“It’s time to call your grandparents.”
Chapter 12
When I show up for school on Tuesday, Mr. Letts eyes me carefully.
“I hear you didn’t attend our work day,” he says.
How would he know that? Then I see Amanda, in the back corner, glowering at me with her arms crossed. Mystery solved. Amanda’s ratted on me for sure.
“I had to go out of town,” I say. “Can I write an essay or something in place of the work day?”
Mr. Letts swallows and turns back to his desk. He picks up my blue notebook, the new journal with my first entry.
“About your writing,” Mr. Letts continues, handing me the book. “I’m wondering if there isn’t more we should be talking about.”
Please don’t talk about what I wrote. Why did I write it, anyway? Why couldn’t I write about nice things like puppies and butterflies and a perfect life? Why must I write about things that make teachers and adults suspicious?
“Everything is fine, really, Mr. Letts. I was just in a really bad mood when I wrote it.” I smile brightly and take the book from him. “Everyone has a bad day now and then,” I add.
He nods and smiles, but he seems genuinely concerned. He pauses before turning back to his desk, and I sigh with relief when he decides to start class.
I glance back at Amanda and she shoots me another dirty look. I guess she really is done with our friendship after all.
Kurt and I have lunch together under a tree outside of the school. We are quiet, and focused on our sandwiches, but it’s a comfortable silence. Amanda, Danika, and Jenna pass us as they cross the schoolyard. They ignore me, even though there’s no way they haven’t seen me sitting there.
“Yikes,” Kurt mutters under his breath. He shakes his head.
“It’s fine,” I say, but what I really want to do is cry. Life seems to be getting lonelier by the second.
“A true friend would be there for you,” Kurt points out. In all fairness, though, I haven’t even mentioned what’s going on in my life to Amanda. “And you shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not they can handle it,” he adds. “Someone is either a good friend or they’re not.”
“My mom wants me to call my grandparents,” I say, changing the subject.
“Are you going to?”
“I guess so. I mean, what choice do I have? And if Mom thinks it’s time … it’s just … she hasn’t talked to them in almost two decades. And they’ve never even tried to contact her.” I chew at the skin on my lip. “What kinds of people go that long without trying to find their daughter? And grandchild? They knew she was going to have a baby. How could you refuse a baby? I mean, look at my dad. He didn’t look for us, either, and look what kind of a person he turned out to be.”
Kurt nods. He pulls the crust off his sandwich and pops it into his mouth.
“And what do we say? ‘Remember how you couldn’t handle having a grandchild then, well, here’s two grandchildren, now. And, by the way, all those years you lost with your daughter, you can’t make that up. Now she’s dying.’ ” My voice breaks on the last words and I turn into another puddle of tears. How many tears can one person cry?
Kurt rubs my shoulder and hands me his napkin. I take it and wipe my cheeks.
“Does this really have a chance of working?” I ask, even though I don’t really expect an answer.
“They’ve been lost to you already, so, technically, you have nothing to lose,” he offers.
I want to believe that is true, but I’m not sure that I can handle any more rejection. If Mom dies and my dad can’t care for us and my grandparents refuse to — what then? I suppose I will take care of both Ellie and myself. The thought is terrifying, but it might be all I have.
“You’re a really strong person, Jayce,” Kurt tells me. “If they can’t see what a special person you are, then they don’t deserve you, anyway.”
I smile weakly and thank him. After alienating my best friend and getting rejected by my dad, it feels great to have someone in my corner.
When Ellie and I get to the hospital that night, we get the shock of our lives. First of all, when we get to Mom’s room, her bed is empty. It has been stripped of all its bedding, and we’re greeted by a plastic mattress. I immediately panic and rush out of the room, demanding to know where she is. My heart is thumping so wildly, I feel like I might faint.
“Your mom has been transferred over to the Palliative Care Unit,” the nurse at the desk tells me. “She’s up on the fifth floor.” I breathe a sigh of relief, but still feel uneasy.
