Page 23 of Words Unspoken

Carting around a deck of picture cards, just in case someone asked him a question. Michael sighed. Was there a card for not happy and would rather be doing something else?

“This card is if you would like to phone someone. See? It has a phone on it.”

Pretty self-explanatory, mused Michael.

“This is a picture of a toilet so that you can ask where the bathroom is during a trip.”

No. Absolutely not. He was not going to be a fifty-year-old man holding up a picture of a toilet to some stranger. They would think he was a pervert or something.

“Here is a music note so that you can ask someone to sing or turn on the radio,” Ted pushed up the glasses again. “This one has a giraffe, elephant, and ape on it. You might want to ask someone if they would like to go to the zoo.”

Go to the zoo. Really. Michael ran a hand across the stubble on his chin. Maybe Ted had brain damage.

That was uncharitable. He really shouldn’t think like that. The poor guy was just trying to do his job.

“Here we have a picture of an Xbox if you wanted to ask someone to play a game.”

Michael looked up and prayed for patience. The way he figured it, he really just needed one card. It should simply say, ‘Hi, my name is Michael. I have speech aphasia. That means I cannot talk but I understand everything you say.’ That was the card he needed. Maybe it should have a phone number on the other side. Like a lost dog tag, please call so and so if you find me.

“This is a television.”

He could see that. He was not blind. “Hmmn.”

“Pardon me?” Ted squinted at him.

Michael shook his head and tapped the next card. Best to get this over with.

“Oh! That is if you would like to go to the park.”

This was geared for children. Great. He picked up some cards and sorted through them. Nothing for the beach. He wondered how he was going to tell Ann that he wanted to go back to the beach house. Perhaps he could just tote around an erase board and a dry erase marker? He was credible at sketching.

Ted went through the rest of the cards with him. He gathered them up and handed them to Michael. “This is your very own deck.”

Wonderful, his very own deck. Michael slowly took them. He offered his hand to Ted, who surprised, shook it.

“Do you need help back to your room?”

Michael shook his head negative. He managed just fine, his sense of direction not letting him down. However, the nurses at the station waylaid him, sending him for another round of head scans. Michael patiently put up with the prodding. Finally, they changed his bandage, Dr. Hemmond overseeing. Everything was pronounced good, and he received a smaller bandage. The diaper was gone. He was released once more but instead of heading back to his room, Michael found a mirror in the men is room. The bandage was a lot smaller but still stood out, pronouncing him damaged. He didn’t like it. He was not a vain man, but he did like to be tidy, put together. He sighed, resigned. At some point it would go away. So would the stitches. His hair would grow back and cover the scar. In the meanwhile, he would just have to live with it.

Michael made his way back to his room. Ann was still there, jotting down something in a day planner. Max had left. Michael tossed the cards onto the side table. One of them caught his eye and suddenly a solution presented itself to him. He looked at the clock on the wall. He had maybe a half hour.

“The Yankees lost by three. At least they caught up in the end,” Ann said. “They changed your bandage. It is smaller, that must be good.”

Michael nodded absently, opening the cupboard and riffling through his overnight bag for his wallet. There was his credit card. Perfect. He palmed it and walked out.

“Michael?” Ann is voice floated after him.

He went to the gift shop and looked around. There, perfect. The clerk rang it up for him without an issue. See, he didn’t need those cards. He smiled, ripping off the price tag. He put the grey knit hat on his head. It covered the bandage easily. It was comfortable. It fit with his sweats. For a moment, Michael felt normal. No one was looking at him and wondering about his head like he was some sort of freak. It was a good feeling.

He returned to his room where Ann was waiting. When she spotted the hat, it was obvious that she didn’t know what to say. He sat on the bed and patiently waited. He knew that she would figure out the why. Ann knew him better than anyone.

She came to stand before him and gently adjusted the hat. “Got tired of everyone looking at your head?”

He nodded.

“With the beard stubble it is a good look on you. Very Gary Vee,” she trailed her hand over his cheek as she cited the famous entrepreneur.

He rolled his eyes.