Better with you

Chapter 3

Alexis pov

Ray paused outside his father's room, and looked at me. The room was besides mine, for obvious reasons.
"I have to warn you, he's not the best person you will ever meet." Ray said.
"It's okay." I said.
"He's gnarly, rude, and sometimes very stubborn." He said in a cautious tone.
"Oh great! Like father, like son." I joked. But I soon realised I wasn't supposed to say that out loud because Ray shot me a glare. Oh god.

"You're funny." He said in a flat tone.
"I apologise." I said sincerely.

Viktor was about to open the door but I stopped him.
"Wait!"
"I have to ask you some questions before I see the patient." I said to Ray.
"Do not refer to him as a patient. That's my father." Ray snapped at me.

"He is your father, not mine, and if you want me to act like a professional, allow me to be one. He is my patient, and that's what I would be referring to him as." I retorted.

I knew Ray was an angry bird and people feared him, but I refused to be looked down upon by him. I'm not going to be scared of him and not going to let him treat me that way.

He did not respond. He motioned Viktor to open the door. As we entered, Ray asked Viktor to step outside. His father was on the wheelchair, looking out the window. He wasn't bothered by the fact that we had just entered his room. He was unfazed. Ray cleared his throat, but Samuel did not look at us.

"Dad, the new nurse is here to see you." Ray said.
"Oh is she?" Samuel replied, still looking out the window. I decided to go near him.
"Hey Mr. Armstrong. I'm Alexis." I said, bending over to him. He finally looked at me.
"Hello, young lady. Good to see a new face." He said.
"Good to see you too." I said as I brought my hand forward for a handshake. He shook it weakly.

"How are you doing today? Is there any pain?" I asked as I checked his pulse and vitals. Everything looked great, but his breathing was a little weaker than it should be.
"I'm bored of being in this room." He responded. I looked at Ray, but he seemed uninterested.

I set up my things on the side table, while I chatted with Samuel. I found his chart, and I went through it.
"Do you want to go out?" I asked him.
"Yes." He immediately responded.
"No." Ray intervened. I frowned at him.

"Why not?" I asked Ray.
"Don't bother lady. He's never going to let me be happy, I tell you." Samuel said. Ray left without answering me.

Samuel was not at all like Ray described. He was rather sweet. I have catered to many patients to know how difficult it is to be stuck in a wheelchair. Boredom gets the best of them, especially if they're old. They need to be assured that they are valued and loved.

I went through all the medication and case history of Mr Samuel. For my record, I would need to ask him questions, but it can wait.

"Did you have your meal yet?" I asked him.
"No." He replied bluntly.
"Why not? you should've had by now." I said.
"I don't like the food they make." He retorted.

I rang the security bell that is on his chair to call one of the servants. A lady came in.
"You called me?" She asked. Her name-tag said Darla.

"Yes, can you tell me what was for lunch for Mr Armstrong?" I asked. She told me what the dish was and it took me a long while to comprehend. Why do rich people eat such sophisticated food?

Then I asked her what went in the dish, and from her response, I deduced that the food was almost tasteless. I'm sure it was. No wonder Samuel refused to eat.

"Can I see his diet chart? If you have." I asked Darla.
"Yes." She said before moving across the room to pull out Samuel's diet chart. Looks like he had been consulted by a nutritionist.

"That's Melissa Gomes. She's a very well known nutritionist." She said. I had never heard of this woman, but I'm sure she was a dietitian for rich people.

I went through his chart and realised that most of the food was absurd. There was complete cut down of any sort of fat and a very less percentage of carbs. For Samuels condition, I felt that it was important for him to have healthy fats and a good amount of carbs.

"Thank you, Darla. You don't need to follow this anymore. I'll give you a new diet plan for Mr. Armstrong." I told her.

I went over to the kitchen with Darla, and asked her to help me with a meal. It was important for Samuel to eat since he needed to take medicines. I made a quick chicken gravy with rice and sautéed veggies on the side.

I asked Darla to set up a plate on the dining table while I went and got Samuel, but she told me he takes his meals in the room.

Once we got him food, the aroma itself made his mouth water.
"Now this looks like something I'd like to eat!" Samuel grinned, wide eyed. He ate like he had been famished. I excused him while he finished his food.
"I'll be right outside." I told him.
"No, please stay." He told me. I obliged.

After he was done, he licked his fingers like a child. It was cute.
"I can get you more food, if you want." I told him.
"No I'm full, but it was a really good meal." He said. It made me smile wide. I always loved cooking for people, and loved it even more when they enjoyed the food I made.

"I'm glad." I told him.
"You should cook more often." Samuel said.
"How did you know I cooked?" I asked while sorting out his medicines.
"I've had the same chef for 20 years now. Michelin chefs don't have a home cooked taste." He said. I was speechless.

"Oh, wow." Was the only thing I said.

I gave him the injection that he was supposed to take after his meal, with other medicines. After a while he took a nap.

I decided to go back to my room and rest for a while. When I got to the room, I finally had the time to take a look at it. It was a beautiful, modern room with an attached open bathtub. I gasped. I had not even been to a hotel with a room like this.

(Something like this)

The mattress of the bed was so soft, I immediately fell asleep.