“What is palliative care?” I ask. I’m not sure I want the answer.
The nurse looks startled. She looks back and forth between me and Joelle. She’s not sure whether or not to continue.
“It’s … it’s for patients who require … patients who have life-threatening illnesses … patients are given comfort and care as they transition …” She stumbles on her words.
I nod, because she doesn’t need to say more, especially since Ellie is standing beside me, her huge blue eyes fixated on the nurse. I get it. She’s dying. They know it, and they’re trying to help her live her last days.
I want to scream and punch something, or take that stupid hospital cart that’s filled with medical supplies and shove it down the hallway. I imagine the contents being catapulted all over the hallway, the clanking of the metal bowls as they bounce off the floors. I picture myself taking the brakes off Mom’s stretcher and wheeling her out of there as fast as I can. I wheel her right out the doors, down the sidewalk, and all the way to the river. She’s smiling and excited, asking me to go faster, as Ellie and I hoot and holler and skip. We go toward the riverbank, where towering trees and lush green shrubs await. I find us a secret hollow down by the river’s edge, and Mom tears off her oxygen mask, miraculously able to breathe effortlessly again. She gets up and dances, full of energy. She grabs us girls by the hands and spins us around.
“Thank you for saving me,” she says, kissing us on our foreheads. We twirl around, the hot sun warming our faces and filling us with hope. We giggle and fall onto our backs on the soft, mossy ground and stare up at the billowy clouds.
I blink, and instead of seeing clouds I find myself staring at the hospital’s grey ceiling tiles and an unforgiving fluorescent light. Ellie is pulling on my arm and calling my name.
I come out of my daydream and we make our way to the elevator.
The second shock of our lives comes when we find Mom’s new room. We hear soft voices as we approach. I grip Ellie’s hand a little too tightly, and I realize how nervous and scared I am. We turn the corner and see a woman in her sixties sitting on the edge of the bed, obstructing my view of Mom. At first I think I must’ve led us into the wrong room. I turn on my heels to leave, but something stops me in my tracks. I glance back at the figure on the bed. Her head is bowed, and she is holding the patient’s hand. I hear soft sobs from the two of them. The room feels heavy with emotion. Even though I think I’m violating someone’s poignant moment, I can’t seem to budge.
A doctor enters the room and smiles warmly at us.
“Hello,” she says. She’s about Mom’s age and looks strangely like her.
“Hi,” Ellie and I say in unison, our voices quiet and curious.
At the sound of our voices, the figure on the bed swivels around and we hear Mom’s voice.
“Girls,” she says hoarsely.
The woman on the bed smiles at us, but she’s looking at us cautiously. Her eyes travel between the two of us as though she’s studying us.
“I’m Doctor Maniah,” the pretty doctor continues. She’s holding a clipboard in one hand, and she holds out her other hand for us to shake, which Ellie and I both do. “I’ll be looking after your mom,” she says. She steps closer to the bed and then writes down the numbers she sees on the medical equipment. We watc
h her adjust the oxygen tube on Mom’s face, and then she pats Joelle on the head before saying goodbye and leaving the room.
I look at the woman on Mom’s bed. She is short and fairly round. Her blond hair is tinged with grey, and it is cropped close to her head in soft curls. She wears glasses. When I look at her more closely, I see that she has big blue eyes.
The eyes. They look familiar, but I can’t think why. Mom sees the confusion on my face.
“Jayce and Ellie, this is your grandma,” Mom says simply.
My eyes feel as though they are going to pop out of my head. This is her mother? My grandma? How did she get here? And why is she sitting on my mom’s bed holding her hand? Why is Mom letting her into our lives? I know she said it was time to call them, but I just wasn’t expecting this so soon, and I’m not sure I like this woman being here.
“Hello,” the woman says gently. She smiles at us but I bristle at her. I hold Ellie close beside me.
