Strength
Courage, magnanimity, persistence, patience, spiritual power. Able to offset any bad luck in surrounding cards.
She didn’t hear me enter the room, and if I hadn’t had to grab the pencil off the desk near the grimy key board she wouldn’t have noticed me. Many a time I would sign in and just fall asleep on that crinkling bed and she would only notice when the bell for lunch, or buses rang. Her small eyes flicked up at me, and I knew the look that swept across her face very well by now. It told me to sign in and sit down; she’d be with me soon.
I wrote my initials down, writing my name was tiresome, and a waste of time. At first she would make me write out my full name, but after so many trips here she knew me, and just accepted it. I returned the pencil where I had gotten it, and then grudgingly brought myself to the bed. I plopped down, dropping my bag on the floor, and leaned my head against the cold plaster wall behind me. I felt my shoulders slump, and let out a ragged breath. I felt the last trickle of warm blood seep down the corner of my lips, some squirmed into my mouth and the metallic taste brought me back from the verge of sleep.
I let my head loll to my shoulder, and looked over blankly to the nurse. I could hear the clicks from the keyboard, heard her hit the keys that stick, heard the backspace to fix an error. I was so use to this, so accustomed. Yet after all these trips her name still escaped me, I always tried to remember but couldn’t, as if I wasn’t allowed to.
Finally after what must have been 5 minutes she scooted her chair back on the tiled floor making a screeching sound, and stood. She walked over to a small cupboard that hung on the third wall in between the desk and bed. She pulled up a small stepping stool, and climbed up to get out her usual tools. Rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs, and bandages.
While she came over to me and started cleaning the slashes on my cheek with the alcohol I let my mind wander slightly, I always felt safe here, safe enough to think. I thought about how the cupboards were too high for her, about work once school let out, about the bills that would be coming next month.
The sting of the alcohol was minimal, but when it got into the deepest of the gashes I flinched slightly. She pulled back for a moment, and then continued. She always did that. Finally she applied a skin toned band-aid to my cheek, and turned to put the “tools” away. I saw her grab for her stool, noticing the strain it put on her to even climb up onto the small step. I stood and took the bottle and boxes from her hands, and put the things away. I was taller than her since she was a very small woman, and didn’t need to use the stool.
She put her hand on my shoulder, and I flinched away. She retracted her hand, and let it hang by her side. She knew I disliked being touched, and she never questioned me as to why. That’s why I felt safe here, why I didn’t mind this old woman.
She never questioned me.
She returned to her small desk, and sat down. Again the sound of computer keys filled the small dusty room. I had planned on returning to class, but I felt like my body would just collapse. I’ve always been so tired, and if I could I would just leave school, sleep until I was needed for work. But I can’t. So instead I walked back to the bed, and felt the unlocking of my knees as I fell to the mattress.
I guess I fell asleep…
~ ~ ~
