Nice

During college, Madi dated a man who was crippled by polio in one leg for two years. Zoryg was close friends with this man too, and so Madi and Zoryg grew close.

“I’m just nice,” said Madi.

“You’re too nice,” said Zoryg.

They all graduated. Madi moved back in with her parents in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and Zoryg moved to Madison.

Madi met Brendan at a support group for severe traumatic brain injury survivors. He was attending intensive outpatient therapy at a hospital. After years of persistent depression, Madi’s dad drove her to for a therapy support group for traumatic brain injury survivors.

She was only 24 when she walked into the drab room. Atop a sea of blue carpeting, mostly older people sat in blue padded chairs around a long brown table.

Madi’s pale green eyes scanned the room. Most people were older and were in wheelchairs or had walkers – Madi walked independently. She began to grow dismayed, but not surprised. Then, she spotted one young man at the far end of the table who looked about her age with a walker. She made my way over and sat next to him.

She turned to him. “Hi, my name is Madi. What’s yours?”

“Bbbbbrrrrreeeennnnddddaaaan,” came an slow, squeaky, all-too-familiar slow, high-pitched reply. I had spoken this way when I first woke up too.

Brendan was in the initial phases of his recovery – his accident had been just a few months ago. We chatted, and to my relief I found that, though his movements were still severely impaired, his mind had been virtually unaffected by his brain injury. I asked what had happened to him. He told me that he had overdosed on heroin while trying to kill himself. I am so gullible that I am just now realizing that he wasn’t trying to kill himself… he overdosed, just like the next heroin addict. After the meeting, he asked for my number. Like a fool, I gave it to him.

I knew that the first two years after an accident is the time when the brain heals significantly faster than it does afterwards. Over the next two years, I emphasized this to Brendan. I called him frequently to help him practice speaking.

Years later, something horrible happened. Brendan choked out his girlfriend because she said she was going to leave him. He left bruises on her neck. His parents called the police when they heard her banging on the wall. It was only being charged as a misdemeanor because she didn’t press charges. I was furious.

I textext Zoryg about it and explained to him what happened.

“She’s a fool,” I said.

His response was, simply, “She’s nice.”