“Come here,” Mom says, patting the bed. I stay firmly planted where I am, but Ellie runs toward Mom immediately and snuggles into her on the bed. This woman, who is apparently my grandma, looks at Ellie and wipes a tear from her eye.
“She’s beautiful,” she tells my mom, and my mom has to wipe away her own tears at her mother’s words.
Ellie gives the woman a big, toothy grin and starts chattering to her, even asking her for a high-five. I stand statue-like, trying to absorb the scene, but I have too many questions.
“Jayce, honey,” Mom says finally, trying to motion for me to come closer.
Ellie’s practically sitting in her grandma’s lap now, and I just feel disgusted.
“Come sit with me,” Mom encourages me again. She pats the space next to her on the bed.
I stand still, staring only at the woman on the bed. Her constant smile starts to falter when she sees how I’m looking at her.
“Why are you here?” I ask point blank. My voice is clipped and hard.
“Jayce,” Mom starts, but I cut her off.
“You don’t belong here,” I say quickly. “You should leave.”
Mom’s voice gathers steam. “Jayce, that’s enough.”
“What? Why is she here? We don’t need her.”
“Yes, we do,” Mom says.
“We’ve gotten through life just fine without you,” I continue. “We’ve never needed you all these years. Why do you think we need you now?” I know I’m being rude, and I see the hurt flash in this woman’s eyes, but I can’t help myself. Why are people allowed to turn their backs on us and then re-enter our lives so easily? And why am I not allowed to be mad about it? I don’t have to like this woman. I don’t even know her.
“Jayce! Enough.”
“She cast you away, Mom. And why? Because you were having me. She didn’t want us, Mom. At least, she sure didn’t want me.”
“I made a huge mistake,” the woman says. “One that I’ve regretted and had to pay for dearly, for many, many years.” Her voice quivers, and she struggles to keep her composure.
“Yeah, sure. That’s why you tried so hard to find us and make things right.” The sarcasm is undeniable, and anger surges through me uncontrollably.
“Calm down, J.J.,” Mom says soothingly.
“No. I won’t. And she doesn’t deserve you or your love.” I’m starting to shake. “What? She’s going to step in and make everything better? We don’t need her. We’ve been taking care of ourselves long enough. I’ve got this, Mom. Go home, lady.” I give her a stony glare.
I can see that Mom’s not happy with me, and the way this woman has planted herself on Mom’s bed shows that she has no intention of going anywhere. I shake my head in disgust and decide it’s me that’ll go then, and I walk right out of the room.
Just before they are out of earshot, I hear Mom say, “It’s okay. She’ll come around.”
No way. Not this time. I’m done letting people walk in and out of my life at their whim. It’s better just to keep them out altogether.
Chapter 13
I’m sitting in a visitor lounge on the fifth floor of the hospital. The room is filled with the dim, soft light of table lamps, which is a real departure from the fluorescent lights all over the rest of the hospital. Books line shelves. Soft music plays from a stereo on one side of the room, competing with the sounds from a TV on the other side of the room. The room is meant to be calming and soothing, but I’m seething with anger and confusion. I watch an elderly man sitting in a recliner fumble with the pages of the book he’s holding. His arms are shaking so badly it’s a wonder he can even hold up the book, let alone turn the pages. He coughs periodically, and the cough sounds wet and rattly, similar to my mom’s. I wonder if he’s dying of the same thing my mom is. I stare at him longer than is polite, but right now I could care less about how I come across.
I’m shocked when an hour later I see my mom’s frail figure shuffling slowly down the hallway toward the entrance to this room. She’s dragging along her oxygen tank and an IV pole, and she’s moving as though she’s ninety-five rather than thirty-four. If it wasn’t for her smooth, creamy skin and her long blond hair, she’d easily be pegged as an elderly woman in a care home.
Her face is lined with worry, and I watch her comb the halls for any sight of me. Immediately I feel guilty that I made her come and look for me.
