Participants:
| Scene Title | Needs More Salt |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's more than just popcorn, Delia's entire life needs a good dose of it. |
| Date | January 13, 2011 |
Brennan Home
Delia's already been in the Brennan household for a half hour - Brian dropped her off at the bottom door that Cardinal had gotten used to using. A portable table set up, computer chairs, the table littered with jacks and rubber balls, marbles, a bowl with popcorn in it and music playing over hidden speakers, they're well into Delia's physio therapy session. "Okay, and again, marbles in the container, don't touch a jack or a ball. You get popcorn if you can do it" Bribery. It works so well. Brennan's arm out of the sling, well on his own way to healing, still the trail of stitches that remain from the accident caused by her coming back into her body. "Last time, I promise, then we'll switch to something else" The Ipad has been banished, Delia has no choice but to speak to him, use her words. The only upside to this is that Brennan's used to figuring out garbled words thanks to his oldest daughter.
Delia, on the other hand, has done quiet well without the aid of the iPad for speaking. Thanks to Nick, it's become a little more snail paced than her own vocals. Her grammer, though, needs a lot of work. "Need more salt," is the response to the promise of more popcorn but she's smiling a little as she says it. Slowly, she moves her hand toward one of the marbles and picks at it, trying to get a grip. The swimming has helped as well, making her ache but she's getting stronger.
Three marbles in and she's doing quite well, not having touched anything else. Until a muscle spasm has her hand jerking across the table and accidentally throwing a bunch of the toys on the floor. Squinting her eyes at the table, she presses her lips together to stop from crying in frustration. She knows this should be easy. She remembers being much better at simple tasks than this. Now she can't even tie her own shoes.
"Oh now that was a seven. You can spasm better than that. Next time, I want them going across the room and putting some effort into it" Brennan makes light of the situation, trying to find ways to turn the accidents and small failures into positives or into therapy itself. "Start again, I'll buzz up for buttered salted popcorn, and get the stuff on the floor"
Out comes his hand though, pressing on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "It's gonna take time Delia. You were disconnected for a long time. But you're doing good. Just think, soon, it'll be plastic cups and not sippy cups. Hows the swimming coming along?"
A the mention of swimming, Delia's entire demeanor lightens and she smiles as bright as daylight. "Nick came. Took me swimming." The man's name is said with a little bit of an admiring sigh as a blush creeps to her cheeks. "Got new a suit. Makes me less ugly." She knows she needs to gain more weight, no one needs to tell her so.
Licking her lips and then catching the bottom one to chew on it, she reaches toward one of the marbles in an attempt to grab it and place it into the container. This time she's not as good at it and drops the marble with a clatter, sending a few of the jacks springing up. With a long exasperated sigh, she places both of her hands on the table and glances out the window. "Nicer here than home. Sunny." He told her at their first meeting what his wife was able to do. Giving him a sheepish glance, she lifts one side of her lips into a smile.
"Doc? You like Nick?" It's a loaded question to ask the man, she has no idea if they've met before or not. "He .. carried me out of car. Helped me."
"Ahh the guy who came barging in while I was begging your brother to please give you to me so that Dema could drop you back in your body" Brennan lifts his shoulders, one a little less higher than the other then gently sets them back down. "First impressions is all I really got but, he carted you around in him it seems, for a bit. He also kept begging me to go easy on you, not punish you for what amounts to an accident. And in the car he was in the back with me and when your brother hit the guard rail, he was the first to cover you so that you wouldn't get hurt"
Brennan rises from the table, retreating to his office to hit the intercom on the phone, see if someone will bring down food and drinks. Time for a break. When he returns though, sleeves of his v-neck sweater pushed up to his elbows and jeans creaking as he parks down on the chair, he's regarding the oniermancer. "What do you think, of Nick?"
Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, a faint blush creeps over the young woman's face. "He— He is honest." At least with her, he is. "No lies, I know where I am when I am with him." Her voice seems to hold a sense of sorrow when talking about him. A long breath to expel all of the air from her lungs and the young woman begins with the marbles again. plunk one plunk two plunk three… Over and over without touching anything else.
