Lucky 13 (12 page)

Once I finally fall asleep, I dream of Grandma. We’re in the gazebo as we often were when she was alive. I’m telling her about my decision, and she holds me, telling me that she fully supports me. I watch as a much younger version of myself is running around in the grass. I walk out of the gazebo and run with her.

I can feel the afternoon sun warming my skin. The grass brushing against my toes causes them to tickle. Everything around me is in bloom, colors radiating as far as the eye can see. The blue of the water blends together with the green of the trees. I’m entranced by my surroundings. When the girl disappears, I look back to where I left Grandma and she’s gone.

Looking around, I’m at the house, in the backyard. I’m skipping stones on the river with a boy. He’s watching me intently and then he asks me something. I’m too far away to hear what it is. Walking closer, I still can’t hear what he’s saying. Then I hear Grandma call me, and when I turn around to look at her, I’m back at the gazebo.

I’m kissing the boy, in the gazebo. I don’t remember this. Is this real? When was this?

I blink and we’re at the end of Grandma’s driveway. He’s holding my hand and asking me if I have to leave. His voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I focus on his words for a moment before my own cause me to gasp. The beach. I was headed to the beach.

I wake up feeling panicked, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. I blink, willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. What just happened? What did I just dream? I remember Grandma and a boy and something about the beach. Everything else is fuzzy, and as much as I try and remember, details of the dream begin to fade away as my racing heart begins to calm.

After I splash water on my face and change my clothes, I crawl back in bed. My eyelids are heavy, but sleep doesn’t come easily. I fight to remember the dream, the boy, and my trip to the beach with Grandma. I think back and focus on the events that led up to the accident. The blackness that’s hidden those weeks of my life slowly start to fade as I fall back asleep. My last thoughts are of the woman and her son, standing in the foyer, as Grandma and I arrived home.

The sound of my alarm causes me to bolt upright. The woman, I know her. It’s Lucy. It has to be. Her hair is different and she’s aged slightly, but it’s her. I know it. The boy was her son. 

Grandma always said that my memories would return when I was ready for them. She was right. A small part of the missing two weeks made itself known last night and hopefully more memories will start coming back to me soon. I’m hoping that Lucy will be able to shed some light on that day, the boy, and what happened next. There has to be a reason that she didn’t mention it when she asked about my scar.

The entire school day is a waste. I can’t focus on anything other than what I want to ask Lucy. So many questions run through my head, but I’m not certain that she’ll be able to answer any of them. I’m not sure how much she knows or how much she remembers from that day. I guess I’ll find out when I get there.

As I pull up to the Foundation, my nerves kick into high gear. What if she won’t talk to me? What if there are no answers to my questions? If she was there for help, she may not be able to tell me anything. It’s a chance I have to take. Some information is better than none. Maybe what she is able to share with me, no matter how little it may be, will help me remember the rest on my own.

Wiping the sweat from my hands down the front of my jeans, I spot Lucy enjoying the afternoon sunshine on a bench in the garden. I change direction and head away from the front entrance of the Foundation and toward where she is. I’m about to enter the garden when I realize that she’s not alone. There’s a boy sitting next to her. His face is shielded by Lucy’s body, but his voice carries across the breeze.

Grant.

And he just called her mom.

The memories of that day come rushing back full force, overwhelming me with emotion. Rushing back to my car, I take off down the road as fast as I can. Reminding myself to breathe, I slow down and head to the gazebo in search of comfort. It’s the only place I can think of to go right now.

Once I’m safely inside, I lean back and close my eyes. Focusing on Grant’s face, it slowly morphs into the boy from my dream. There are few similarities. He’s grown into a handsome man, losing the chubby cheeks, growing five or six inches, and thinning out. The one thing that hasn’t changed are his eyes. They are still the same hazel beauties that I fell for all those years ago. How could I forget about him? How could I block such an amazing memory from my life?

It doesn’t make sense. I have no memory of my first kiss. No memory of us talking that day. No memory of meeting him or his mother. These are things that I shouldn’t have been able to forget. Things I should have wanted to remember. Why didn’t Grandma remind me about them? Why didn’t she help me to remember the missing weeks before she died?

Grant’s comment from the other day comes rushing back to me, an answer to all my questions. His father. They’re here because they’re hiding from his father. Grant isn’t who I thought he was. I even don’t remember his real name.

Chapter 11

Sitting in the gazebo doesn’t bring me the peace that I’m looking for. I consider talking to Grandma but she can’t provide me with the answers that I crave. I need to know why no one ever tried to help me remember.

My body and mind are exhausted, so I rest my head against the back of the bench, closing my eyes for a moment. I hear Grant’s voice calling for me just before I see his face. I’m twelve again.

“How did I get so lucky at only thirteen? I found the girl of my dreams, and I wasn’t even looking for you. Do you really have to leave?”

