Getting by (A Knight's Tale) (6 page)

“He’s strong, Nana, a simple broken hip won’t break him.” I put an arm around her while we sat on the hard blue chairs of the waiting room. She nodded in agreement. I caught grief in her blue eyes before she rested her head over my chest while we waited for any news. What would Mom say in moments like these? I didn’t know. Would Mom look like her mom if she hadn’t died? I mentally lectured myself for even thinking about my parents and how much I needed them at the moment. Instead I closed off all emotions, staying strong for Nana.

Thirty two minutes later—I counted them—the doctor who performed surgery on Grampy, brought good news with him. The words I caught from his speech were “stable, and should be conscious in a couple of hours, responded well, the healing will take time”. I stopped snipping at the words he gave and paid more attention after the mention of…his healing will take time.

“What do you mean take time?” I stopped him right there to make an effort to understand what he just said. “You said the surgery was a success.”

“Yes.” He wiped the beads of sweat with the blue scrubs hat he held in his left hand. “We had to attach the bones with a plate, and the healing is a slow process that could take from six weeks up to a year. I recommend you hire a nurse to help him around the house, and physical therapy twice a week. There’s a list we’ll provide you with when he’s discharged in a week. Hip fractures are a delicate matter, Miss Lynden.” I wanted to correct him, but let it go because his news went from good to catastrophic in less than five sentences.

“His metabolic functions might change, his immune system could degenerate, as in weaken, and any illness can be fatal. As I said, we need to wait and see how he reacts. The after care is fundamental for his future health. You can go to his room.”

Numbed, I told Nana to go ahead, I needed to use the girl’s room and grab some food for both of us. I walked fast toward the bathroom, and as soon as I got inside the stall and locked it, the tears began to fall at a ridiculous pace. It didn’t matter that I wanted to hold them inside, they always made their way through. Clenching my fists, I hit my thighs, desperately angered by the unfairness. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to be in a hospital bed. If I had taken better care of them, they wouldn’t be here suffering. It was all my fault for not maintaining their home like Grampy used to when he was younger.

I composed myself, blew my nose and headed to the sink; cold water and make up fixed my appearance. As long as no one noticed my inside wounds, everything would be fine in my world. Dad hated seeing me cry, so when he died I held in all the tears—for him. Chloe, on the other hand, sobbed so loud, everyone swore she was the only one who lost her parents. Not me, I didn’t like to draw attention to myself and have people give me pity. A final glance at the mirror told me I looked perfect. Not many knew my eyes turned green when I cried; the only give away of my break down.

As I left the bathroom, I dialed the phone to leave a message for my sister. “This is Chloe Anderson, leave a message after the beep.”

Knowing nothing would come out of what I said, but needing to talk to someone about it, I did. “Hi, Chloe, this is Emma.” I continued my way to the cafeteria while leaving said message. “Grampy had an accident, and we’re in the hospital.” I loved voicemails, so impersonal, I wanted to kiss them every time they replaced the person I didn’t want to contact, but had to. “I’ll tell them you’ll try to call and don’t have money for the fare. It’s been a while; I think someday I might tell them…not today. Love you, big sis.” I hung up, closed my eyes and searched for some strength before I continued with the charade I put up with.

Food in hand I went to Grampy’s room. When I handed the food to Nana, she asked me about Chloe. “Did you call her?” I nodded. “I did too, but she never calls back.” With a shrug and a smile, I steered the conversation toward Grampy’s health.

Yet Nana didn’t let it go and circled back to my sister. “Chloe has a life, an important job that doesn’t pay well.” I opened my mouth and then closed it. Nothing I said would come out right or make things better for me. They loved Chloe and talking about her with them would bring them more ache and pain than what they had already gone through.

“We coped in different ways since my Anna died, Emmy. You became detached, insensitive and unemotional. What happened to my delicate girl whose soul was filled of love, imagination and wonder? Have you used a brush, a pastel or clay since Anna died?” I shook my head and turned toward Grampy’s bed begging him to wake up before I had to endure another lecture of how horrible I was.