Apparently, she's deep in thought. The question the doctor posed, though simple, has layers that she hasn't thought about before. Tiring quickly, she rests her palms on the table and stares down at them. "Is… is it better to be alone than live a lie?"
"I think that that question has many answers and dependant upon the lie, and upon who you're lying to." Brennan supposits, picking up the marbles, deeming his patient done with that for the moment. There's other things to do, like crayons and paper, both of which are placed on the table when he's done, a gesture for her to get coloring inside the lines of a mouse, sniffing a flower in a garden. Fat chunky crayons.
"If you don't lie, and you're alone, then you're alone, but you can live with yourself. If you lie, all lies come out in the end, and you'll end up alone, and then you have no choice but to know whether you can live with yourself."
"Yes…" the young redhead says in response to the doctor's lesson. Picking up a blue crayon, she colors its eyes. She does well on that area, keeping them bright and pretty and squiggle free. Then the black crayon is favored for the fur, she doesn't do as well there, missing the lines in too many places for it to be considered a neat picture.
Her hand slows to a stop before she looks up at the dark haired doctor again. "Doctor, I want to go back… live with Nick." Things were so much easier there. Certainly more dangerous but she didn't have to deal with puzzles and crayons and learning how to walk… and assisted bathroom excursions.
"What will you need, if you go live with Nick. Are you prepared, is he prepared physically to meet your needs while you recover? Have you talked with him about what you want to do? Men, I have to tell you, are notoriously not mind readers, likely even when they have telepathy. We're terrible at anticipating needs. Mish will tell you that"
Brennan reaches over, picking up a red crayon and attacking the flower, working around Delia and her hand.
"No… he said I can visit…" Delia admits in a low tone, dropping the black crayon to pick up a pink one. With it she colors in the ears and nose. "He— I would live in him. Not with." Hoping the clarification is enough, she looks up at Brennan and her lips turn down slightly, unhappily. "Everything so heavy, so bad. I do not like it."
Holding up her hand, she tries to make a graceful swirl in the air that ends up being choppy and out of sync to her own eyes. "Cannot do anything any more."
"Ahh, that kind of a lie" Brennan's tone drops. "I think Delia, that as much as it sounds like you miss being there, I think you would be very lonely. You'd only see him when he sleeps, and you'd miss so much out here in the real world. A sunrise in the mind is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to the real thing. Or eating a bagel with cream cheese and feeling the texture. It would be momentary, fleeting in the mind" Brennan takes her hand, moving her through the motions of what she was trying to do, lending a little support but leaving most of it up to her.
"A week ago, you needed a iPad to talk, you could move barely anything and you were rag and bones. Today, you are picking up marbles, coloring a mouse, eating your own popcorn and when you get back to your brothers, you're going to sit in bed with barbells and lift them twenty times each arm for me. How about you put off the moving plans, till next week and see how far you are then. And… and maybe, I'll have something for you, something that will make you feel… not so heavy"
"Because of Nick…" she murmurs, letting loose yet another soft sigh. "Want to get better before he goes away. Don't— " She stutters and halts, concentrating before continuing. "I do not want him to remember me like this. So ugly and so helpless." It's not a secret from anyone how ashamed she is about being like this. Anyone who has come to visit, at least.
She gives Brennan a small mile and nods at his instructions. "One week. Until I come back." It's a small promise to make, even with all the homework she's being assigned. "If I go back, I will bring him color again. He is happy with me there. He told me to stay with him."
"Visiting him is a good idea. I think, that he would like a visit. And color. But knock first, if you know how. If not, I can ask Dema to teach you." There's a knock on the door to the basement, Michelle entering a few moments later with the tray of popcorn and soda can's. A sippy cup likely borrowed from the old stash of the twins. Not a word to Delia, she doesn't want to interrupt, just a wink, a caress of Brennan's neck after she sets the tray down and just like that , the weather manipulator is gone, leaving only the scent of her perfume in her wake.
"Michelle broke her leg. A few places, lost a baby. Well over a year ago. She had to go through months of physio, she hated it too. hated not being able to walk on that leg, hated feeling betrayed be her leg and it's inability to do what she wanted of it." You're not alone Delia, is silently spoken. If Michelle can walk again, Delia can walk again. Not easily but… things will be as they are.