“People always tend to find each other when they least expect it. I never expected to meet you or to feel this way only days after losing my mother, but I did. I wish I didn’t have to leave. I would love to spend more time with you, but that’s not in our cards. Neither of us will be here tomorrow. I’ll be headed to the beach with my Grandma and then off to Germany. You’ll be headed to your new life with your mom, a better life where you’ll be happy and safe. I would never want to take that away from you. Even if it meant seeing you again.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll find you, Madison. It may take me another thirteen years, but I will find you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

A shiver runs up my spine and Grant’s face fades away as I open my eyes, remembering that moment as if it was never lost. The sun is setting over the river, and as much as I want to leave, my eyes are transfixed as the colors blend together and night falls.

I crank the heat in my car as I drive home in a daze. I have three texts from Libby and one from Grant when I finally check my phone. I answer Libby, letting her know that I’m going to bed and I’ll see her tomorrow. I contemplate ignoring Grant’s text but know that it’ll cause him to be suspicious if I don’t. He asked if he could call me. I avoid answering his question by telling him I’ll see him tomorrow in class.

What am I going to say to him tomorrow? Do I act as if I don’t remember him? Should I tell him? I wonder how he’ll react. Maybe he doesn’t remember me. What if he does? Has he known who I was all this time? Why didn’t he tell me? A million questions run through my mind as I crawl in bed. Exhausted from the events of the day, sleep envelopes me quickly.

***

Arriving twenty minutes before class starts, I take a seat in the back of the room and try to calm my frantic heart. I watch the door, willing Grant to walk in. Finally, only a few steps ahead of the professor, Grant’s smiling face appears and he takes the seat next to me that I saved for him. After pulling out his book, he passes me a note.

Lunch?

Sure.

Everything okay?

Yes.

I don’t believe you. You won’t look at me.

I’m paying attention.

Not buying it. Tell me later.

I nod, not passing the note back. If we continue communicating this way, I’ll start asking questions, and that’s not the way I want to get answers from him. I want to be able to look in his eyes and see that he’s telling me the truth.

As I’m packing up my bag, my phone alerts me to a voicemail. I dial in and listen to the message as I walk out of class to where Grant is waiting for me in the hallway.

Madison, this is Mr. Finch. If you could please stop by my office today and drop off the things I asked you for, the judge is ready to sign off on your paperwork. Please give me a call if you won’t be able to make it. Have a nice day.

I need to go. Now. I want this more than anything. I’ll be free. Free from my father’s overbearing personality and strict rules. This is my opportunity. I can’t let it pass me by.

As I hang up, I catch sight of Grant leaning against the wall, watching my every move. I haven’t told him everything that’s going on yet, and now I don’t have the time.

“I have an appointment before I head back to school. Can I call you later and we can talk?”

“I have practice until six and then there’s a banquet after.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“We have a game out of town. We won’t be back until late.”

After thinking it over for a minute, I tell him to meet me outside the thrift store on Saturday morning. He agrees and kisses me on the forehead before I leave him standing outside the classroom. I feel bad. I should stay and ask him about my dream. I want confirmation that my mind isn’t making things up and want to know how much he knows and if he can fill in some of the blanks that still remain. Now, I’ll have to wait until Saturday to find out.

I have to rush to school after stopping by Mr. Finch’s office. My hands are shaking as I grip the steering wheel. The drive to school drags on as I think about everything I’m about to take on.

There are things I need to buy. I’ll have bills in my name. I’ll be 100% responsible for myself, my actions, and my life. It all sounds fantastic and extremely scary at the same time.

I want this, I do. I tell myself that over and over again as I walk into the lunch room and see Libby’s hand waving frantically at me over the crowd. Megan and Angie are staring at me as I approach. Megan looks pissed off, but that seems normal for her these days.

Dropping into my seat, Libby pushes a piece of pizza in front of me that looks like its days old. I stare at it for a minute before I decide to pick it up and force myself to eat it. It tastes like shit. I expected as much, but as long as my mouth is full I don’t have to answer any of the questions that Libby is rapid firing at me right now.

“What’s wrong with you, Mads? I can tell something is weighing on your mind. Out with it!” Her demand catches Megan’s attention and I watch as she tunes Angie out and attempts to listen in on our conversation.

“I just left Mr. Finch’s office.”

“Everything is going to be great. Why do you look so stressed out?”

“There’s so much I need to do,” I say, lowering my voice to barely above a whisper. “I need furniture and groceries. I have to figure out how to get all my shit over there without my father noticing. It’s stressing me out, Libby. I know I’m doing the right thing, but it’s still not as easy as I thought it would be.”

“Everything is going to work out just fine. We have some furniture in the store room if you want to take a look at it. It looked like it was in good condition when they brought it in last week.”

“I was thinking about heading to Raleigh this weekend and going shopping for some stuff. Are you working?”

“All day on Saturday and Sunday or else I’d totally invite myself.”

I sigh, realizing that being on my own is going to be a lonely venture at times. I’ve never slept in a house alone before. My father always made sure to be home every night after my mother died. Now, when he’s not home, Eloise is there. I may not see her, but knowing that she’s in the house makes me feel safe.

“It’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll just order stuff on-line and have it delivered. I might be sleeping on the floor the first few nights, but I’ll get furniture eventually.”

