“Okay,” I squeaked out.
“I’ll be sitting right out here if you need me.” Mrs. Splintz squeezed my hand just before I pushed the door open to the hospital room.
The stark white of the room caused my eyes to strain. Before me I could see the end of the hospital bed. Like a metronome keeping time, the heart rate monitor beeped, breaking the sterile silence. A respirator that sounded past its prime wheezed in the distance. My heart pounded in my ears as I walked closer. Images of my mother bombarded me, causing my head to throb in pain. Swallowing seemed to take massive effort. I crossed the room to stand before my grandmother’s bed. She looked like death. Not in the way my mom did; my mom had still looked young, and she had a pinkish hue to her cheeks all the way to the end. But my grandmother did not. Chalk had more color than she did. She lay in the bed, hooked up to the necessary machines that were helping her survive. Machines I had seen before. Two IV bags dripped clear fluid into her veins. Everything felt disconnected, and my knees buckled. I clutched the side table before crashing into the chair beside it.
I was rubbing my thigh that had smacked the edge of the table when a doctor walked in. He was tall, older, and he looked solemn.
“Are you Marissa? The granddaughter?” He held a chart firmly in his hands.
The granddaughter? What did that mean? “Yes, this is my grandmother.” I wanted to vomit.
“And you’re her only family?” He took a pen from his coat pocket and clicked it.
“Basically, yes.” My mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper.
He cleared his throat. “Marissa, your grandmother’s condition is quite severe.”
“How severe?” My toes curled inside my sneakers.
“She’s not only had a heart attack; she’s also had a stroke.”
No, no, no!
“We’ve got her stabilized right now, but she’s in a comatose state.”
Comatose? As in coma? “Is she going to—” The last word caught in my throat.
“We’re hoping for the best Marissa, but we also plan for the worst. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.” He scribbled something down on the chart he was holding, then clicked his pen, and placed it back in his front pocket. “Do you have any other questions?”
There was no sympathy in his voice. The way he delivered his speech was as if he’d given it ten times already today. He may have. Did I have any other questions? Yes, tell me positively whether she would die or not. Tell me where I’d live if she died. Where was my brother? Would she be with my mother if she died? Did Heaven exist? If you didn’t physically feel with your heart, then why did mine feel like it was split in half?
“No,” I mumbled. “No questions.”
“I’ll be back to check on her in a little while. Make sure to give all your information to reception.” With that, he turned on his heel and left, probably off to bring another round of updates to another family-in-waiting.
I looked at my grandmother. She appeared so frail and helpless. Cautiously, I touched her hand, happy to at least feel its warmth. The cold of death hadn’t taken her yet.
I truly felt I was going to vomit, so I went to the bathroom that was attached to the room. Like a dog on all fours, I stared at the floor as I heaved, but all that came out were the deep guttural sobs that were trapped in me. After several minutes, I was able to compose myself. I had blown my nose and washed my face with icy cold water. As I dried my hands with the scratchy paper towels, I felt my phone vibrating in my purse. Once I fished it out, I saw there was one new text message.
From Brandon, Hey, r u ok? I’m at ur car but dont c u newhere???
Then I couldn’t hold it back, and I vomited into the sink.
Chapter Sixteen
I was sitting in the passenger seat again of Mrs. Splitnz’s car. After getting sick in the bathroom at the hospital, all I wanted to do was go home for a while. The hospital had all my information and would call me if there was any change in my grandmother’s condition. My plans were to go back to visit later that evening. As for Brandon’s text, there was no way I could deal with him right now. Instead, I sent back a lame text to him.
Srry, got ride w/ Zoe. Catch up l8r
Even as I sent the message, I was disgusted with myself. Since I’d met him, I’d avoided telling him about my past. The past that had shaped who I’ve become. Now I was avoiding telling him about my present. Maybe I just shouldn’t have been involved with anyone. If I was so guarded about my life, how I could I ever be open in a relationship? No one can live a double life forever. Someone always finds out. And someone always gets… hurt.
****
“You’ve got to come to a place where you can open yourself up to people.” Psychotherapist Janet Lillyhood said after our fifth therapy session together.
It had been four months since my mother had passed away. And four months since my brother had taken off. Gram had started to notice that I was withdrawing more. I wouldn’t hang out with any of my friends besides Zoe. At that point, I had quit the track team and cut off almost all contact with my former teammates. And I was never up for going out anywhere. Just school and work. That was my life, or what was left of it. One day I made the mistake of telling Gram that I wasn’t