“Jayce!” she calls out when she sees me. I stand and start to make my way toward her, when she makes it to the entrance of the lounge. She’s wheezing heavily now and looks as though she might pass out.
“Mom,” I admonish her. “You shouldn’t be walking around like this. You can’t even breathe. And you’ll wear yourself out.”
I take her by the arm to guide her back to her room, but she shakes me off and points to the couch in the lounge.
“Sit,” she says.
I sit dutifully and watch her try to settle herself into the seat beside me. She is so weak, it’s a marvel she’s made it all the way to me.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say quickly. While I’m not happy about the situation, I know that the last thing I want to do is cause my mom any more pain than what she’s already experiencing.
“No. Listen,” she replies. She has another long coughing fit that rivals even the man who is still fumbling with his book, but he seems oblivious to the two of us. “I called my mom. I had to. I know that I’m very sick. We DO need the help. I can’t keep leaving you to take care of Ellie and our home and everything else on your own. You are sixteen years old, Jayce. It’s not fair to you.”
“It’s not fair that she can just come back into your life as though nothing happened,” I reply.
“You’re right. It’s not fair. A lot of things aren’t fair right now. Your mom being sick. Having to take care of your little sister and still deal with school. Your dad living a life we didn’t expect …” Her voice catches.
“I can do it, Mom. I’ve been helping do this for so long.” It’s true. Mom’s been working double shifts for most of our lives. I’ve been stepping up to help ever since Joelle was born. I’m practically another mother to her, anyhow.
“It’s too much, J.J. And I won’t put you through any more than necessary.”
“How did she get here?” I wonder.
“She drove up as soon as I called her this morning.” And then she says, quieter, “Same phone number.”
We both grow silent, contemplating this fact.
“She started crying as soon as she heard my voice. Told me she’d waited for this day for years.”
“I don’t get it. All these years she could’ve tried phoning you or finding you. But she didn’t.”
“She said she thought I’d never forgive her for what they’d done.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t even try. And you shouldn’t forgive her. What they did was terrible.”
“Jayce, it’s import
ant to give her a chance to make it right. I could only give you so much. You have so little family as it is. You can never have too many people around you loving you.”
“She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t even know me.”
“Not yet. But she will. And she’ll fall in love with you just like everyone else.” Mom smiles. “You’re irresistible.”
“No, that’s Ellie,” I say. Ellie always steals the show with her pageant-worthy looks and her sweet demeanour.
“I need to know that there’ll be other people in your life,” Mom says.
“Why? We have you. It’s always been enough.” I think back to the past week and how lonely I’ve felt. How much I’ve needed my mom.
“No, it’s not enough, J.J. And I might not always be around,” Mom whispers.
“So, it’s true then? You’re being moved to this new room to die? Just like that? I thought you were going to fight this thing.” My voice grows higher and I find myself bristling with anger again.
“I’m trying, J.J.” Mom breaks down in tears. “But I’m just so tired …”
With that we cling to each other and I try to take in every part of her. The feeling of the small of her back as I wrap my arms around her, the floral smell of her deodorant through her plain hospital gown, her rapid heartbeat thumping steadily against my chest, the intensity of our emotions practically surging through our two bodies. She feels like a shell of her healthy self.
“Promise me you’ll try,” Mom whispers in my ear.
Holding her like a broken little bird in my arms, I know I’d do anything my mom asks. Anything at all. I don’t have a choice.
Chapter 14
After Mom and I return to the hospital room, I try to be polite and engage in small talk. Thankfully, Ellie does most of the talking, delighting us with her antics and filling the awkward silences for us. When Mom falls asleep, our grandma says she should call for a hotel room. Although I don’t want her to stay with us, I promised Mom I’d try to give this woman a chance and so it feels only right to offer our home to her instead of a hotel. Mom would want that.
If This Is Home Page 9