Libby frowns at my statement, obviously displeased with the idea of me sleeping on the floor. It’s the least of my concerns right now. I need the judge to sign off on my emancipation so I can access my trust fund and buy the things I need. I don’t have enough in my account right now to go on a shopping spree, and I’m sure furniture isn’t cheap.

As we part ways after lunch, Libby wraps me in a hug, whispering in my ear that everything is going to work out. I want to believe her. I wish I had as much faith in me as she does. I know I’ll survive on my own, that’s not what I’m worried about. My biggest concern at the moment, aside from a bed and food, is my father. He’s going to shit himself once he realizes what I’ve managed to get accomplished behind his back.

I struggle through a pop quiz that afternoon. My head is not in the game. Between worrying about my father and wondering about Grant, I have no room to think about anything else. By the time I start my car to head back to Mr. Finch’s office, after getting a voicemail stating I forgot to sign something, my head is pounding, my eyes are sensitive to the light, and my stomach is turning. I have the beginning stages of a migraine coming on, and there’s nothing I can do to avoid it hitting me full force at this point.

The moment I step inside the house, I race to the bathroom and expel the gross pizza I forced myself to eat at lunch. It tasted just as bad coming up as it did going down. My body is exhausted so I crawl my way up the stairs and to my room. After I’m situated in bed, Eloise pops her head in my room with a bottle of water and some medicine. I didn’t have to ask for her help, she knew exactly what I needed. I’m going to miss her when I’m gone.

The next thing I know, my alarm is blaring, jerking me awake. I must have fallen asleep and slept straight through until morning. As I stretch my arms over my head, I feel refreshed. I obviously needed the rest.

Friday passes quickly. Mr. Finch calls to give me the good news during lunch. I’m legally an adult! To celebrate, Libby helps me to search on-line for furniture that will fit in the small space of the loft. I order the big stuff, including a new bed, and a few accessories like bar stools. Everything should be arriving by Monday. I paid an excessive amount of money to have my bed delivered tomorrow.

I’m growing more and more comfortable with my decision as the day wears on. After school, I head to the big box store in town and pick up bedding and a few decorative items. I take them directly to the loft and leave them there. I’m not officially moving in tomorrow, and I don’t want my father to have any indication of what’s happening until I’m completely out of his home—the home he attempted to steal out from under me.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. My excitement is bubbling over as I lie in bed and dream about furniture placement and where I’m going to hang pictures. When I finally wake up the next morning, I feel as if I’m on a high. I’m meeting Grant in two hours at the thrift store and my bed is being delivered shortly after that. Until then, I need to pack some personal items to take to the apartment and figure out a way to get them out of the house without my father noticing. His car was here when I got home last night, but thankfully there was no sight of him.

A soft knock on my door startles me. I look around, wondering how obvious it is that I’m packing, before I jump up, opening the door only a crack so my visitor doesn’t see inside. It’s Eloise. I want to squeeze her and thank her for everything, but I restrain myself.

“Good Morning, Miss Madison. Your father asked me to let you know that he will be spending his weekend at the base. If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

My face lights up in a smile. It’s my lucky day.

“Thank you, Eloise. I’ll be in and out today and tomorrow. Do you happen to know when he’ll be returning?”

“I believe he said he was on duty until Monday morning. I wouldn’t expect to see him until you return from school on Monday.”

I should tell her. She’s going to figure it out on her own at some point. I would rather her hear it from me than see it and wonder why.

“I won’t be here on Monday, Eloise. I’ll be moving out this weekend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell my father. I don’t expect you to lie to him, I would never want to put you in a compromising position like that. I’ll be informing him as soon as I’m settled in my new place.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I’m confused, and judging by the look on her face, Eloise knows it. “Your Grandmother told me that this would happen. She knew that you wouldn’t be able to live under your father’s law for much longer. She asked me to make sure that you were happy, and if this makes you happy, I will do anything I can to help you. As for informing your father, my alliance lies with your grandmother. She wouldn’t want me to hinder your wishes, and therefore, I won’t.”

I pull Eloise in, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tight. I wish I could take her with me, but there’s no room. I wonder if she’ll stay on after I’m gone. There won’t be anyone for her to take care of anymore. I can’t imagine she would want to stay and look after my father who’s barely ever here.

“Thank you, so much. I’ll be returning this afternoon with a friend to load my car and take these boxes,” I reply, gesturing to the stack that I never unpacked in the corner. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help, but I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll have lunch ready when you return,” Eloise states before turning around and disappearing down the hall. I swear I saw a tear fall down her cheek as she walked away.

***

I’m pacing in front of the thrift store. I already went in and said hi to Libby. Her enthusiasm from yesterday was still present as she jumped up and down, promising to come over and help unpack after her shift ends. I’ll need all the help I can get. I’m not sure how Grant is going to react to my surprise.

The dream is my biggest concern right now. I’ve been contemplating the right way to ask him about it; although I don’t really think there is a right way. I’m going to have to come out and tell him what I remember; there’s no tiptoeing around it. I feel like I should ask him today, get it over with so that it’s not weighing so heavily on my heart or my mind. If the opportunity presents itself, I might. If it doesn’t, I’m going to ignore the ache I feel every time I look at him, knowing that he may have been waiting for me all this time.