“Emma, you threw yourself into school, what child finishes at twenty one and gets a job like yours?” I had feelings, just not any I wanted to share with the class. Yes I worked, but I loved my job. And who cared about painting? My throat became tight and my stomach was clenched by the fist of truth. The pain grew as it squeezed tighter, making the pounds of metal inside scratch the walls with the sharp edges.

“My carefree girl, who twirled around with a fairy costume doesn’t believe in knights with shiny armors or dragons anymore.” I scratched my nose and crinkled it. “But I’m fine with it, because I respect you and it became your way of coping. I only pray one day she comes out again, to play. The same way you should respect Chloe.” A nod and a flat smile was my response to her request. My silence about my sister had nothing to do with all the gibberish she gave me. I loved them and didn’t want them to endure the truth about my reserved attitude to all Chloe-related subjects.

My grandfather’s recovery didn’t go as smooth as we had hoped. I stayed three weeks helping them. I hired around the clock nurses, but in the end I had to move them to an assisted living home; because not only was Grampy not responding well to his physical therapy, but also Nana got depressed. Moving to Connecticut wasn’t an option for me. I had to work, help pay their bills and also I needed to stay away from them. Getting too close and losing them would’ve been emotional suicide. There weren’t walls thick and tall enough to protect my heart if I lost them. And I knew the accident had been my fault for being careless with them.

“Are you still there, Emmy?” Grampy asked, snapping me out of my fogged trance. I mumbled in response. “Good, did you arrive safe, or are you still in New York?”

“I arrived yesterday.” My response came abrupt, because I tried to suck back the tears that threatened to spill.
Be brave,
I reminded myself,
he’s going to be fine
. Grampy has to be fine. “You’ll be proud of me. I called Grandma Lily, as I promised you. I left a voicemail and hopefully I’ll get to see her this week.”

For the three weeks I lived with my grandparents, they tried to convince me to make an effort to get in touch with my paternal grandparents and Chloe. I needed my family. They wouldn’t be around forever, and they needed the security of knowing that I would be taken care of.

“Have some fun, go and meet a good boy.” Grampy told me. “One who will take you serious and take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone. Life is better shared with others. Love, and let others love you.”

I blurted the first thing that came to mind to stop his discourse about me having some kind of love-life. “Grandma Lily hates me—”

“Nonsense, Emmy.” Grampy stopped me before I got my rant out. The one where I said that they both decided I wasn’t who they wanted as a granddaughter. “You were their favorite since the day you were born.” He patted my hand. “We don’t have one, but since you’re the only one that we see…well you know. Give them a call, not today, but soon. Promise?”

“I will.” Putting my other hand on top of his, I rested my head on his shoulder. In hope that these weren’t some “see you in the next life” words, I promised him that I would seek out my other set of grandparents. “Promise that it will get done soon.”

“Today I’m going to Gaby’s for a family barbeque.” I tried to gear the conversation because he was quiet.

“Eat a hamburger for me.” Grampy’s voice was replaced by loud coughs. “Sorry, sweetie, I think I’m going to hang up now. I’m not fully recovered.” An understatement; he sounded terrible and I understood why he didn’t talk as much. “I love you, Emmy, have a little fun for a change.”

“Love you too, Grampy, tell Grams I’ll call her tonight.”

Chapter 7

Emma

I SAT ON THE bed to put myself together before Gaby picked me up. Three seconds after the clock turned to eleven, a knock on the door announced Gaby’s presence. I slipped on my new open toe Gucci wedges, adjusted the strap and checked myself in the full size mirror behind the door one last time. Flat hair checked, flouncy white and black sleeveless top adjusted and my skinny jeans looked fine. I applied my soft peach lipstick, spritzed lavender essence one more time and shoved my cosmetic bag inside my tote.

“Ready.” I opened the door, and she glared at my wedges. My almost five foot ten height with shoes wasn’t to her satisfaction, but I didn’t care today. I felt small and needed a prompt to help me keep afloat from everything that surrounded me.

