, but
I knew she wouldn’t ask me if she didn’t expect me to share something with the
group.
    The cookie suddenly felt dry and tasteless in my
mouth.  I glanced at the clock.  Maybe we would run out of time.  I cleared my
throat and tried to gather my thoughts.