“Why can’t I come inside, Emma?” she asked, suspicious after I shut the door behind me. “Are you hiding a hot guy, or you got a new fetish you don’t want me to know about?”

“No and you are weird. Fetish, really, because I closed the door?”

“No, well, I thought we could talk.” She checked my face and pulled a strand apart from my hair and slid her index finger through it.
Ouch.
“Why did you flatiron your hair? I like your curls.”

“You and everyone that doesn’t have to deal with the mess.” I smoothed my hair with both hands while we walked to the elevator doors. She called the elevator and magically the doors opened. Inside, I inspected her face. Her dark eyes were analyzing mine…. The firecracker was hiding something. I could see it in the way she was measuring my temper.

“Spit it, now,” I said, when the chime announced we had reached the main level and the doors opened. But Gaby ignored me. “You’re pulling a
Gaby
.” Thankfully my long legs could keep up with the marathon like speed she walked with to her parked car. “I’m not going to like it.” Gaby stopped, gave me a glare and continued. “Two doors, number one has an unpleasant blast from the past.” Which I had been mentally prepared to do. “Two, a guy. Which one? Don’t pimp me, Gaby, you know I hate it.”

“Pimp you?” she fake shivered. “No way, I learned my lesson. Tom, he will be at the party. Daddy invited most of his top sales guys.”

“Why is he a car salesman?” The guy scored a full ride to Stanford, so I didn’t get it. “What happened to Stanford?”

“Malory,” she said. “And Stephanie Brooks too. He has four children now, the two oldest are five years old. Do the math.”

“Twins?” Gaby shook her head. “One for each slut?” My eyes widened when she nodded.

Tom was my worst decision during my teenage years. We began to date when I turned sixteen, and continued up until he decided to screw me over. Or I didn’t let him do me. He slept with Malory—because he could. I never let things go too far, but he gave me grief when I stopped him after each heated make out session. Unlike Malory, I wasn’t ready. Tom swore he loved me, translation—let me inside your panties. Senior trip I planned to give it up—for him. But things didn’t work as I wanted. My parents didn’t have the money to pay for my trip and they used my own savings for Chloe’s college expenses.

“Sorry, Emma, we don’t have the money,” Mom explained, after I begged her for the fourth time to let me go. “Our expenses increased, and it’s just a stupid trip.” She didn’t understand my social life was hanging by a thread.

Years of saving my birthday, Christmas and odd jobs money gave me the power to pay for myself. “Fine, I’ll use my own money!” Who the hell had they thought they were? I was a few weeks shy of turning eighteen and had a hefty savings account waiting for me. Or so I thought. My online banking system told me my balance was two dollars and three cents.

The best lesson learned that evening was that parents shouldn’t have access to their children’s checking accounts, because they think that gives them the right to steal from them.

I walked toward the studio, where she was working on a brand new piece of glass. “Where’s my money?” I yelled at her. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked for it? You can’t just barge into my bank account and drain it.”

“I won’t allow you to talk to me like that, Emma Lilian,” she raised her voice. “Wait until your father comes out and he’ll deal with you.”

Before I retired to my room, I threw one of my clay pieces on the stained glass she had been working on; shattering it and yelling at her. “I hate you, you’re ruining my life.”

Wise words every teenager throws to their parents at least once every week. Though it was the first and only time I used the clichéd phrase, and at the moment, I felt each word I blurted out. Dad came from his office yelling that I shouldn’t talk to Mom like that. They excused their actions, no, they shielded themselves behind Chloe. She needed the money. New York was expensive.

A day later, my sister and I had a huge fight over those savings. She insulted me and called me a selfish brat. I was harsh with my entire family, and Mom compared me to Grandma Lily.

I didn’t tell my boyfriend about the trip until the last minute, afraid of a letdown. He climbed inside the bus and didn’t look back at me. For an entire week he ignored me because I didn’t go or have the decency to tell him before that day. I did it to avoid his cold shoulder, and yet I still got it. My world crumbled for the first time, and his indifference felt like a stab in the heart. Tom ignored my texts and voicemails during that week.